Heir to Glengyle

Miriam MacGregor

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Contents

Cover

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

CATHIE CAMPBELL inhaled a breath of clear Scottish air as she stood on the balcony of the impressive Crieff Hydro hotel. Below her lay a section of its extensive gardens, and beyond them the town of Crieff, built on the River Earn in Perthshire, and gateway to the Highlands, clung to its steep hillside streets.

Gazing at the distant scene, she made an effort to etch it into her memory, because her period in Scotland would be limited; within a few days she would be on the other side of the world, at home in New Zealand.

It was her mother’s last letter that had sent Cathie to Crieff, pleading with her to make a duty call. ‘Before you come home, please do try to visit Aunt Amy,’ Mavis Campbell had written. ‘She is my mother’s sister, and therefore your great-aunt. She’ll be terribly hurt if she hears you’ve reached Edinburgh and haven’t made the effort to go the extra distance to Crieff, which is only about fifty miles away, more or less.

‘I know you’ve never met her,’ the letter had continued, ‘but Gran is sure to tell her you’re in Scotland, and it’s a matter of family contact. You know how Gran goes on about family.’

Indeed, Cathie knew how Gran went on about family. It was an obsession with her. ‘The family is a unit,’ she was in the habit of expounding. ‘Members should be able to rely upon each other in times of need. There should be family loyalty to give the unit strength. It’s a matter of united we stand, divided we fall.’

Cathie smiled whimsically. Unfortunately there were too few families that could qualify for Gran’s standard of perfection. And then she thought of the last lines in her mother’s letter. ‘If you are running short of funds, dear, just give us a phone call and your father will arrange for money to be sent. We’ve missed you and will be glad to see you home in New Zealand.’

The offer of financial assistance was in keeping with Gran’s philosophy, but in this case it was unnecessary. Cathie had saved for her holiday in the United Kingdom, and she had not spent lavishly despite the numerous items she had longed to purchase. Nor would she have stayed for even one night at the costly Crieff Hydro had it not been for its close proximity to the street in which Great-Aunt Amy MacGregor lived, and the fact that she could walk there.

It was early afternoon when she set off to visit her elderly relative, and as she walked down the hill she tried to recall what she’d been told about her grandmother’s sister. But only vague snippets of conversation filtered back into her mind, reminding her that Amy was the widow of Peter MacGregor, who had been a businessman with fingers in numerous pies.

Amy had nursed his first wife until that woman’s death, and now she lived very comfortably on the income provided by what was known as the Glengyle Estate. What would happen to the estate after Amy’s death Cathie was unable to remember, but in the meantime she understood it provided sufficient money for Amy to employ a companion-help to assist in overcoming her soul-destroying condition of arthritis.

It did not take long for Cathie to reach her destination, and for a short time she stood on the opposite side of the street while examining the white two-storeyed house. Solidly constructed, and with chimneys rising from the two end gabled walls, its oblong design was relieved by dormer windows and a garage built on to one end. Hanging baskets filled with pink petunias and trailing blue lobelia removed any austerity from the front façde, while the small garden offered a colourful display of impatiens, or Busy Lizzies, as her grandmother called them.

She crossed the road and went towards the front door which had a single word above it. ‘Glengyle.’ And even as she raised her hand to press the bell she was gripped by the oddest premonition that she would find more than her great-aunt in this house. But of course you will, stupid—she has a companion, she reminded herself.

However, she was not prepared for the sight of the man who opened the door, and for several moments she stood staring at him while becoming aware that he was one of the most handsome men she had even seen. Tall and broad-shouldered, he had dark auburn hair which betrayed a touch of bronze where the afternoon sun fell across his brow. His brown eyes regarded her with interest while he waited for her to speak.

At last she found her tongue. ‘Does Mrs Amy MacGregor live here?’

‘Yes. May I tell her who is calling?’ His deep voice with its resonant ring was without trace of a Scottish accent.

‘Would you please tell her it’s Cathie Campbell from New Zealand?’

‘Campbell?’ The man frowned as a complete change of expression swept over his features. His jaw tightened and a cold light crept into his eyes. ‘Campbell?’ he repeated, as though the name belonged to an enemy.

‘I—I think she’ll know who I am,’ Cathie faltered, feeling slightly nonplussed by the intangible aura of antagonism that seemed to emerge from him.

His eyes took in details of her slim form, then moved from the curled ends of her wavy shoulder-length red hair to the tendrils framing her face. His gaze held her steady hazel eyes for several moments before he muttered in a cool tone, ‘Excuse me—I’ll see if she’s receiving visitors today.’

‘She’ll receive me—’ Cathie began, then found herself left standing at the door. ‘Especially after coming all this way,’ she mumbled audibly to herself, feeling vaguely irritated by this man’s offhand manner. Who was he? she wondered.

While waiting, she peeped into the hall, noticing that the floor was well carpeted, and that the walls were panelled. A large oil painting of the Scottish Highlands hung on one side of the hall, and an antlered stag’s head gazed sightlessly from the opposite wall. The solid hallstand and chair appeared to be of an earlier period, causing her to wonder if they were valuable antiques.

And then a woman came into the hall, her appearance giving Cathie a shock because of the strong likeness to her grandmother—except that on closer observation this person appeared to be slightly older and more frail. Also, her movements were slower, and she walked with the aid of a walking stick—but when she spoke her voice could have belonged to Gran.

‘Cathie—is it really you—one of my own people from so far away? Why Baird left you standing on the step I’ll never know.’

Fascinated, Cathie looked at the short wavy grey hair and at the bright blue eyes. Then she entered the hall and kissed her great-aunt.

She was then led to a living room where the sun filtered through windows to fall upon the two occupants of the room. One was a comfortably built middle-aged woman who Amy introduced as her companion, Elspeth Johnstone. The other was the Greek god who had opened the door to her, and who now sat at a table with several books spread before him. He stood up as they entered.

When introducing him Amy said, ‘This is my late husband’s grandson, Baird MacGregor. You should find plenty to talk about because he also comes from New Zealand.’ Then to Baird she explained, ‘Cathie is my sister’s grandchild.’

The man’s handsome face remained unsmiling. ‘You’ve been over here for so long, Amy—I’ve never thought of you as being a person with relatives of your own in New Zealand.’

Amy sighed. ‘I’ve only my sister and her daughter—and Cathie, whom I’m meeting for the first time, although of course I’ve heard about her in letters. My sister and I write to each other every fortnight. We keep in touch because we’ve so little in the way of real family.’

Cathie suppressed a smile. Family. Dear heaven—she had only to close her eyes and this was Gran speaking from across the miles.

Baird’s voice held a cool note as he spoke to Amy. ‘I’d have thought my parents and I could have been looked upon as family. My father was Grandfather’s only child, if you care to remember.’

A thought flitted through Cathie’s mind. His father—of course that was where the Glengyle Estate would go.

‘Yes, naturally I look upon you as family,’ Amy hastened to assure him. ‘But there isn’t the blood tie of a sister, and I never hear from any of you. There’s little or no contact. Besides, I’ve often wondered if there isn’t—’ The words faded as she fell silent.

‘If there isn’t—what, Amy?’ Baird regarded her intently.

Amy hesitated, then drew a deep breath as she said, ‘Well—if you want me to be frank, dear, “resentment” was the word I was about to use.’

He frowned. ‘Resentment? What are you talking about?’

Amy drew another deep breath, almost as if the discussion was beginning to cause her distress, her voice shaking slightly as she said, ‘You know exactly what I mean. If your grandfather hadn’t married me, the estate would have been wound up and paid out years ago—instead of which I have sat in the way.’ Then she sighed as she added, ‘That’s why I think your parents haven’t written to me.’

‘Then please understand that I’m here to rectify the omission,’ he told her gravely.

‘Thank you, dear. I was so pleased when you phoned from Bradford.’

Elspeth now spoke to Baird, her soft voice holding a strong Scottish accent. ‘If you’ll pardon my saying so, you appear to have been making much closer contact with the past than with the present.’

Baird sent her a level glance. ‘Are you hinting that I’ve been unsociable? You must appreciate that this has been my first real opportunity to examine my grandfather’s books.’ He then turned bleak eyes upon Cathie. ‘I’ve been absorbing details about the Campbell clan.’

Amy said hastily, ‘Baird is in the UK to examine machinery—’

But without allowing her to give further explanation Baird cut in, his voice holding a faintly sardonic ring, ‘So—your sister’s daughter married a Campbell?’

‘That’s right—and a fine fellow he is, or so I’m told.’

‘Really?’ Baird’s voice rang with something that sounded like incredulity.

Nor was the tone of it lost on Cathie, and, vaguely puzzled, she turned to regard Baird with eyes that were full of questions. Suppressed anger was niggling at this man, she realised, while the suspicion that it concerned herself left her feeling even more puzzled. She shot glances at her great-aunt and at Elspeth, and the fact that neither seemed anxious to meet her eyes only added to her bewilderment.

Perhaps it was the tense atmosphere that brought Elspeth to her feet. ‘I’ll make a pot of tea,’ she said hastily. ‘Amy always has tea in the afternoon. Could we have a wee bit of space on the table, Baird?’

Amy was quick to agree with her, and she now spoke firmly. ‘Yes, dear—it’s time you put those books away. You’ve been delving into them from the moment you arrived, and I don’t believe they’re doing you the slightest atom of good. In fact I’ve a strong suspicion they’re putting you into a very depressed state of mind.’

‘They’re making him live in the bad old days when the clans were at each other’s throats like wild dogs,’ Elspeth threw over her shoulder from the doorway.

Baird began to stack the books into a pile. ‘I’ll admit Scottish history is depressing,’ he said ruefully. ‘But I want to know about it. After all, it’s part of my heritage.’

‘Yes—yes, of course,’ Amy agreed.

He went on, ‘I’m thankful my grandfather’s books are here so that I can learn about the different clans. I trust you’ll take care of them, Amy.’

She became indignant. ‘Of course I’ll take care of them,’ she retorted sharply. ‘What are you afraid I’ll do? Sell them—?’

‘No, I don’t think you’d do that. It’s just that books go astray very easily, especially if they’re lent,’ he reminded her blandly.

‘Then be assured that I have no intentions of lending a single item that belongs to the Glengyle Estate.’ Her tone was still sharp.

Baird ignored her obviously ruffled feelings as he continued, ‘The clans appear to have been like large families who stuck together.’

‘The clans had to stick together, considering they spent most of their time fighting with their neighbouring clans, or with clans against whom they held a grudge,’ Amy pointed out drily. ‘In most cases they were as bad as each other, their sins lying six on one side and half a dozen on the other. But those events took place so long ago that, personally, I consider them better forgotten.’

‘I doubt I’ll forget some of the incidents recorded in these books,’ Baird gritted as he carried an armful towards the door. ‘Some of those villains stand out like black beacons,’ he added while flicking a glance towards Cathie.

She felt shaken. ‘I don’t think he likes me,’ she whispered to Amy when Baird had disappeared.

‘Nonsense, my dear. You’ve only just met. I’m sure he doesn’t mean to be abrupt with you.’

Cathie shook her head. ‘I can feel his antagonism.’

Amy kept her voice low. ‘I’m sure you’re mistaken. It’s just, as I said, he’s been positively steeping himself in the MacGregor clan history and parts of it have made him really angry. Just before you arrived, Elspeth and I feared he was working himself into a fine old rage while reading about the way in which the MacGregors had lost so many of their lands to the Campbells. There were the Glenorchy and the Glenlyon lands—’ She paused, her voice falling away as realisation dawned while staring at Cathie.

‘Yes, go on,’ Cathie prompted. ‘I’m beginning to understand.’

Amy swallowed but went on bravely, ‘Worst of all, there was the Glencoe massacre, which concerned the MacDonald clan.’

‘The—the massacre?’ Cathie licked dry lips, feeling suddenly apprehensive about what she was going to hear. Even in far-away New Zealand schoolchildren were told of the Glencoe massacre.

‘You see—Baird’s grandmother was a MacDonald,’ Amy said as though that explained everything. ‘And even his mother belonged to the clan—which means that Baird has a fair splash of MacDonald blood in his veins.’

Baird’s voice spoke from behind them. ‘Allow me to tell her about the affair, Amy. It would give me great pleasure to acquaint Miss Campbell with the facts of Glencoe.’

Cathie quailed beneath the harshness of his tone and the cold glitter in his eyes, but she said nothing.

Baird settled himself in a chair, and at that moment Elspeth came in with a trayload of afternoon tea. She placed it on the table and began to fill the cups.

Amy attempted to use it as an excuse to deter Baird. ‘Ah, tea,’ she said happily. ‘Shall we keep the story until later, Baird? You can’t talk with your mouth full of Elspeth’s delicious shortbread and oatcakes.’

But Baird was not to be diverted. ‘There’s no time like the present,’ he informed Amy smugly.

‘In any case, Cathie probably knows the story,’ Amy said in a resigned manner.

Baird’s mouth twisted into a mirthless grin. ‘I doubt that the family dine out on it,’ he said.

‘So why don’t you get it off your chest?’ Cathie put the query in a scathing tone, instinct warning that it was a story she had no wish to hear.

‘Right—I’ll do just that,’ he declared with barely concealed relish. ‘It happened in the February of 1692—’

‘Good grief—and you’re still simmering over it?’ Cathie cut in.

He ignored the interruption. ‘At that time, William of Orange sat on the English throne. He decreed that by a certain date an oath of allegiance must be sworn by all the Highland chiefs.’

‘Aye—those chiefs were a troublesome lot,’ Elspeth put in. ‘Especially the ones who wanted their own King James on the throne. Another piece of shortbread, Baird?’ she offered, passing the plate. ‘It acts well as a sweetener to the thoughts.’

Baird sent her a bleak glance. ‘Does it indeed? I’m afraid it would take more than an entire batch of shortbread to sweeten my thoughts at the moment, Elspeth.’ He drew a hissing breath then continued, ‘Old Ian MacDonald set off from Glencoe, which is a valley surrounded by mountainous hills in northern Argyll, but snowstorms and blizzards—plus the treachery of deliberately sending him to the wrong place—made him arrive three days after the appointed first of January.’

‘Poor old man,’ Amy said in a voice that was full of sympathy.

Baird went on, ‘Nearly a month later about a hundred and twenty-eight soldiers arrived at Glencoe. They billeted themselves on the MacDonalds, living on friendly terms with them for about twelve days and, needless to say, eating them out of house and home. Then, in the early hours of February the fourteenth, in the midst of a snowstorm, they arose and dragged the MacDonalds from their beds, murdering all who were unable to escape. Many who did escape died of starvation and exposure out in the snowstorm, but a few got away to tell the tale.’

The story made Cathie feel sick. She began to tremble, her hand shaking so badly that it was necessary to put her cup of tea down before the contents slopped into the saucer. She also knew that Baird watched her with a glint in his eyes, making her suspect that worse was to come. Nor was she mistaken.

‘The instigator of that ghastly massacre, and leader of the military group, was Captain John Campbell of Glenlyon,’ he said in a voice that gritted with bitterness.

Cathie almost shrank visibly. She fought to control the emotions that were threatening to bring tears, and were also preventing her from thinking clearly. Why was he doing this to her? He didn’t appear to be a man who would deliberately hurt a complete stranger, therefore he must have a reason.

The thought forced her to ask a question. ‘You were submerged in all this horror and blood on the snow just as I rang the doorbell?’

He drew another hissing breath. ‘I was up to my neck in it. It had got right into me until I was positively seething with a mad rage,’ he admitted bluntly, and in a voice that still rasped with inner fury.

‘And when you opened the door there was a hated Campbell standing on the mat. Right?’

‘Right,’ he snarled, still frowning.

Cathie’s confidence returned to her, then her lip curled as she said with derision, ‘Mr MacGregor—your body might portray a fine physique, but your mind is pathetic when it allows events of so long ago to send you up the wall.’

‘You don’t understand,’ he gritted. ‘I have blood ties with the MacDonald clan.’

‘So, on their behalf, you’re hitting out at me. I’m sure they’ll be most grateful,’ she added scornfully, then turned quickly to Amy. ‘Please forgive me, Great-Aunt Amy, but this had to be said, because from the moment of my arrival this man’s manner towards me has bordered on rudeness—and all because I happened to have been born a Campbell. Really—it’s quite ridiculous to be wallowing in what happened three hundred years ago.’

Amy looked at her in silence for several moments, and then all she said was, ‘Please don’t call me Great-Aunt. It makes me feel a hundred. Just call me Amy.’

A smile of relief lit Cathie’s face. She had expected her outburst to have annoyed Amy to the extent of being shown the door, but that didn’t seem to be the case. However, she said, ‘Thank you—I’d like to call you Amy, but I doubt there’ll be much opportunity before I leave for Edinburgh to catch a flight to Heathrow, and from there to New Zealand.’

Amy’s face reflected her disappointment. ‘My dear—I thought you’d spend at least a few days with me!’ she exclaimed in dismay. ‘Where’s your suitcase?’

‘It’s at the Crieff Hydro where I stayed last night. I’ll sleep there again tonight and leave in the morning.’

Elspeth spoke quietly. ‘Goodness—isn’t that a very expensive hotel?’

‘Yes—but in this case the expense was warranted because it was so near to here.’

Amy began to plead with her. ‘Cathie, dear, please stay with us for a few days. I’ll be so unhappy if you refuse to.’

Baird spoke to Amy, his voice holding undisguised satisfaction. ‘You’re forgetting that Miss Campbell’s flight will be already booked.’ He stared into his cup as though awaiting the result of this remark.

He doesn’t want me to stay here, Cathie thought, a surge of defiance rising within her.

Elspeth leaned forward, her grey eyes regarding Cathie intently. ‘Is it booked—or is it an open ticket?’ she queried.

Cathie hesitated, then admitted, ‘Actually, it’s a Singapore Airlines ticket, but the date is still open.’

‘There now, that settles it,’ Amy beamed. ‘You can’t possibly travel this distance just for a cup of tea. Besides, there’s so much I want to know about your grandmother—all the things she considers too trivial to put in letters. So will you please stay so that we can get to know each other?’

Cathie found it impossible to ignore the plea in the older woman’s voice, and she also knew that Amy was right in asserting that the distance and expense warranted staying for a longer period. Further, there was the fact that her refusal to stay with Amy for a few days would cause her mother and grandmother deep disappointment, so she said, ‘Yes—thank you, Amy, I’d love to have a short period with you—so long as Mr MacGregor can tolerate being under the same roof as a Campbell.’

The glance she flicked across the room showed that his face had become quite inscrutable. And if, as she suspected, he was bubbling with anger inside, it was completely hidden.

Amy appeared to be oblivious to the tension between them as, smiling happily, she said, ‘Now, about your suitcase; Baird will take you in the car to collect it—and he’ll fix everything else.’

Cathie was quick to protest. ‘That’s quite unnecessary,’ she assured Amy hastily. ‘I can manage it myself—’

Baird crossed the room and glared down into her face, his jaw tightening as he rasped, ‘Nevertheless I shall take you to collect it, and I trust you’ll come without further tantrums.’

‘Tantrums?’ Cathie returned his glare, the gold flecks in her hazel eyes flashing sparks as she flung at him, ‘It’s just that I wouldn’t like you to break an arm while lifting a case for a Campbell, Mr MacGregor.’

Amy showed signs of agitation. ‘My goodness, is this how young New Zealanders go on these days? One would almost imagine you didn’t like each other.’

Words that would excuse their behaviour and lighten the situation evaded Cathie, who found herself saying, ‘I’m afraid that some of the men from Down Under get beyond themselves, especially if they imagine they have a girl at a disadvantage.’

Baird gave a short laugh. ‘As for the women, some of them have tongues as sharp as butchers’ knives—especially the redheads,’ he added cynically.

The silence following his words was broken by a sigh that came from Amy. ‘It would please me greatly if you’d both try to be friends,’ she said in a pathetic voice that held a slight tremor.

Baird’s tone became ironic. ‘I’m afraid we can’t have everything we desire in this life, Amy.’

‘Yet you appear to be doing very well for a young man of thirty-three,’ she said drily. She then turned to Cathie. ‘That makes him nine years your senior, because I think Ellen said you are now twenty-four. Isn’t that right?’

Cathie nodded without speaking.

Baird looked pointedly at Cathie as he said, ‘Twenty-four, eh? Surely that’s an age when we should begin to grow up.’

‘Yes, it is,’ she agreed sweetly. ‘However, I’ve noticed some who continue to be a pain in the neck until into their thirties.’

Amy sighed. ‘Really, you two—I can’t understand—’

Baird grinned at her. ‘I’ll get the car out. Perhaps Miss Campbell will be good enough to come to the garage entrance.’

Cathie felt guilty, and the moment Baird left the room she turned to apologise to Amy. ‘I’m sorry, Amy. I’ll try to keep myself under control. I told you he doesn’t like me, and you can also blame this awful red hair for my unruly tongue.’

Amy’s mouth tightened. ‘That auburn hair of his also has a good splash of red in it, but it’s no excuse. I’m sorry he’s like this, dear. I’ve never known him to be in such a cross mood.’

Elspeth said darkly, her broad Scottish accent seeming to be more pronounced, ‘I blame all that tramping through the heather he’s been doing. It has a weird effect on many people filled with Scottish blood. It stirs their roots and they begin to hear the skirl of the pipes out on the hillsides. They see men wearing the kilt, their plaids flung over their shoulders, come marching out of the mist.’

Amy snorted. ‘That’s only after they’ve been on the bottle for too long. But I’ll agree with you on one point—Baird’s roots have definitely been stirred up, and for that I blame his grandfather’s books.’

Cathie said, ‘I’d better not commit the sin of keeping him waiting. He’s mad enough with me as it is—’

She hastened outside to where Baird had backed the car from the garage. He opened the door for her and after muttering a brief thank-you she sat in silence until he had driven up the hill to the Crieff Hydro hotel.

‘I’ll not be long,’ she informed him coldly as the car stopped near the front entrance. ‘I’ll just collect my case and pay my account.’ She then left the car and hurried into the hotel.

A short time later when she reached the office situated in the wide and lengthy hall the woman behind the counter smiled affably. ‘It’s all settled, Miss Campbell,’ she said. ‘That gentleman over there has paid your account. I hope you’ve enjoyed your stay—’

But Cathie scarcely heard her. Her cheeks pink with anger, she crossed the hall to glare at Baird who was examining one of the many paintings on the wall.

‘Did you pay my account?’ she demanded furiously.

‘Yes. What of it?’ He turned to look at her.

‘How dare you put me under an obligation?’

‘It was Amy’s request. Didn’t you hear her ask me to fix everything else?’ His tone had become bored.

Cathie’s jaw sagged slightly. ‘I didn’t realise she meant—’

‘You weren’t listening,’ he cut in acidly. ‘You were too busy thinking up bitchy remarks to fling at me.’

‘My oath—hark at who’s talking,’ she snapped indignantly.

‘Get in the car. I want to talk to you.’ He picked up her case and carried it through the wide entrance doors.

‘You mean you want to recount more Campbell atrocities?’ she panted, having to run to keep up with his long strides as he made his way towards the car.

‘Nothing of the sort,’ he retorted abruptly.

Slightly puzzled, she sat in silence while they made their way down the hill, then left the town to drive a short distance to where a factory made colourful paperweights. Baird parked the car, then led her into the showroom where she was allowed only a short viewing of the brilliantly coloured balls and shapes before being led back to the vehicle.

‘Amy will be pleased I’ve shown you this display,’ he remarked nonchalantly. ‘And it will account for the extra time we’ll be taking over the discussion I intend to have with you.’

Even more bewildered, she sat in the car staring straight ahead, waiting for him to begin.

He turned in his seat to face her, his brown eyes watching her intently for several moments before he said, ‘With regard to the hotel account—can you be gracious enough to accept it without fuss?’

‘But there’s no need—’

‘What has need to do with it? It is something Amy wanted to do because she wants you to be her guest. Is that too much for you to understand?’

‘I suppose not,’ she conceded reluctantly.

‘Nor is there any need for you to concern yourself about the expense. Financially, Amy is very comfortable. My grandfather saw to that fact by leaving her the interest from the Glengyle Estate. But you probably know that in any case.’

She felt he was watching her closely, so she ignored his last comment by saying, ‘I saw the name “Glengyle” over the door.’

‘He had numerous business interests, and when he died all his assets went into what became known as the Glengyle Estate. He liked the name because the famous—or infamous—Rob Roy MacGregor was born at Glengyle. You’ve heard of Rob Roy, I presume?’

‘Who hasn’t? But I’m amazed to hear you admit to the infamous aspect of him.’

‘We won’t go into that,’ he declared coldly.

‘I’ll bet we won’t,’ she snapped back at him. ‘Is this what you’ve brought me here to talk about?’

‘It is not. I want to talk about Amy. I want your help.’

Surprise caused her eyes to widen as she turned to stare at him. ‘Let’s get this straight. You’re asking a Campbell for help, Mr MacGregor?’

‘Yes, I am.’

‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this.’

His mouth twisted. ‘If you’d rather not hear it we can go home at once.’

‘I didn’t say that. So—how can I help you?’ She was now thoroughly curious.

‘I’d like you to pull your weight in persuading Amy to come to New Zealand for our summer. It would enable her to avoid the Scottish winter, which can be very cold.’

‘Far too cold for one who suffers from arthritis,’ she said with a feeling of sympathy for her great-aunt.

‘I’m glad you can see at least that much daylight,’ he observed, his tone ironic.

‘Thank you—you say the nicest things,’ she retorted sharply. ‘I had no idea I appeared to be somewhat dumb. It must be because I’m a Campbell,’ she added in a chilly tone.

‘No doubt it is,’ he agreed gravely. ‘And there’s something else—we must stop this continual bickering, because it’s starting to upset Amy. Heaven alone knows how it began.’

A bitter laugh escaped her. ‘You dare to ask that?’ she demanded incredulously. ‘How very typical—’

‘I mean I don’t know what the hell got into me. I know I’ve been most unreasonable—and I regret it.’

Cathie recalled Elspeth’s and Amy’s words, but without admitting where her ideas had come from she said, ‘I can guess what got into you. You were beset by ghosts of the past. They rose up out of the pages of your grandfather’s books. They leered at you—stabbing at you with dirks and daggers, and maddening you because you’re unable to do anything about it. They stirred up bitter hatred.’

For the first time he looked at her with real interest as he said, ‘You surprise me. You have more understanding than I’d have thought possible, especially in a woman.’

‘Again, thank you. You’re too kind.’

‘Then it’s agreed? We can be friends?’ he asked lightly.

She thought about it for several moments, but at last she shook her head as she said, ‘I doubt it, Mr MacGregor—I doubt it very much indeed.’

‘You sound quite adamant about it. Why is it so impossible?’

‘Because I know that you would never trust a Campbell. However, we can at least allow Amy to imagine we’re friends,’ she said guardedly.

Baird’s expression hardened. ‘But in the meantime you’ll reject my offer of friendship. Thank you very much.’

She turned to regard him frankly. ‘I can’t believe that friendship is what you really have in mind. To me it sounds more like a truce.’

‘A truce can be a temporary affair. I said friendship, and I meant friendship,’ he said in a tone that had become abrupt.

‘It takes two to be friends,’ she pointed out. ‘Nor am I in the habit of tossing real friendship about quite so lightly.’

‘But at least you’ll show a semblance of friendship for Amy’s sake,’ he persisted.

‘Yes—for Amy’s sake.’

‘Thank you.’

‘There’s no need to thank me. Amy is part of my family.’

‘Then will you accept this as a peace offering?’ he asked, extracting from his pocket a square object wrapped in tissue paper.

She took it from him, then removed the wrapping to reveal an attractive paperweight filled with brilliant colours that glittered and glowed. She had caught her breath over it in the showroom, but it had been too expensive for her to buy.

He said, ‘I noticed you admire it, so I bought it for you.’

‘Thank you, that was very kind—but of course I can’t accept it,’ she said regretfully.

‘Why not, for heaven’s sake?’ he rasped.

‘Because I feel it’s a bribe to persuade me to do whatever you wish me to do. You can take it home, and I’m sure your wife, or your girlfriend, or whoever, will appreciate it.’ She then spread the paper carefully, rewrapped the paperweight and handed it back to him.

CHAPTER TWO

BAIRD took the square parcel from her and tossed it on to the back seat, where it landed with a slight thud. He then gritted from behind tight lips, ‘For your information, I am neither married nor engaged.’

‘But you must surely have a girlfriend,’ she pursued, suddenly feeling unaccountably interested in this question.

‘Well, it’s possible. What about yourself?’ he asked, sending a swift glance towards her ringless fingers. ‘Are you a free agent?’

‘Definitely—and I intend to remain that way,’ she declared in a firm voice. ‘At least until—’ She fell silent, annoyed with herself.

He sent her a quick glance. ‘Until what?’

‘Until I’ve achieved my goal—which is no concern of yours.’

‘Shady business, is it?’ He grinned. ‘Something which must be kept secret, or under wraps, as they say.’

‘Of course not,’ she snapped, irritated by his suggestions. Then she gave a sigh of resignation as she admitted, ‘If you must know—I’m interested in antiques. Some day I hope to own my own shop.’

‘That’s your goal? Have you come to the UK on a buying spree?’

‘Heavens, no—I’m a long way from that happy state,’ she said, laughing at the mere thought of it.

Unexpectedly he said, ‘You should laugh more often. It lights up your face.’

She was startled by the remark, wondering if it was supposed to be a compliment. Or had he scratched about in his mind, searching for something nice to say—and all he’d been able to come up with was a hint that her previous expression had been anything but attractive? Not that she cared one iota for his opinion of her appearance, of course, and to prove this point she dragged her mind back to the subject of her great-aunt.

‘I presume the suggestion of a visit to New Zealand has been put to Amy?’ she queried.

‘Yes. But her response has been a complete lack of enthusiasm. That’s why I’m asking if you’ll use your powers of persuasion.’

‘What makes you imagine I have any?’

‘The fact that she was so delighted to see you.’

‘She’s probably like Gran, strong on family ties—which makes me wonder why she’d need to be persuaded to come to New Zealand.’

‘I think the main problem lies in the assistance she needs because of her arthritis. You probably don’t realise that she needs help in having her shower and in getting dressed. Here she has Elspeth to turn to during difficult moments, but in New Zealand she fears she would be a burden to somebody.’

‘Poor Amy,’ Cathie said softly, her voice full of sympathy.

He went on, ‘She also feels nervous about the length of the flight. Thirteen hours from Heathrow to Changi Airport at Singapore, where we’d have a night’s stopover, and then another ten hours or more to Auckland.’

‘It’s a long way to the other side of the world,’ Cathie sighed.

‘I’ve tried to convince her that the Singapore Airlines air hostesses will give her all the assistance she needs. They really are the most charming girls.’

‘Not only charming, but beautiful as well,’ Cathie agreed. ‘But that’s only on the main flight. What happens when she reaches New Zealand?’

‘We’ll catch the first available domestic flight to Palmerston North—’

Cathie cut in, ‘And that’s where my parents and Gran will meet her and take her to Levin where we live. Gran has a flat built on to our house.’

His jaw became set in a determined line. ‘On the contrary, she will stay with me until she gets over her jet-lag, and until my parents have come from Taupo to meet her. Don’t forget that my father is her stepson, and I’m unable to see the necessity to send him an extra thirty miles to Levin.’ He paused, then added, ‘Also, I’d like her to see my factory.’

Cathie’s brows rose as she sent him an inquiring glance. ‘Factory?’

‘It’s just one that Dad and I started years ago. When he retired he took Mother to live at Taupo where they spend most of their time fishing on the lake.’

She waited for more explanation about the factory, but it did not appear to be forthcoming. Then, as she had no intention of prying, she changed the subject by asking carefully, ‘There would be someone in your—living quarters—to care for Amy?’

‘I live alone in the house I took over when my parents went to Taupo—but there’s Lola next door. She works part-time, which enables her to keep an eye on my place.’

‘You mean, as a housekeeper?’

‘I suppose you could call it that,’ he replied nonchalantly. ‘At least, the place always looks clean and tidy, and I’m never short of a clean shirt.’

‘But if she has a part-time job her hours might not fit in—especially in the mornings,’ Cathie pointed out, visualising a comfortably built woman, possibly about her mother’s age.

‘I’ll talk to her,’ he said, as though that was all it would take to make Lola change her work schedule.

Cathie took an unobtrusive peep at the classical lines of his profile, which featured a strong jaw, a straight nose and a well-shaped forehead. This man knows what he wants and is determined to get it, she decided. He knows where he’s going and is sure to get there. Yet there’s a tender side to his nature. He’s concerned for Amy. He’s even concerned about the problems his long-dead ancestors had to face. Not that he can do anything about those people or events, but the knowledge frustrates him. Nevertheless it all adds up to the fact that he’s one who cares for other people.

His voice cut into her thoughts. ‘So you’ll do it?’

She was momentarily nonplussed. ‘Do it—? Do what—?’

His frown indicated impatience. ‘You’ll do your best to persuade Amy that the trip would not be the traumatic experience she imagines. Isn’t that what this conversation is about?’

‘Yes—I suppose so. When would you expect to leave?’

‘As soon as Elspeth can pack a couple of suitcases for her—and before she changes her mind about the entire project.’

‘It’s a pity Elspeth couldn’t go with her—’ Cathie began.

He cut in, ‘As I’ve already explained, it’s quite unnecessary. But apart from that fact Elspeth would not leave her husband. He works in Crieff, cares for the garden at Glengyle, and they’ll look after the place while Amy is away.’

‘So my added persuasion appears to be all you need.’

‘That’s right. Nothing more, nothing less.’

A sudden thought caused her to ask, ‘I presume you will have checked that Amy has a passport?’

‘Of course. Naturally it was the first question I asked. Fortunately she took a trip to Canada with Elspeth and it is still valid.’

‘So that apart from her own decision there shouldn’t be any obstacles in the way.’

His attitude was positive and sufficiently determined to forbid further argument on the subject, therefore she said, ‘Very well—I’ll do my best to convince Amy there’ll be little or no hassle on the flight.’

‘Thank you.’ He sounded relieved.

‘After that I presume you’d like me to get down the road, as we say at home?’

He frowned as though pondering the question. ‘Well—at least you’ll be able to become acquainted with each other in New Zealand, provided you’re successful in persuading her, of course.’

‘Am I right in assuming that you’ve really tried, but have got nowhere?’ she queried, wondering how much success she herself could expect.

‘Didn’t I tell you she’d used the difficulties of her arthritis as an excuse?’ He turned to regard her as a sudden thought appeared to strike him. ‘In any case, I presume you have a job you must return to?’

She sighed, realising she’d have to admit to being unemployed, and although she hated doing so she said, ‘At the moment I haven’t a job. I’ll look for one when I return.’ Then she hastened to explain, ‘Since I left school I’ve worked in an antique shop in Palmerston North.’

His mouth twisted into a sardonic grin. ‘Don’t tell me—let me guess. You got the push for dropping something of great value.’

‘No, I did not.’ She flared at him angrily. ‘Why must you continually think the worst of me?’

His face became serious as he admitted, ‘I don’t know. It’s something you do to me.’ He turned to stare at her, his brown eyes roving over her face as though searching for the answer in her clear complexion. ‘So what happened?’ he demanded.

She sighed while recalling the disappointment of losing her job, then her expression became bleak as she said, ‘Wouldn’t you prefer to dig up a theory of your own?’

‘Unless you tell me I’ll definitely believe the worst.’

She turned to glare at him. ‘Mr MacGregor, there are times when I find you completely obnoxious.’ But as she looked at his handsome features she knew the statement to be a lie.

‘Is that so, Miss Campbell? Despite your hot words and flare of temper I’m still interested in learning how you lost your job.’

‘It was quite simple,’ she said, deciding that there was no point in being secretive because Amy would be sure to ask similar questions. ‘My employer was a middle-aged widow who decided to get married again. Her new husband is an antique dealer from Auckland, therefore she packed up her entire stock, closed the shop and moved north.’

‘But with no suggestion of taking you with her?’

‘No. Her new husband has a daughter who has taken my place, so it left me high and dry and without a job, but still with a strong desire to handle antiques.’ Her face brightened as she added, ‘In England I went into every antique shop I saw. They were fascinating.’

His gaze rested upon her mouth then moved to the column of her throat as he said, ‘I’m curious to know what there is about antiques that gives you so much pleasure.’

‘I don’t know—unless it’s a feeling for the past. When I hold an old plate or ornament I’m conscious of a strange longing to know about the person who made it, and the people who used it. What were they like? Where did they live?’ She fell silent for several moments before adding, ‘It’s different from your own feeling for the past, which seems to give you only pain.’

‘That’s because it involves people rather than objects,’ he said.

‘The people have passed away, whereas the objects are still here to be cherished,’ she pointed out.

His brow creased as though something puzzled him, and at last he said, ‘Strangely, at home I don’t give the past a second thought. Only since I’ve been here has it affected me.’

‘Are you trying to say you’re a different person at home?’ she asked, a small smile betraying her doubt.

‘Entirely different,’ he retorted abruptly.

‘I must say it’s difficult to believe,’ she said, then added with forced sweetness, ‘That’s the trouble with first impressions—they’re inclined to cling for ever more. I’m unlikely to get rid of—’ Her words dwindled away.

‘Your first impression of me?’ he cut in. ‘Well, I don’t suppose there’s any degree of importance attached to that fact,’ he added while turning the ignition key.

Nevertheless his jaw had become set as they left the paperweight factory’s parking area, and while Cathie expected the drive home to be taken in silence it proved to be otherwise. On the contrary, Baird chatted amicably, mainly, she suspected, to prove that he couldn’t care less what her lasting impression of himself would be.

When they reached Glengyle Amy regarded them anxiously, obviously trying to decide whether the atmosphere between them was still frigid, or whether a thaw had set in. ‘You took your time in collecting one suitcase,’ she observed.

Baird spoke nonchalantly. ‘We visited the paperweight factory.’ He then indicated the suitcase. ‘I presume this goes into the room next to mine?’

‘Yes.’ Amy turned to Cathie. ‘Baird will take you upstairs and show you where you’re to sleep, dear.’

He strode ahead of her, leading the way to a small but cosy room with a dormer window. But before she could gaze at the view stretching below it her attention was caught by a single solid brass bedstead, and the bow-fronted mahogany Scottish chest of drawers. On it sat a Victorian toilet mirror, while nearby was a rocking chair.

‘Like it?’ he asked, a smile hovering about his mobile lips.

‘I’ll love sleeping in that bed,’ she admitted, noticing that the blue and silver-grey bedspread matched the curtains hanging at the dormer window.

‘Just don’t get yourself settled into it for too long,’ he advised in clipped tones. ‘No doubt you’ll soon notice that this house is full of antiques, but unfortunately they can do nothing to help Amy’s arthritis. Do you understand?’

She nodded without speaking.

‘Therefore I’ll rely on you to do your best, and as soon as possible. That is also understood?’

His dictatorial manner riled her, and although she knew he was concerned on Amy’s behalf she swung round to face him, at the same time making no secret of her resentment. ‘Now you listen to me, Baird. You’ve had your turn at persuading Amy, but with little or no success. Now it’s my turn. However, I have no intention of rushing into the job. I’ll attack it as I see fit and when the opportunity presents itself.’

His name had slipped out accidentally, and she could only hope he hadn’t noticed it, or the warmth that had crept into her cheeks.

‘OK—but I’d like you to realise that I can’t dally round this place for much longer. I must get home to the factory, therefore I’ll leave it to you—Cathie.’

So he had noticed her slip. And again he’d mentioned the factory, but still she had no intention of showing her interest in it. Instead she said, ‘Do you mind if I hang up my dresses before I start?’

He took the hint and left her.

Later, when she went downstairs and was able to peep into various rooms, she realised that Baird had not exaggerated when he’d said the house contained numerous antiques. The furniture was either mahogany or walnut, although it was the porcelain that really caught her eye, and she was admiring beautiful vases of Royal Worcester when Amy’s voice spoke from behind her.

‘Ah, there you are, dear. Come and sit beside me. I want to know about my sister. Does she keep good health?’

‘Not really. She grumbles about getting older—’

‘We’re both doing that,’ Amy sighed while leading the way into the living room where Baird sat reading a newspaper. ‘We’re both now in our seventies.’

Baird lowered his newspaper. ‘Seventy-what, Amy?’ he queried.

‘Seventy mumble-mumble,’ she retorted sharply. ‘It’s a secret.’

‘It worries Gran,’ Cathie said, seizing the opportunity to drive this point home. ‘She’s afraid she’ll never see you again.’ She went on to describe her grandmother’s poor state of health, leaving no detail unmentioned.

Amy became thoroughly agitated. ‘Oh, dear—I had no idea she was quite so poorly.’ She stood up abruptly. ‘I must go and tell Elspeth about her.’ She dabbed at a tear.

As she left the room Baird glared at Cathie across the top of his newspaper. ‘Did you have to lay it on quite so thickly?’ he growled. ‘Now you’ve really upset her. I expected you to use gentle persuasion, rather than all this drama that makes it sound as if death’s door is about to open for her sister.’

Cathie became defensive. ‘She asked me about Gran’s health. Did you expect me to lie to her?’

‘But—all that talk about bronchial troubles that could be heading towards emphysema—and the doctor’s warning about not risking bad colds which could allow pneumonia to set in—surely you were exaggerating?’

‘Why should I exaggerate when it’s all true? Besides, it explains why she’s been unable to come over here to visit Amy. Levin has a mild climate, and at least she’s cosy and warm in the flat my father has had built on to our house for her,’ Cathie said.

‘The thought of the dizzy spells seemed to worry Amy.’

‘They caused Gran to be put on blood-pressure pills, and probably the heart pills as well,’ Cathie said, a worried frown creasing her normally smooth brow. ‘Obviously, Gran hasn’t admitted any of these things to Amy. She’d know they’d worry her.’

He eyed her sternly. ‘And now you’ve let the cat out of the bag.’

She felt bewildered. ‘I’ve been doing as you asked, yet you’re annoyed with me—not that there’s anything new about that state of affairs.’

‘I didn’t ask you to upset her. I don’t like seeing Amy unhappy.’

A laugh of derision escaped her. ‘Huh—hark at who’s talking. Don’t you think your previous horrible behaviour towards me will have upset her? Or are you too chauvinistic to admit it?’

‘Amy would understand,’ he declared with confidence. ‘She will have lived with my grandfather long enough to realise how a MacGregor feels towards the Campbell clan.’

‘Is that a fact?’ Cathie’s voice became deceptively honeyed as she forced a smile. ‘Nevertheless I doubt that she’s silly enough to allow her mind to wallow in the past—at least not like one person I could mention.’ Her smile faded as she added, ‘Nor do I believe your grandfather made a habit of it.’

He frowned as anger caused a hot denial to spring to his lips. ‘I have not been wallowing—’ Then he stopped to think about it for several moments until he scowled and made a reluctant admission. ‘Yes—I do believe I have been indulging in a hate session over the clan’s woes. In future I’ll endeavour to keep it under control.’

She looked at him with understanding. ‘You really feel so deeply about what happened all those years ago? In that case I doubt that you’ll ever be able to expel it from your mind completely. Perhaps if you just keep it private—especially your dislike of me.’

‘You’d prefer that I not dislike you?’ The question was put in a tentative manner.

Her chin rose as she stared at him haughtily. ‘Baird MacGregor, I couldn’t care less about your opinion of myself—but if you insist upon coming at me with both guns blazing Amy will be really upset. She’ll guess that any semblance of friendship between us is quite phoney.’

‘Perhaps you’ll recall that I did hold out a hand of friendship, but you brushed it away.’

‘That was because the offer didn’t ring true. I feared that, as I was a Campbell, you might offer friendship with one hand and stab me in the back with the other. A fitting revenge for Glencoe even at this late date.’

He sprang to his feet, his face contorted with fury as he snarled, ‘How dare you suggest I’d do anything so outrageous? Do you honestly believe I’d commit such a monstrous act?’

‘Well, not literally, of course, but I know your dislike of me lies quite deeply.’ The knowledge of this seemed to hurt.

‘At least allow me to say I appreciate the effort you’re making with Amy. I hope you’ll believe that,’ he added with sincerity.

Her hazel eyes widened slightly. ‘I haven’t done anything yet. Amy asked me about Gran and I merely told her the truth. I didn’t even mention a word about travel.’

‘Ah—but you caused her to think. You aimed at the heart, using your grandmother as a weapon. That was the clever part.’

She laughed. ‘That wasn’t clever. It was merely family unity at work.’ There was no need to tell him about the sisters’ fetish about family, she decided.

* * *

Next morning Amy appeared to be thoughtful. She said little at the breakfast table, and by mid-morning she was beginning to yawn. ‘I hardly slept a wink,’ she admitted ruefully. ‘For most of the night I lay thinking about my sister. The thought of never seeing her again made me cry, and now I feel a wreck.’

Baird spoke eagerly. ‘Ah, but you made a decision. You’ll come with me to New Zealand, and you’ll stay in my house until you’ve met my parents? I’ve already told you that Lola from next door will help you with anything you need.’

Amy said, ‘Yes, you’re right. It went round and round in my mind, and I did come to a decision. I decided that if I go to New Zealand with you it will be only on one condition.’ The expression on her face had become stubborn.

Baird frowned. ‘Condition? What do you mean?’

‘I want Cathie to be with me—on the flight and in your house. No doubt this Lola person is kindly and capable, but she’s a stranger, whereas Cathie is—family.’

‘Cathie herself has suggested this to you?’ he queried silkily. ‘Perhaps it was while helping you dress this morning?’

‘Indeed she did not,’ Amy retorted. ‘I have not discussed it with her. Are you saying you object to her being with us?’

Baird stared at her but remained silent.

Cathie laid a hand on Amy’s arm, then leaned forward to say in a low voice, ‘Can’t you see that he doesn’t want me in his house?’

‘Why not?’ Amy demanded sharply.

‘Have you forgotten that I’m a—a Campbell?’

Amy became impatient. ‘This is sheer nonsense. My dear, you are already in his house.’

Cathie felt confused. ‘His house? But—didn’t his father inherit this house?’

‘No, he did not,’ Amy declared bluntly. ‘Baird became the heir to the Glengyle Estate, not his father.’ She turned to him in a weary manner. ‘Why don’t you explain what happened? I’m feeling too tired to try and sort it out.’

Baird’s shoulders lifted slightly. ‘It was the story of a crusty old man not getting his own way. He expected my father to take over his interests and to be ready to step into his shoes. But Father had other ideas. He wanted to build something for himself—which was exactly what Grandfather had done when he’d been young.’

Amy put in, ‘Naturally, at that time Baird’s grandmother was alive, you understand.’

Baird went on, ‘To make matters worse, my father and his fiancée decided to emigrate to New Zealand. It was during a period when our immigration laws made this quite easy to do, but because they were not yet married the old man was sure they’d be living in what he called sin. My grandmother became very upset about it, and he declared it brought on her long illness. He never forgave my father, and before his death he made out his will in favour of me instead of his son.’

The silence which followed his words was broken by Cathie. ‘You are obviously very like your grandfather,’ she said quietly.

‘What makes you so sure of that?’ he demanded abruptly, his eyes glinting with suspicion.

She forced a smile. ‘It’s easy to see you’ve inherited more than Glengyle. You’ve also been endowed with his unforgiving streak, and even now you’re well on the way to becoming a crusty old man.’

‘Thank you,’ he rasped, his jaw tightening.

Amy heaved a deep sigh. ‘Well—I suppose there’s no more to be said. I’ll ask Elspeth to put my two suitcases back under the stairs. I can see it’s quite useless.’

His dark brows shot up. ‘You’d actually reached the suitcase stage? This I can scarcely believe—’

‘Yes—but unless Cathie is with me I’ll not budge an inch.’

Eagerly, he turned to Cathie. ‘You’ll come with us, of course.’

She returned his gaze steadily. ‘I’m not so sure. I’m not amused by being with a man who resents my presence—and as for staying in his house, that’s the last thing I wish to do.’

‘But you’ll do it for Amy’s sake,’ he declared smugly.

‘If I refuse to do it, my grandmother will kill me,’ she said.

Unexpectedly, he reached across the table to take her hand, and, his face unsmiling, he said in a serious tone of voice, ‘Miss Campbell—I hereby invite you to be a guest in this, and in my New Zealand home.’

She snatched her hand away. ‘I accept, Mr MacGregor—but only on sufferance.’

Amy became exasperated. ‘Really, you two—if I hear any more of this Mr and Miss business I’ll bang your heads together.’

Baird laughed. ‘You and who else, Amy?’

‘Elspeth will be delighted to help me,’ she snapped at him.

He laughed again. ‘Before you start I’ll remove myself in the direction of the travel agent. There are arrangements to be made. You don’t mind how soon we leave?’

She hesitated, then admitted, ‘There’s just one place I’d like to visit before going so far away—if you wouldn’t mind driving me there.’

His expression and voice softened. ‘You know I’ll take you anywhere, Amy. Where is this place?’ he asked gently.

She took a deep breath then said, ‘I’ll like to take a last look at the Braes of Balquhidder. There’s a church there—as well as Rob Roy’s grave. Your grandparents often attended church services there, and sometimes, after your grandmother’s death, he would go there to sit alone with his thoughts. Later, after we were married, he occasionally took me to attend a service.’

‘I’ll take you tomorrow,’ Baird promised. ‘Today you must rest and makeup for the sleep you lost last night.’ He then turned to Cathie, his face still unsmiling. ‘If you’ll give me your flight ticket I’ll make the necessary arrangements for you to be with us.’

‘Thank you—I’ll fetch it,’ Cathie said, and as she went upstairs she felt overwhelmed by Baird’s kindness towards her great-aunt. Unexpectedly, she found herself wishing that the affection he gave to Amy included herself—but it didn’t. He was merely tolerating her presence in his house for Amy’s sake.

As soon as he’d left Amy was persuaded to return to bed for a short sleep while Elspeth began sorting through clothes she considered should be taken to New Zealand. Cathie found herself unable to get Baird out of her mind, and was conscious of his absence. She felt at a slight loss, so she made her way to the small library where she discovered that one of the shelves held a row of books, each giving a history of the various Scottish clans.

Here was her chance to learn of her own Clan Campbell, but for some reason she was unable to define she passed over it in favour of the book entitled Clan MacGregor. She carried it to an easy-chair, then settled down to read.

During the next two hours she became lost in the fighting days of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries when most of the clans had been at each other’s throats. The MacGregors had merely done what everyone else was doing, except that they’d done it so much better, until eventually they’d brought sufficient trouble upon their own heads to have the entire clan outlawed and exiled.

She learnt that this state of affairs had come about in 1602 after a fight at Glenfruin when Clan Colquhoun planned to trap the MacGregors. It had resulted in more than two hundred Colquhoun widows taking their husbands’ blood-stained shirts to lay before James VI at Stirling Castle. Each shirt had been carried on a spear.

Cathie shuddered at the thought, then continued reading to learn how the MacGregors had then had their lands taken from them, and had been hunted down by bloodhounds and beagles. Nobody who killed a MacGregor could be punished, and Government rewards had been paid for any MacGregor heads brought in. By Act of Parliament they had not been permitted to use the name of MacGregor.

Years later, because of the clan’s support, the Act was repealed by Charles II. The words gave Cathie a feeling of relief until she read on to discover that it had been renewed by William of Orange when the clan had ranged itself on the side of the Jacobites, and Bonny Prince Charlie. Not until 1775, she learnt, had the penal statutes against the MacGregors finally been repealed.

She had become so engrossed that she failed to hear Baird’s return until a sound caused her to look up and discover him watching her from the doorway. The expression on his face made her feel as if she’d been caught spying, but she met his gaze defiantly.

‘You’re taking the opportunity to read about your clan history?’ he queried, coming further into the room.

‘No—I’ve been delving into your clan history,’ she admitted with satisfaction. ‘Most interesting, I must say—especially the story of the Glenfruin fight and its results.’ She left the chair and replaced the book on the shelf, then swept past him to leave the room, but paused in the doorway to fling at him vehemently, ‘Don’t you dare throw Campbell atrocities at me. Your own clan has a long list that will match any you can produce.’ And, feeling she had won that particular round, she ran upstairs.

A short time later he handed her flight ticket across the lunch table. She saw that its Economy class had been altered to Singapore Raffles class, which was more expensive and gave greater comfort. ‘I shall pay the difference,’ she declared with dignity.

‘You can argue about it with Amy,’ he retorted coldly.

But when Amy vowed she knew nothing about it Cathie realised that Baird had paid the extra money and that she’d have little hope of forcing him to accept repayment. She then regretted her words to him in the library.

* * *

The next afternoon Cathie found herself in the back seat of Amy’s car while Baird drove them to Balquhidder. The road left Crieff to twist and wind through hilly tree-studded valleys, passing solidly built country homesteads with their equally solidly built barns. At times the roadside was colourful with a tall pink or white feathery weed, but it was the purple of the hillside heather that really caused her to catch her breath in sheer delight.

There were times when Baird caught and held her gaze in the rear-view mirror, his frowning reflection causing her to wonder if he resented her presence as much as she suspected. In an effort to brush away the feeling of discomfort she dragged her attention away towards the black-faced sheep and brown shaggy-coated Highland cattle grazing peacefully in the fields.

The long narrow waters of Loch Earn were seen through the trees, and at its head Amy gave directions to turn left, and a couple of miles further on to turn right. ‘This road leads to the Braes of Balquhidder and Loch Voil,’ she informed them.

‘What are braes?’ Cathie felt compelled to ask.

‘They’re slopes at the sides of a river valley,’ Amy explained. ‘And a narrow valley is what we call a glen.’

The tree-lined road followed the contour of the hills through the glen, eventually reaching a small hillside church with its cluster of graves. Beside it were the stone-walled ruins of an earlier church, while only a short distance away the still waters of Lock Voil lay glistening at the base of encircling heather-clad hills.

Baird drove up the short rise and stopped the car in the church parking area. He opened the door for Amy, who got out a little stiffly with one hand gripping her walking stick, and he then led her towards the headstones.

Cathie lingered behind, hesitating to intrude into these moments of nostalgia, but Amy’s voice called to her.

‘Come over here, dear. I’ll show you the grave of the most famous MacGregor of them all. You’ve heard of Rob Roy, of course. He has become a Robin Hood type of legend and was the finest guerilla fighter of his day.’

Cathie joined them to stand at the grave which contained the remains of not only Rob Roy, but also of his wife Mary, and two of his sons. On the simple dark stone above them were three words. ‘MACGREGOR DESPITE THEM.’

Amy went on to explain, ‘Those words come from the old song, “The MacGregors’ Gathering”, which state, “MacGregor despite them shall flourish forever.” They’re easily understood when you know of the clan’s trials and tribulations, and how they were outlawed.’

Her words were followed by a silence broken only by the singing of a thrush. It was perched directly behind them on the stone gable of the ruined church with its date of 1631, and as they turned to look up at it Amy said casually, ‘No doubt you know that Rob Roy’s mother was a Campbell, therefore when his own name was forbidden to be used he took the name of Campbell.’

Cathie began to giggle. ‘Yes—I read about it yesterday in the library.’ She put her hand to her mouth. ‘Sorry—one shouldn’t laugh in a cemetery.’

The thrush sang even louder. It was almost as though it understood the situation, and was also having a hearty laugh.

Baird took Amy’s arm again and they made their way towards the more recent church that stood on higher ground. It appeared to be built of stone similar to the ruined church, and as she entered its cool interior Cathie became conscious of its peaceful atmosphere.

Strangely, the frustrations that Baird seemed to stir within her were wiped away, and she felt an inner happiness while standing beside him to run her hand over the font which had been gouged out of a large hunk of local stone at some unknown earlier date.

The feeling of peace was still with her as they stood close together to examine the bell of the old church which bore the date of 1684. But suddenly her spirits plummeted as she learnt that the Session Chest upon which it rested had belonged to ‘Black Duncan’ Campbell of Glenorchy who had died in 1631, and who had been a ruthless persecutor of Clan MacGregor.

The knowledge made her feel sick, and she moved from Baird’s side to where Amy was putting money in the donation box. Baird followed her, and as she opened her handbag to follow Amy’s example he spoke in a dry tone.

‘I trust the spirits in this place won’t look upon that as tainted money.’

Amy caught his words. She looked at him in a reproving manner then said, ‘Come—I’ll show you where your grandparents used to sit.’ She then led the way towards the front pews, the firm tapping of her walking stick indicating that she was displeased.

Baird and Cathie followed meekly until they were four pews from the front, where Amy had paused.

‘Cathie, sit in there,’ the older woman commanded while pointing at the pew seat with her stick. ‘Baird, you will sit beside her. You will hold her hand.’

A faint smile played about his lips as he sat beside Cathie and took her hand. ‘What is this, Amy? What are you driving at?’ he queried as though humouring her.

‘You are now sitting where your grandfather always sat when he came to this church. Think about it,’ she ordered with an impatient tap on the floor with her stick.

There was silence for a few moments before he said, ‘OK—I’ve thought. So what?’

‘You mentioned the spirits in this place,’ Amy reminded him. ‘Ask them to remove the antagonism that lies between yourself and Cathie—who is sitting where your grandmother always sat.’

He grinned. ‘Are you sure they could do that?’

‘If you could contact your grandfather he’d soon tell you what to do,’ Amy declared with conviction.

Baird’s brows rose. ‘You reckon? So what would that be?’

‘He’d tell you to take that girl in your arms and kiss her—now.’ The stick positively banged on the floor.

Baird turned to look at Cathie, whose cheeks had become pink. ‘I’ve just had a message from above,’ he told her gravely, then took her in his arms and kissed her.

CHAPTER THREE

CATHIE felt shaken by the pressure of Baird’s lips on her own. She had not expected him to take Amy seriously—nor had she expected the tingling sensations that shot through her own body as his arms went about her. Also—a casual caress to satisfy Amy she could have understood, but this was something more than a mere butterfly kiss. It held a hint of suppressed passion.

As it ended she looked at him in a startled, wide-eyed manner while searching for signs that he had experienced at least a little of her own blood-racing reaction; but his inscrutable face betrayed no emotion, and his arms dropped to his sides as quickly as they’d clasped her to him.

He stood up and stepped away from the pew. ‘Does that satisfy you, Amy?’ he asked, sounding faintly amused.

‘It does for the moment,’ she conceded, a gleam of interest appearing in her bright blue eyes as they darted from Cathie to Baird. ‘Some day you’ll both learn that life is too short for quarrels.’

Cathie heard her words only dimly. She was making an effort to pull herself together, and, while she was still conscious of the turbulence within her own mind, she suspected that Baird was completely unmoved. He was as cool as a breeze off the loch, she decided.

And then Amy complained that she was missing her afternoon tea. ‘Couldn’t we buy a few sweeties?’ she pleaded. ‘There’s a shop further along the road.’

They went back to the car and Baird drove the short distance to where a small stone building offered various commodities. Cathie remained with Amy while he went in, and when he returned he carried a bag of liquorice allsorts, a red and green tartan tin of clear golden Scotch barley sugar, and a postcard, which he handed to Cathie.

‘That’s for you,’ he said abruptly as he slid into his seat behind the wheel. ‘It will help you remember.’

She took it from him wonderingly, then realised it was of the present Balquhidder church, its nearby ruin and graves, while beyond them the blue waters of Loch Voil lapped the base of the tree- and heather-clad hills.

‘Thank you,’ she said at last, and while still gazing at the postcard she began to wonder if it was meant to help her remember this place—or the kiss in the church. ‘Did you buy one for yourself?’ she queried casually.

‘There was no need. I’ll not forget this place.’ The reply came in an offhand manner, and the subject was then brushed aside as he turned to Amy with a question. ‘Is there any other area you’d like to visit?’

She thought for a moment then said, ‘Yes—I’d like to go to the Trossachs Wool Shop near Callander. It’s not many miles from here. The Trossachs are woodland glens, you understand.’

‘You have a special purchase in mind?’ Baird asked.

She nodded. ‘A brushed shoulder cape to take to my sister, and a tartan poncho for my niece. And I’d like to see Cathie in a nice kilt skirt.’

Cathie sat forward to protest. ‘Amy, there’s no need—’

‘You have one already?’ Amy demanded over her shoulder.

‘No—but—’

‘Then don’t argue about it. This gives me pleasure. How much pleasure do you think I get these days?’ She waited for an answer but when none came she went on, ‘I’ll buy you one in Campbell tartan with plenty of green in it.’

‘Thank you, Amy,’ Cathie said in a small voice, then, watching Baird’s reflection in the rear-view mirror, she noticed his lips become compressed. He’s annoyed about it, she thought, then decided it must be her imagination. Surely he couldn’t care less about what she wore. No—of course he couldn’t, therefore she relaxed and looked forward to visiting the wool shop.

They found it to be full of tourists, all appearing to be anxious to spend money, and as Cathie gazed at the colourful tartan garments she seemed to be wafted into a hazy dream. The pleated kilt that Amy insisted upon buying for her was dark blue and green with a narrow yellow stripe. It buckled on either side of her waist, and when Amy became determined to purchase a matching green pullover Cathie knew it would be useless to argue.

‘Keep them on,’ Amy requested when Cathie made a move to change back into the clothes she’d been wearing. ‘The day has turned much cooler, and besides, you look so nice.’

Cathie obeyed, not only because she wished to please Amy, but also because she felt so comfortable in the garments.

They went to find Baird, whose attention had been caught by the piles of tartan rugs stacked on shelves, but instead of affording Cathie’s new outfit so much as a second glance he appeared to be intent upon giving them minute examination by checking their size, scrutinising the weave and running his fingers over the nap.

Was this his way of indicating he disapproved of her accepting gifts from Amy? she wondered. Then doubt crept in as she recalled that only the day before yesterday he’d advised her to accept graciously whatever Amy wished to offer. And then enlightenment dawned as she realised he could not be expected to admire a Campbell kilt, no matter how beautifully the pleats hung.

When she least expected it he turned and surveyed her, drawling in a sardonic tone, ‘Very voguish, Miss Campbell.’

She smiled sweetly. ‘I thought you’d never notice—although I can hardly believe that you really think so—Mr MacGregor.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Obviously for you it’s the wrong tartan.’

He looked at her thoughtfully. ‘I’m afraid you don’t really know much about me. You’re unaware that high-quality woollen goods always please me, no matter what colour of pattern. Just look at the excellence of these rugs.’

And so her smart appearance was dismissed as he turned his attention back to the shelves and their contents. Nor could she understand why she should feel so disappointed in his lack of interest, especially when it was what she’d expected.

A short time later they were joined by Amy, who had completed her own shopping, and when Baird examined the contents of the plastic carrier bags he displayed much more interest in the shoulder cape and poncho than he’d given to the new garments Cathie was wearing. ‘Very nice,’ he said. ‘Are you ready to go home now? I suspect Elspeth will be wondering where we are.’

‘She will not,’ Amy assured him. ‘She’s out visiting a friend. But in any case I am ready, because I want to wrap a couple of small gifts to take to your mother.’

He looked pleased as he said, ‘That’s kind of you. May I ask what they are? Something you’ve bought here—?’

‘Indeed no. They’re two Royal Doulton figurines I have at home—my own, and not part of the Glengyle Estate,’ she added quickly.

He laughed. ‘It wouldn’t matter if they were.’

She went on, ‘I call them my two old dears because they’re both elderly women. One is a sitting figure in a brown skirt and tartan shawl. She holds a bunch of coloured balloons which she hopes to sell. I always feel sorry for her.’

‘And the other?’ Baird queried.

‘The other wears a blue dress and white apron. She bends forward slightly while holding a jug of milk and a saucer to feed her cat, which squats before her with one paw up. Her expression indicates that she adores the cat.’

‘I’ve noticed them,’ Cathie put in. ‘They’re both on the windowsill in the lounge.’

‘I’ve always loved them,’ Amy admitted to Baird. ‘I hope your mother will also love them.’

‘And you’re sure you’re willing to sacrifice them? Amy, you’re very sweet,’ he said softly.

‘Not at all,’ she returned in a brisk manner. ‘It’s just that I wouldn’t take anything to her unless it was something that I myself really liked.’

When they reached home Amy led the way towards the lounge, but at the doorway an exclamation of dismay escaped her. ‘Oh, dear—they’ve gone!’ she cried. ‘Where can they be? And look—the window has been left slightly open. Do you think they could’ve been lifted through—?’

‘That’s hardly likely, in broad daylight,’ Baird pointed out. ‘Perhaps Elspeth has moved them.’ He put his arms about Amy, drawing her close to him in an effort to comfort her, then produced a clean handkerchief to wipe a tear that had appeared on her cheek.

‘Do you usually leave windows open when you go out?’ Cathie asked.

‘No, never. And Elspeth is always so careful,’ Amy said.

Watching Baird, Cathie felt moved by his sympathy towards the older woman. The fact that he really cared for Amy became emphasised in her mind, and not for the first time she wished that his underlying antagonism towards herself could be wiped away.

He looked at her across the top of Amy’s head. ‘I think a cup of tea would be a help. Would you make one while we search in the other rooms?’

‘Yes, of course.’ She went to the kitchen where the recollection of his attentions to his stepgrandmother remained with her, and as she filled the electric kettle she visualised them walking through the rooms, his arm still about Amy’s shoulders.

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