She frowned. She could see the smoke from the hotel chimneys streaming up behind the trees, tattered and shredded by the wind. Why on earth had she not explained to Jack her true position? Why hadn’t she told Neil Forbes? Stupid pride, that was the reason. She felt they should have believed her; they should automatically have trusted her. But they hadn’t and now Forbes had no doubt turned everyone against her.
Stretching painfully she whistled to Casta and set off purposefully across the grass. She would go back to the hotel and insist on putting Jack in the picture, and she would see Neil Forbes and swallow her pride and explain to him as well.
Jack was in the restaurant supervising the laying of the luncheon tables. They usually ended up with a dozen or so visitors on a Saturday at this time of year, because their reputation was spreading, and however bad the weather people usually managed to get there. He still prided himself on his food, even if the restaurant would soon be closed.
He straightened as she walked in.
‘Is Neil Forbes here?’ she said as firmly as she could. ‘I’d like to speak to him. I think there are one or two things I should make clear to you both.’
Jack raised an eyebrow. For a moment she thought he was going to refuse, but he said nothing. He walked through to the office and picking up the phone rang Neil’s room. He did not go back to her.
Neil and Kathleen found her in the bar, standing staring out of the window. She was still wearing her coat. For a moment she and Kathleen gazed at each other. Kathleen felt a warning prickle creep up her spine. The woman was beautiful, young, elegant. Oh God, and rich! She narrowed her eyes, glancing at Neil. His face was closed and uncompromising.
‘Mrs Royland?’
Clare turned to him from the window with an uncertain smile. ‘I want to talk to you.’
‘All right.’ He inclined his head.
‘Alone.’
‘Anything you want to say to him can be said in front of me,’ Kathleen put in hastily. She suppressed the urge to rest her hand on Neil’s arm, knowing it would irritate him.
Neil was looking at Clare coldly. For a moment he appeared to be considering, then he nodded. ‘All right. Kath, if you will excuse us, Mrs Royland and I can talk in the lounge. You have a drink. I won’t be long.’
Not even seeing the look of venomous anger which crossed Kathleen’s face he led the way towards the small residents’ lounge and opened the door for Clare. She went in ahead of him and he closed the door behind them and leaned against it waiting for her to speak.
She swallowed, appalled suddenly to find herself near to tears. He had folded his arms, his eyes on her face. Desperately she looked away. ‘I had to talk to you again.’
‘I don’t see why. I doubt if you and I have anything else to say to one another.’
‘Please –’
‘Mrs Royland. We belong to different worlds. Mine is a caring one.’ His expression was very hard. ‘When it comes to talking, I very much doubt if we speak the same language.’ He knew he was being hard on her; he could see she was upset but somehow he wanted to go on punishing her.
She stared at him as if unable to decide whether to run towards him and try to scratch out his eyes or run away. The long silence drew out between them; the atmosphere was becoming electric.
At last she turned away, breaking the spell. ‘Why won’t you let me explain?’ she cried. ‘Why do you hate me so much? You know nothing about me!’
‘Mrs Royland, I assure you –’
‘Clare. My name is Clare.’ She could feel her hands shaking. Desperately she put them into the pockets of her coat.
He raised an eyebrow. ‘How nice.’ His tone was sarcastic. ‘Then, Clare, let me assure you that I have no reason to hate you personally. After all, I hardly know you. What I hate is everything you stand for.’
‘And what do I stand for?’ She stared at him.
He gave a short laugh. ‘The uncaring face of capitalism.’
‘Uncaring?’ she echoed. ‘How can you say I’m uncaring?’
‘Easily.’ Actually he found it far from easy. The pain and bewilderment in her face were obvious. ‘Now, if that is all you wanted to say to me –’
He turned and put his hand on the door handle.
‘It isn’t,’ she said with an effort. ‘Please, can we start again?’ Walking across to the window she stood with her back to him and she took a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry, I was rude to you this morning. I’d had an accident in my car and been out all night.’
Neil frowned. ‘Are you hurt?’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘A few bruises and some wounded dignity, that’s all.’ She managed a bleak smile. ‘I shouldn’t have ordered you off my land.’ She took another deep unsteady breath, forcing herself to go on talking. ‘We’re on the same side, Mr Forbes. When I told you I had not sold Duncairn, I meant it. I have turned down Sigma’s offer. I never even considered it.’
He looked at her incredulously. ‘Then why in God’s name didn’t you say so, woman! Why did you let me go on at you like that?’ He was suddenly very angry.
She shrugged. ‘You assumed the worst, and called me names.’
‘I didn’t call you names –’
‘Yes you did, Mr Forbes, you called me English.’ She gave a wry grimace.
He was about to retort, then he changed his mind. Instead he burst out laughing.
‘And the insult hurt! I’m sorry. I retract every word of it. Look, Mrs Royland – Clare – I’m sorry. I’ve obviously jumped to the wrong conclusion about you. Perhaps I should explain. I don’t know you, but I do know your husband – or at least, I did some years ago. We were at the same college, and although I was a couple of years behind him we had occasion to cross swords once or twice.’
To his surprise she had gone pale. ‘You know Paul?’
He nodded. ‘He must have changed a lot if he’s prepared to pass up an offer such as Sigma have made.’
‘He hasn’t changed.’ Her bitter words were so quiet he hardly heard them. Suddenly she was desperately trying not to cry; she groped in her pocket for a handkerchief.
‘Hey, come on –’ Touched by her distress, he stepped towards her and involuntarily he reached out.
Her throat was aching; there was a weight of tears somewhere in her chest. Blindly, scarcely realising what she was doing, she went to him, desperate for any kind of comfort, and clung to him, her face buried in his shoulder, overwhelmed by the reassurance of being held by another human being, not even aware who it was she was clinging to. He was warm and solid and his arms around her were very strong. For a moment she remained there, sobbing softly, trembling so much that she could hardly stand.
He was surprised how frail she felt, even wearing the thick coat. He scowled down at the soft dark fur, but managed to restrain himself from commenting. Now was not the moment to tell her that she had blood on her back. Instead he patted it awkwardly in the region of her shoulderblades. ‘I gather he is still a bastard,’ he said gently. To his surprise he found he wanted to go on holding her. She felt right in his arms.
She nodded, still clinging to him.
‘And he’s putting pressure on you to sell?’ Her perfume was intoxicating.
She nodded again. Slowly she was realising where she was. She felt a sudden shock as her body became aware of his, so close to hers, and at the recognition which flowed through her.
Embarrassed she pulled away from him.
‘I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s the matter with me. Please, forgive me.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ he said gruffly. He pulled himself together swiftly. ‘I think we should all have a cup of coffee and discuss this.’ Just because the woman was beautiful and apparently helpless, he was not going to soften. She still represented the class enemy.
She smiled at him wanly. ‘Can you persuade Jack to give me one? He refused to serve me.’
‘I’m afraid that’s my fault. If you’d only told me!’ He turned to the door and pulled
it open. ‘Jack!’
Jack was waiting in the bar with Kathleen.
‘I’m glad to say we seem to have misjudged Mrs Royland. My mistake. I jumped to the wrong conclusion about her. Can you get her some coffee, then we can have a council of war.’
Behind Jack, Kathleen was peering at them. She eyed Clare suspiciously.
‘You mean she is not going to sell?’ Jack’s face was dour. ‘Or did they not offer enough money yet?’
‘They offered more money than I’d ever dreamed of.’ Clare gave a weary smile. ‘I turned them down.’
‘Well, good for you!’ Kathleen’s tone was sarcastic. ‘Didn’t you need any more for the moment?’
Neil frowned at her, but he said nothing. Let Clare Royland fight her own battles with Kathleen. Enough that the land was safe for the time being.
Clare glanced at Kathleen but she said nothing. Still huddled in her coat she walked over to the window overlooking the front of the hotel and stood, hands deep in her pockets, staring out. ‘Paul will follow me here,’ she said at last.
‘Will he indeed?’ Neil said grimly.
‘He will have got to my parents’ house by now,’ she went on without turning, ‘and when he finds out I’ve gone, he’ll know I’ve come here.’
‘He can’t force you to sell.’ Neil folded his arms.
‘No.’ She sounded bleak.
‘Are you running away from him?’ he asked cautiously, after a moment.
She gave a tight little laugh. ‘Yes, I suppose I am. When I left London I thought I had left him. That’s what people say, isn’t it? “I’ve left my husband.” I assumed I could come home and he would stay behind; a part of my life I could close the door on. But it isn’t like that.’
Behind them Jack re-entered the bar. On a huge tray he had a pot of coffee and four cups and a plate of biscuits. He slid the tray on to a low table.
‘The thing is –’ Clare faced them again, determined to tell them everything now that she had confided in them so far. ‘He needs the money, and I think he will stop at nothing to get it.’
Kathleen sat down opposite the tray and picked up the coffee pot proprietorially. ‘You make him sound a dangerous man,’ she said mockingly.
‘He is.’ Neil’s soft voice made Jack and Kathleen halt in their tracks. ‘Don’t sneer, Kath. Remember, I know Paul Royland of old.’
Clare shivered. ‘What am I to do?’
‘Keep on running, dear,’ Kathleen said with a smile. ‘That’s what I’d do in your shoes. He wouldn’t know where to follow you after Duncairn.’
Neil shook his head. ‘She can’t run for the rest of her life.’
‘Your aunt wouldn’t have run at all,’ Jack put in. ‘She’d have stood and fought.’
And so would Isobel. The unspoken thought was suddenly in Clare’s mind.
Neil was watching her face. ‘I don’t think Clare is the same kind of person her aunt was,’ he said.
He saw the colour flare into her cheeks. ‘Meaning you think I’m a coward?’
‘No.’ He smiled. ‘But maybe you’ve lived in the south too long. You would prefer to negotiate your way out of trouble.’
‘You can’t negotiate with Paul,’ Clare said flatly. ‘Not even you, with all your native Scots cunning, could do that.’ She met his eye, suddenly challenging.
‘Now, there’s a proposition,’ Kathleen said dryly. ‘You know, I think I’d like to see this tyrant for myself.’
Jack was watching Clare closely. The colour had drained from her face again. She looked exhausted and near collapse. He felt a sudden wave of compassion. He had always been fond of wee Clare. Her new image as traitor and absentee landlord had never really seemed to fit her. Margaret Gordon would never have left her Duncairn if there had been any doubt about Clare’s fitness to own the place. ‘Why don’t I find you a room, lass?’ he broke in impatiently. ‘You look as though you could do with a sleep. You’ll have had a long drive, I’m thinking. If your husband turns up, we’ll send him on his way.’
‘Can you do that for me?’ The relief in her eyes was obvious to them all.
‘Give me your car keys. I’ll hide that gas guzzler of yours in one of the garages at the back of the hotel.’ Neil put down his coffee cup. ‘We’ll talk some more when you are rested. Jack is right. You should have a sleep. You look as if you’re about to collapse.’
The room Jack gave her looked east towards the castle. It was a large room, next to Kathleen and Neil’s, with two tall windows, a double bed, a mahogany chest of drawers and two vast wardrobes. Casta, who had followed Clare upstairs, lay down contentedly on the carpet between the windows as Clare sat down on the bed to pull off her boots and trousers. Then too tired to undress further, she threw herself back on to the bed and dragged the covers up over her. In spite of the terrible ache in her shoulder she was asleep within two minutes.
Paul stopped in Aberdeen for lunch. He had no doubt that she was at Duncairn but now he was so close he had to consider how best to act. He ordered himself some steak and kidney pie, a salad and a glass of wine. Everyone was on his side: Geoffrey, David, Antonia and Archie. All he had to do now was to get Clare back to Airdlie and keep her there. He sat gazing into space as he chewed. The question was, how was he going to do it? It didn’t have to be for long; all he needed was the power of attorney and time to complete the deal with Cummin. He sat back, legs crossed, sipping his wine with enjoyment as he considered. It would be easy to break Clare. He didn’t want to hurt her, but if that was what it took to get his way, then hurt her he would. It was her own fault that she had become involved with all this crazy idiocy and made herself vulnerable. She had played into his hands. No one would ever believe her now. Anything she said about him would be put down as madness. He smiled to himself and beckoned the waiter, ordering another glass of wine.
He walked into the Duncairn Castle Hotel at 3.15 p.m. Jack Grant was in the office. He recognised Paul at once.
‘Mr Royland. How nice to see you again.’
Paul smiled tautly. ‘And you. Is my wife here, Grant?’
‘Your wife?’ Jack looked blank. ‘I’ve not seen her for a long time, Mr Royland.’
Paul frowned. ‘Are you sure? She was on her way here.’
Slowly Jack shook his head. ‘We’ve had quite a lot of visitors here today, with the sunshine, but I’d have seen her if she looked in.’
Paul swore under his breath. Then he went to the window. ‘I suppose she would have gone to the castle, if she had come here. I’ll go over and see.’
Without a word he rounded on his heel and marched out of the room.
Grant watched him from the window, a tall, heavy figure striding across the grass towards the trees. The day was growing murky now. A mother-of-pearl haze was building up over the sea, and with it came the cloud. With a grim shrug he strode into the bar and began to poke the fire.
Upstairs, Clare, deeply asleep, snuggled further under the bedclothes and Casta, with a sigh, stood up, turned round and subsided again on to the carpet, head on paws.
The castle was deserted. Paul walked into the courtyard and stopped, staring round. The clouds had reached him now and they were carrying sleet. The first shower slanted in from the sea and across the stone walls, soaking into his jacket. Below the cliffs the sea was plunging angrily on to the rocks, sucking at the shingle and swirling in amongst the weed. He shuddered. What did Clare see in this Godforsaken place? If it had been his he would have paid someone to take it off his hands!
He walked round slowly, peering into the chapel, the tower, round the curtain walls, searching, expecting every moment to see her huddled figure against the stone. Twenty minutes later he strode back into the hotel.
Neil was standing with his back to the fire in the hall reading the Scotsman. He lowered it as Paul came in. Jack was nowhere to be seen.
Neil nodded. ‘Jack Grant told me you were here, Royland. It’s been a long time.’
Paul stared at him, for a mom
ent at a loss, then his eyes narrowed in recognition. ‘Forbes! I heard you had involved yourself in our affairs.’
Neil grinned humourlessly. ‘Earthwatch is opposing the granting of prospecting licences on this and several other sites on mainland Scotland, yes.’
‘Sigma will get the licence.’ Paul peeled off his sodden jacket. ‘The government lobby for onshore oil is too strong.’
‘We’ll see,’ Neil said amiably. He eyed Paul. ‘Do I hear you have lost your wife?’
Paul’s jaw tightened imperceptibly. ‘We were to meet here. Apparently she hasn’t arrived.’
‘Oh, she arrived.’ Neil folded the newspaper and put it down on the circular table in the middle of the hall. ‘She never mentioned that she was meeting you here, though. She must have forgotten.’ He grinned. ‘She has gone on north. She mentioned that she was going to stay with a friend in Fraserburgh.’
‘Fraserburgh?’ Paul stared at him.
Neil nodded emphatically.
‘The only person she knows in Fraserburgh is old Jeannie Campbell,’ Paul went on thoughtfully.
‘Then that must be where she has gone.’ Neil was standing with his back to the fire, feeling the comforting warmth of the burning driftwood. He put his hands behind his back and rubbed them together, trying to curb his dislike of the man facing him.
Paul frowned. For a moment he hesitated, then he swung back towards the door, shrugging his wet jacket back on. ‘I’ll go after her.’ He paused and glared at Neil not even trying to hide his animosity. ‘We’ll meet again, Forbes, if you continue to oppose my plans for this place. You can’t stop progress, you know. No one can.’
Neil narrowed his eyes. ‘The campaign I’m organising would stop World War Three. You won’t know what has hit you, Royland, if you tangle with Earthwatch. Believe me.’ He kept a grip on his temper with difficulty. ‘You just look at the papers next week if you don’t believe me.’ He smiled. He turned away, then over his shoulder he added, ‘We’ll see how the public likes the idea of rich City tycoon Paul Royland selling his wife’s inheritance to make yet more money out of the environment. I hope you find your missing wife, Royland.’ His tone was mocking.
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