Winds from the Sea

by Margaret Pargeter

  Sara was too absorbed to manage more than a brief apology. “I’m sorry—about your arm, I mean. And the—buzzard. Are you quite sure?” She swung back to stare at him, a faintly perplexed look in her eyes.

  He flexed his broad shoulders lightly, noting her doubtful expression. “The eagle,” he explained, “is larger, with a wing span up to seven feet. It’s dark brown too, but with a lot of golden brown on its crown and nape, whereas a buzzard, as you can see, is usually white underneath. There are more buzzards in the West Highlands and Wales than in any other region.”

  To her surprise he leant over in front of her and wound down the window. For a few seconds she was intensely aware of his body touching her own. “Won’t it fly away?” she asked in a low voice, her breath catching unevenly in her throat, though whether because of the buzzard or Hugh Fraser’s unexpected proximity she scarcely knew.

  His eyebrows rose fractionally. As if unaware of her quickening pulses he kept his arm along the back of her seat, his fingers touching her shoulder. “I’ve seen them sit without moving for more than an hour, but if they do see something they fancy they can drop from their perch with great speed. They like rabbits and voles and such-like. I’m afraid the gamekeepers aren’t very fond of them as they’re said to take game, and a lot of them get shot.”

  “Aren’t they protected?” Sara twisted around to meet his eyes indignantly.

  “They are.” His hand shifted as he moved slightly, “but sometimes the law isn’t always effective, and can be difficult to enforce in a place such as this.”

  “Not exactly a paradise for birds.” A cool wind from the sea caught her words and blew them softly through the wiry green grass. “Oh, look!” She jerked back against him, excitement replacing regret as the buzzard, apparently not appreciating the attention it was receiving, soared effortlessly into the air. The variegated pattern under its spread wings, caught by a flickering ray of sunlight, was a thing of beauty. Sara held her breath.

  A slight smile touched his well-cut mouth as his gaze stayed momentarily on her animated face, so near his own, before turning to watch the huge bird settle on a rocky crag high above them. “They have a wing span of at least four feet, and the female is larger than the male.” With a touch of finality he wound up the window and started the engine again. “If you’re really interested we could go out one day and do a spot of bird-watching properly.”

  “When there’s more time.” She shaded her eyes against the bright sunlight. The buzzard disappeared from view as the road twisted up the side of the loch. He was too busy ever to have time!

  “Time ...” He frowned suddenly, as if he followed the silent trend of her thoughts. “I never seem to have enough of that, Sara.”

  “I suppose it rather depends what one wants from life. Cars like this, for instance.” Her fingers curved uncertainly over the luxurious leather seat.

  “You could be right.” His eyes touched her fingers. “But this new Jaguar belonged to my uncle. It seemed easier than bringing my own.”

  Sara grimaced inwardly as he turned her ambiguous remark neatly back on her, although she was willing to bet that his own car would be no rattletrap. She felt sure he would demand the best, whether it was cars or women, and the thought was curiously disquieting.

  “Do you drive, Sara?”

  “Yes, I do.” At home she still had the Mini which her parents had given her on her last birthday.

  “If you can manage this, you can borrow it sometimes. In fact I’ll let you drive after tea. You’ll soon get the hang of it.”

  Her eyes were suddenly brilliant, because she was young and rather reckless beneath the protective veneer of passivity engendered by the events of the past few weeks. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll do something silly?” She smiled happily, her smile a dazzling whiteness across her animated face.

  “I was beginning to think you never would.” He considered her for a moment with evident amusement, noting at a glance the sparkling change of her expression! “Perhaps we shall see the chrysalis emerging yet!”

  Sara sobered instantly. Why must he put a damper on everything? But perhaps it was her own fault, allowing herself to be so ridiculously pleased by the idea of driving this car. Yet his remark did strike a responsive chord deep within her, a zest for living which she had not known for weeks. And it might be better to remember that he probably enjoyed teasing her as he would his young aster, baiting her with subtle raillery against which her best defence would be indifference.

  Stubbornly, as she sensed he awaited a sharp retort, she remained smiling but silent, but felt inordinately relieved to see that they were approaching Tobermory.

  Once parked he left her with a brief nod, obviously dismissing her from his mind as easily as he did their barbed conversation, although he did arrange to meet her later for tea.

  Tobermory was a beautiful little town on the northeast side of the island, and one of the safest anchorages. The harbour, gracefully shaped, faced east, with steep hill-slopes encircling it and falling to the water’s edge. Sara wandered slowly around, enjoying her freedom, feeling totally relaxed after days spent at her typewriter. She found her work interesting, some of old Mr. Fraser’s documents were totally absorbing, but it was nice to be out.

  In such a short space of time the strange tightness which had gripped her heart since her parents’ death seemed to ease almost completely. She would never be able to understand why such accidents had to happen, but the sharp, piercing edge of resentment was gently disappearing, and in its place came a less hurtful acceptance of the inevitable. As she stood there, in the warm sunshine, she could feel a new lightness of spirit which she had thought lost for ever.

  If only Jane could have been here. She must write and tell her about it. After all, it had been her idea in the first place. She walked on towards the harbour. Inadvertently, because she was thinking of Jane, her thoughts strayed to James Kerr. He had been in love with Jane for years and Mummy used to say it would be an ideal match, but Jane always hesitated. Perhaps she was right when she said that marriage didn’t always spell happiness. Ambiguously Sara’s thoughts went to Hugh Fraser.

  Impatiently she shrugged her slim shoulders. Why did her mind keep edging towards him? She knew that part of herself felt his dark attraction intensely, which wasn’t the same as falling in love with him, she told herself firmly. She was only conscious of him because they spent so much time working together. When Jill came and she got out more, things would soon fall into their proper perspective!

  Determined to forget about him for a while, she wandered around the harbour, keeping to the main street which followed the harbour wall, looking at the eighteenth-century houses with their pointed attics and different coloured, painted stone walls. Everything looked neat and bright and curiously deserted.

  The air of sleepiness was infectious. Completely submissive, Sara leant over the low harbour wall, the fresh sea air softly caressing her face and gently lifting her neatly combed hair. In the warmth of the sun she felt her eyelids closing.

  It was then that some heightened sense of perception caused her to jerk upright and stare across the road. To her surprise the young man who had rescued her bag on the day she had arrived was strolling out of one of the shops along the sea-front. Sara blinked and looked again. It was the same bearded stranger; she would recognize his face anywhere.

  While she watched undetected he loaded a box of provisions into the boot of his car. So he was still here! Maybe he was an islander after all? Or he could have rented accommodation where he looked after himself, which would account for the groceries. For no particular reason a curious frown creased Sara’s brows as she watched him drive quickly away. He had glanced briefly in her direction, but given no indication that he knew her. Probably this wasn’t surprising as their former acquaintance had been short, but somehow she found this difficult to believe. Puzzled, but not unduly perturbed, she turned back to her silent contemplation of the bay.

  She told Hugh abo
ut him later, on their way home.

  “I suppose a lot of tourists visit Mull every year?” she finished lamely, wishing rather belatedly that she had never mentioned the man. Hugh probably thought her insatiably curious.

  “Do you feel interested in him, Sara?” As he turned the big car he ignored her question by asking one of his own, his voice deliberately smooth as he glanced at her delicate profile.

  She refused to be angry. “Not particularly,” she said truthfully, “I just wondered why he hadn’t moved on.”

  “Well, don’t let it bother you.” His hard grin was slightly malicious. “Small communities breed curiosity, remember. Have you ever lived in a small place, Sara?”

  She smiled ruefully, remembering the country town she called home, but she also recalled the lack of loneliness, the fun, and the shared interests. “People care in small communities,” she said fiercely.

  He retorted sharply, “They can be stifling.”

  “I don’t think so!”

  “So we must agree to differ,” he drawled. “We appear to differ about many things, I believe?”

  Sara sensed in his words a certain restiveness. Almost as if he was discovering and disliking a need to come to terms with another way of life. Was he finding the tenacious pull of a more settled existence so very irritating when he enjoyed his freedom and roaming the world? She turned her attention to his last question. “Do you find it surprising that we haven’t much in common?”

  “Ha!” He threw back his dark head and laughed. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you, Sara, that men and women very rarely have much in common, to begin with anyway, and the one emotion which sometimes bridges the gap is extremely hazardous.”

  “You mean—love?”

  His eyes glinted on her hot cheeks and he sounded unbearably cynical. “I do. Have you ever been in love?”

  Sara turned her head. Not really, she could have told him, but because she felt he was intentionally treading on holy ground she remained silent. Besides, why should she admit her own inexperience? He was arrogant enough to find it entertaining!

  “You’ll have to take the plunge some time,” he mocked, as she sat inarticulate, “but I wouldn’t advise you to choose a passing tourist.”

  “Have no fear, I won’t. I can always wait until I return to London.” Just so long as I don’t fall for you, her wayward heart prayed as his taunting gaze swung to her face and lingered, as it had done once before, on her vulnerable mouth before returning to the road again. Her pulse raced as if she had been running, almost as if he had taken her physically in his arms and kissed her.

  The irony crept back into his face. “Of course,” he murmured, “the great metropolis! And you like to pretend you can do without it!” He shrugged his shoulders indifferently, apparently losing interest in their conversation as he concentrated on his driving. Sara felt a curious tension slowly leave her limbs.

  They were returning by the east coast to Salen, but for once Sara stared unseeing at the spectacular seascapes. Hugh had taken her for tea to the largest hotel in Tobermory, and been attentive enough to satisfy any girl’s ego. When he liked he had a charm which she thought might be calculated, but against which she had found she had little defence. Against her will she had found herself responding. The danger lay in allowing herself to be lulled into a state of credulity. In thinking that Lochgoil composed his world, instead of being just a place he would dispose of, along with herself, as soon as it was suitably convenient!

  She lay back in her seat and half closed her eyes as they swept around the next bend. “A penny for them?” he smiled idly, confounding her suspicions that his thoughts were elsewhere. Then before she could reply he turned the car sharply into a passing place and jumped out.

  There was another car parked there, a long luxurious sports model, and a tall dark girl stood beside it, obviously in trouble. She was surveying it moodily, but as Hugh stopped Sara saw her sullen expression change to one of startled delight.

  “Hugh!” she cried gladly, throwing her arms around his neck and holding her red mouth up to be kissed. “I’d no idea you were here!”

  Hugh laughed, and Sara watched curiously as he embraced the girl lightly, holding her at arms’ length. “It’s good to see you again, Beth. I thought you were still in France?” He kissed her again, quite tenderly, Sara thought.

  Something clicked in Sara’s head as she remembered Biddy saying, on the night she had arrived, that the girl Hugh might marry was in France. Could this be the girl, or was it just a coincidence that she had been in France too?

  “I was.” Beth’s rather deep voice carried. “I just got home yesterday and thought I’d take the car out for a run. I’m afraid it stands in the garage too much. Unfortunately I seem to have a flat tyre, and was hoping someone would come along and fix it for me, but I never expected it would be you!”

  Hugh smiled lazily as he bent down to look at the wheel. “I always know when to turn up,” he teased. Sara saw his teeth gleam white and hard. With laughter lightening up his face and accentuating the arrogant tilt of his head he looked like some dark pirate, and, Sara suspected, was quite capable of acting like one!

  Beth’s eyes, Sara noticed, never left his face as she asked quickly where he had been.

  “To Tobermory,” Hugh waved negligently towards Sara. “With my new secretary, so you’re in luck. Sara Winton, Beth Asquith,” he introduced them.

  “Secretary?” Beth’s bewildered eyes turned to where Sara sat in the Jaguar, obviously seeing her for the first time. “What on earth do you want with a secretary at Lochgoil?” Her words penetrated clearly and coldly as she swung back indignantly to Hugh who was already removing his jacket, prior to changing her tyre.

  “You’d be surprised,” he mocked, his amused glance moving briefly to Sara’s face, and she flushed with annoyed confusion before Beth’s unfriendly eyes.

  Beth must surely realize that he was only teasing, but how dared he even hint of an intimacy which didn’t exist! No doubt Beth would find out soon enough that the relationship he alluded to was strictly on a working basis, but she seemed a girl with little sense of humour and it was unkind of Hugh to tease her in such a way. “I could have helped with your office work myself,” Sara heard her say.

  She didn’t hear Hugh’s reply, but whatever it was it appeared to satisfy Beth. Her tight expression relaxed as she crouched by his side apparently intent on exchanging gossip.

  Sara frowned suddenly. This must be the woman who Biddy had hinted might be Hugh Fraser’s future wife. An unaccountable feeling of dismay caught her heart only to be squashed immediately. Beth must be near his own age, and eminently suitable, and it was plan that she was more than a little attracted towards him. A marriage between them might provide exactly the right incentive he needed to settle down on the island, and would probably solve a lot of problems. Sara couldn’t think why the idea of it should prove so distasteful.

  Next day Jill arrived. For Sara the day started badly with Katie rousing her before seven, telling her that Biddy had taken to her bed, and that Mr. Hugh had told her to get Miss Winton up to cook breakfast.

  “It’s her pains again, miss,” Katie explained when Sara ran quickly downstairs. “Usually when she can’t get up I try to manage myself, but last time I scalded my hand with the kettle and burnt the toast, and old Mr. Fraser said that he felt poorly all day afterwards. I didn’t like to ask you, miss, but Mr. Hugh said that you’re sure to be a good cook.”

  And what if I am? Sara thought resentfully, as she knotted herself into one of Biddy’s huge white aprons. Surely he didn’t expect her to turn her hand to everything? Regarding Biddy’s rheumatism, he’d soon be murmuring—”I’m sure with your nursing experience, Sara—”

  Sara refused to admit that most of her ill-humour might stem from the night before. When after leaving Beth he had apparently forgotten all about his offer to let her drive the car. Or was it because the afternoon had seemed spoilt when Beth, with a few chilly, well-c
hosen words, had let Sara know quite clearly that she wasn’t welcome at Lochgoil? Hugh, busy with Beth’s car, probably hadn’t heard.

  Hastily Sara poured a cup of tea and arranged some biscuits daintily on a rose-patterned plate. “I’ll take Biddy’s tray up myself,” she told a hovering Katie, “before I get breakfast. I might be able to make her more comfortable.”

  Biddy complained of severe pains in her hip and said that the doctor’s tablets didn’t agree with her so she had put them down the sink. She seemed pleased with the tea, although she told Sara she shouldn’t have bothered.

  “I think aspirin’s as good as most things.” Sara shook two tablets from a bottle which she had found in the kitchen, and surprisingly Biddy swallowed them obediently, while Sara watched and made a mental note to have a word with her doctor. “What you need right now is rest and warmth,” she said firmly, as Biddy tried to get up.

  “There is another woman in the house besides myself and Miss Jill, who is coming today. Surely we can manage between the lot of us!”

  “Miss Jill?” Biddy’s sea-washed blue eyes widened with dismay. “Indeed, I almost forgot. What will Mr. Hugh say if I’m still in bed?”

  “Nothing to what I’ll say if you get up!” Sara retorted tartly, as she closed the door.