Anna raised an eyebrow. “Really? Is that why most women in the glen spend part of their time chained to the kitchen sink and the rest balancing a baby on their hip as they Hoover and dust? Oh, and did I mention they are expected to help with lambing, and hay-making too?”
“Sarcasm does not become you young lady, even if you are right,” Morag chided gently. “What I meant to say is that a good man would never treat you the way Mark did. If he promised you the job, then he should have kept his word, especially if you were better qualified than this ‘cat-walk model’ you describe.”
Despite feeling a little embarrassed, Anna smiled. “I didn’t mean to be rude, Morag. I guess the wound is still a little raw, especially as I’ve given up my flat in Edinburgh too. You said Lachlan is away.”
“Aye, that’s right.” Morag chuckled, not hiding the fact that she loathed her husband working away on the oil rigs. “He’s only been gone a few days, and it feels more like a year. I’ve another three weeks and two days on my own before he comes home. The money is good, and if he keeps the job for another couple of years, we’ll be able to buy the farm he’s hankering after. I just hate him going, that’s all.”
“You’ll get used to him being away given time.”
Morag managed a tremulous smile. “There must be plenty more jobs out there for someone with your qualifications, If you stay at the croft all summer, how will you manage for money?”
“I’ve some savings, and the small legacy grandmother left me. I thought if I could get a part-time job, I’d have enough money to see me through the summer.”
Morag looked thoughtful. “Well, lass, there’s no denying we’re short-handed. The hotel is full to capacity. The mornings are so busy, what with cleaning, preparing lunch, not to mention answering the phone. There’s a fancy chef who comes in to prepare dinner, but Ewan likes to keep lunch a simple affair. He’s away to Inverness just now, otherwise I would ask him for you. I’m sure he’ll take you on to help out with the tourist season. The pay won’t be much, mind, just minimum wages, certainly nothing like you’re used to.”
“As long as it supplements my savings, is all that matters. I’ve an idea for a book. I’m giving myself the summer to write it. If I’m not offered a contract, I’ll find another teaching job. And if I can’t, then I suppose I could sell shoes in Jenners’ Edinburgh store until something more appropriate comes along.”
“A book, you say? What sort of book?”
“A novel. It’s a love story set in Scotland at the time of the Clearances.”
“That sounds interesting. I just hope you’re not planning on using me as a model for one of your characters.”
Two dimples appeared in Anna’s cheeks. “That’s not a bad idea. I must make a note of it. You mentioned there have been some changes on the estate.”
“Aye, and the tenants are none too happy about them, I can tell you. But as I’m about ready to serve lunch, why don’t you tell me about them this evening over that bottle of wine you’re going to buy me.”
“Okay. It’s about time I was going anyway. I’ll see you about seven-thirty.” Anna said, and turned to leave.
“That’s fine. I’ll see you then, and I’ll let you know what Ewan says about the job. He should be back before I go home. Bye just now.”
As Anna reached the lobby, the hotel doors swung open and she faced a large thickset man as he entered reception. His ice-coloured eyes were set close together in a pox marked face under a jutting brow. His coarse overgrown crew cut had the texture of horsehair. His colourless eyes narrowed as they met hers. His square jaw tensed, and he tightened his grip on his rifle case and small holdall.
“Excuse me,” she said, and stepped aside.
He said nothing in response, and stormed up to the desk. In gruff, halting English he asked Katrina, the receptionist, for tea and sandwiches to be sent up to his room. When his cell phone rang, he barked into it in a heavy language Anna couldn’t understand. Polish? Estonian? Certainly eastern European. Involuntarily, she put a hand to her throat. If ever there was a man who would strangle me in my sleep, this is the one.
She sped out of the hotel to the car park, wondering why he disturbed her so much, and hoping his stay would be a short one.
***
Luke phoned the boatyard, and then contemplated having a drink in the bar. He sure as hell needed one, but something told him not to keep the lady—no, strike that—ill-mannered hermit, waiting any longer than necessary.
As a successful artist, he was rarely without a companion, but lately he’d become tired and bored with the dating game. The women he escorted were smiling and all too eager to get in his pants. And his wallet. His work too, had become stale, and although his paintings sold well, he felt that each canvas was a mirror image of the last.
His solution came to him over a prolonged lunch in the Impudent Oyster with a beautiful bored Boston housewife. He realized he needed to get away. He’d returned home, and spent the rest of the week stocking the yacht with sufficient provisions for a month.
It was his own driving need for the unexpected that made him set sail with no firm destination in mind. Well, my boy, Luke muttered to himself, as he strode across the car park towards the waiting Land Rover, you certainly found the unexpected, and she has long legs and emerald-green eyes.
He found Anna leaning against the driver’s door. Casually, he rested his hand against the doorframe above her shoulder.
“The boatyard is ordering the part. It should be here later in the week, or the beginning of next. They also said something I didn’t understand, something about putting it on the mail van.”
“That’s correct. Provided your package is not too large, it will be delivered with the mail. It’s the same throughout the Highlands. It’s more convenient, and the easiest option for people who live in remote areas.”
“That’s fine, except how on earth is the mailman going to deliver it when Sandpiper is moored in the middle of the loch?”
“He’ll leave any parcels here at reception along with my mail.”
“Oh yeah? And then what? I walk the twelve miles down the glen every day to see if he has?”
“No, you knock on my door and ask me nicely to collect it for you.”
“Great,” Luke replied, shooting her a twisted smile. The prospect of having to rely on this prickly female didn’t inspire him with overwhelming confidence. “And what do you suggest I do in the meantime?”
“Look around you, sailor-boy. This land may appear barren and inhospitable, but it is breathtakingly beautiful, not to mention a walker and naturalist’s paradise. Go for a hike, or take a swim in the loch, although I should warn you, the water’s pretty cold, even in summer. If you had sailed west, you could have moored somewhere more civilized, like Portree Harbour on Skye. Instead, you chose to drop anchor in one of the remotest and most inaccessible lochs in Scotland. Oh, and did I mention, it’s also one of the deepest?”
“Okay. I’ll admit it; I should have paid more attention to the chart.” Luke took a step closer, until his face was only inches from hers. “The sooner you get back in that heap of junk you laughingly call a vehicle, the sooner I…”
Two black and white heads snarled at him through the driver’s window.
Anna sidestepped him. “Before you what? Get bitten?”
Luke yanked open the driver’s door. Anna took the hint, but the look she gave him as she climbed aboard would have made most animals curl up and die.
“Good dogs,” she patted the two dogs, and then nudged them aside. “Go on, in the back.” She turned to Luke. “Are you getting in or planning on standing there all day?”
Luke closed the door and strode round to the passenger side.
The air in the confined space positively crackled with tension as they drove back to the croft. Luke wondered just what he’d got himself into. Anna might be beautiful, but she was as unpredictable as a summer storm blowing in off the ocean. He shifted in his seat, felt the warm b
reath from one of the dogs on the back of his neck, and froze.
Anna looked in the rear-view mirror. “Ensay, no!”
The dog backed up, and lay down on the seat next to its companion. Luke glanced over his shoulder and slowly let the air out of his lungs.
“Thanks for calling him off.”
“Her. They’re bitches.”
“That figures.”
“The dogs aren’t normally aggressive to people who appear friendly. Let that be a warning to you. They are trained to protect and will attack if they think I’m in danger.”
“Yeah, that’s pretty evident. Hey, I’m sorry. I just met you and you’re doing me this huge favour. I should be appreciative, but we seem to be at each other’s throats. Why?”
When she didn’t answer, he turned and studied her. Wild Titian curls framed her delicate, slightly tanned oval face. Her green eyes were peppered with tiny flecks of gold. Her fingers, he noted, where long and slender, and devoid of polish and rings.
The check work-shirt she wore casually tucked into her black denim jeans was open at the neck, and when she shifted in her seat, he caught a glimpse of creamy skin and black lace. Despite her antagonism, Luke found himself strongly attracted to her.
He turned away and stared out of the window. A bank of clouds covered the mountaintops. In the distance, the dark waters of the loch were still and glistening.
Anna couldn’t stand the silence any more. “Are you staying on the boat or will you move into the hotel?”
“I’ll stay on Sandpiper. Until I get the pump on the autopilot fixed, I can’t think about returning to Cape Cod. I’ve got plenty of food on board. The generator’s working, so I have power for heat and hot water. I’ll get by. If I get bored, I can always take your advice and go for a hike.”
“Well, if you do, make sure you wear sensible shoes and take a waterproof jacket.” Anna briefly transferred her gaze from the road to Luke, only to find him watching her. He had the most intense brown eyes and every time his gaze met hers, her heart turned over in response. Not for the first time since meeting him, did she feel herself blushing.
“The weather can change suddenly,” she continued, “and people have been known to get lost or disorientated, even in summer. The nearest mountain rescue team is fifty miles away. If you’re planning on exploring, let me know, I’ll lend you a map.”
Luke turned his smile up a notch. “Thanks, I’d appreciate that. After being on-board for the last three weeks, it’ll be good to get my land legs back.” The old Land Rover jerked to a halt. “I know I’ve been an idiot. I’m sorry. And thanks for the lift. Maybe you’ll let me buy you a drink sometime to make up for me being so stupid?”
Anna shook her head. “There’s no need. Besides, I don’t drink with men I don’t know.”
“We could get to know each other first.”
She rubbed her forehead. “If you need anything from the village or want a lift that far, just come and ask.”
He climbed out of the Land Rover and waited for Anna and the dogs.
***
From his vantage point high on the hill behind the croft, a man lifted a pair of binoculars to his eyes and studied the scene below. Two people, not one, as he’d anticipated, emerged from the vehicle. He focused on the figures, and wondered what they were talking about. He didn’t need the binoculars to see that the smaller of the two was the MacDonald woman. Even from this distance, the flaming red hair was a dead giveaway. The other figure faced away from him, and although he couldn’t be sure, he thought it was a man.
The woman remained at the croft, while the second figure strode across the grass and climbed into a small inflatable dinghy. They inserted the oars in the rowlocks, and pushed off. He inhaled sharply as he caught a glimpse of the face. It was unmistakably male. Damn it! Well, whoever he was, he wasn’t from the glen, that much was for sure. None of the inhabitants were rich enough to own a boat like that.
He threw the binoculars to the ground in disgust, hastily snatching them up again as the man rowed steadily towards the sleek yacht. With any luck, it would be gone by morning, but he somehow doubted it.
The woman should have been alone. He’d been watching her ever since she’d arrived at the croft, and her routine hardly ever varied. He swore heartily. Another afternoon spent lying in the heather and what had he got to show for it? Nothing, absolutely nothing!
He pulled off his deerstalker and scratched his bald head. He wasn’t happy about the sudden appearance of the man with the yacht. He picked up his shotgun, slung the binoculars round his neck and slithered backwards over the heather. Once out of sight of the croft, and using some gorse bushes for cover, he began walking slowly downhill to where he’d parked his pickup.
Chapter Three
Morag’s cottage was the last in a row of twenty, single-storey, brightly painted, stone cottages that bordered the only road through the village. It was small and comfortable, and Anna couldn’t envisage Morag living anywhere else, yet she knew that if Lachlan got his way, Morag would move to Perthshire, many miles away. The very idea her friend would one day be gone from this wild and magical place saddened her. Consciously tucking the thought away, she swirled a glass of red wine and watched the flames lick around the logs in the grate.
“Have you made a start on your book yet?” Morag asked, breaking the silence with her soft Highland burr.
“I’ve done all the research and had planned to write the opening chapter this afternoon, but I got distracted. I’ve decided to be disciplined and set time aside each day to work on it. But tell me, what’s been happening in the glen while I’ve been away?”
“The Laird has moved to London. You know he owns a house there, too. He’s now a full-time absentee landlord, and I don’t need to tell you how the Scots feel about them!”
“But I thought he came for the fishing and shooting seasons, and then again for Christmas and New Year.”
A frown settled on Morag’s brow. “It would seem that the poor man has Alzheimer’s. Can’t even remember his name or how to tie his bootlaces, or so we’ve been told. Rumour has it he’s living in a nursing home. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sorry for the Laird, it must be a terrible affliction, but the changes have us all worried. The big house has been closed up since the ghillies’ ball last autumn. His daughter has no involvement in the estate, not since her marriage to some big hotshot banker. She lives in Hong Kong now, and has no intention of returning. As for Mr. Alistair, the son and heir, he’s just a playboy with his fancy cars and expensive boats. He spends all his time in the South of France squandering the profits from the estate. He wants nothing to do with its daily running. You mark my words, when the old Laird dies it will be sold off to fund the son’s expensive habits.”
“So who’s managing the estate now? What will become of the tenants if it’s sold?”
“There’s a new ghillie, or should I say factor. Ugly little weasel of a man who struts about as if he owns the place. He’d have us all doffing our caps to him, given half a chance. I can’t stand the man. He’s always sneaking around, turning up in places you least expect. I wouldn’t trust him to cook a kipper, let alone manage ninety thousand acres. I have a feeling on me that he’s up to no good.”
Anna wanted to chuckle but fought the urge. Something in her friend’s expression warned her that the situation was anything but amusing. Besides, Morag’s feelings were famous throughout the glen, and were taken seriously by the villagers. Like many Highlanders, Morag believed in the gift of Dha Shealladh, the second sight, which passed from generation to generation. Her great-grandmother had been known as a taibhsear, or seer, and Morag had inherited the gift, if it could be called that, from her.
Anna remained sceptical, but was forced to admit that Morag’s uncanny premonitions often forewarned of some unpleasant event.
“What happened to Sandy? I drove past his cottage, but it looked empty. I was so looking forward to seeing him again.”
Morag’s express
ion grew hard and resentful. “Oh, it was such a terrible thing. Within a fortnight of the factor’s arrival, Sandy had handed in his notice. One day he was here, the next he’d disappeared. He’s worked on the estate for nigh on thirty-five years, ever since he left school. He’s given good service to the Laird and his family. No one knows the hill and the estate better than he does. He not only deserves to be head ghillie, he’s earned the right.”
Anna reached for the bottle of wine and poured Morag another glass.
“Where is he now? Does anyone know?”
“Well, Anna, there’s the mystery. Everyone assumed he had gone to his daughter’s farm in the Borders. Lachlan telephoned Aileen, but she hadn’t heard from him. In fact, she didn’t even know her father had left his job. That really upset me. She obviously doesn’t speak to him very often. I don’t know what the world’s coming to when a man’s own daughter can’t be bothered to keep in touch. It’s wrong, I tell you. Anyhow, before he left for the rig, Lachlan went to the cattle market in Fort William, just in case Sandy had been seen there. He asked around, but no one had set eyes on him. I’m worried for the man. He has so many friends here in the glen, it’s unlike him to go off and not say a word to anyone.”
Anna stared into the fire. The old man had been like an uncle to her. She hated to think of him being treated badly. When she spoke her voice was tinged with sadness.
“But surely someone must have seen him leave? I don’t remember; did he own a car? And what of his dogs? Did he take them with him?”
“Sandy didn’t have a car of his own. He drove one of the estate vehicles, and on the day he vanished, it was found outside the factor’s house with the keys in the ignition. As for the dogs, who knows, lass? They’re a fine pair of working collies, and valuable too. It saddens me to think anything untoward has befallen them or their master. If Sandy hasn’t gone to his daughter’s, I can’t see what use he’d have for two sheepdogs. Can you?”
The House on the Shore Page 3