by Lucy Gillen
From the way his mouth tightened it was clear just how much he disliked the arrangement, and Melodie looked again down at the loch rather than at him. ‘Damn it! ‘ He swore softly and, although she was in part prepared for it, his vehemence startled her and she turned hastily, her eyes questioning.
‘I’m very comfortable,’ she said, ‘and Mrs McKay is being very amiable on the whole.’
‘I can imagine!’
His reaction irritated her without her being quite sure why. She had very little choice in the matter of staying where she was and his determined disapproval seemed to serve no useful purpose except to annoy her. ‘They’ve been very good to me, John; I don’t know what I’d have done without their help, and especially without Neil getting me out of the cottage as he did. I hadn’t even a stitch of clothing except the nightdress I was wearing.’
John raised a brow and looked at the rose pink cotton dress she was wearing. ‘Oh, hadn’t you?’
‘Not a thing!’ She spoke sharply because he seemed bent on making things appear suspect as far as her rescue was concerned, and he had no cause to behave the way he was. ‘I had to stay in bed on Saturday morning—yesterday, until Neil could borrow something for
me from a girl who lives on the estate.’
Swiftly and briefly John’s eyes scanned up and down her shape and he laughed shortly. `Kirstie McKenzie?’ he guessed, and Melodie frowned at him curiously.
‘How did you guess that?’
‘Easy.’ He shrugged carelessly. ‘She’s the only female on the estate who could provide you with something to fit.’
‘You know her too, then?’
‘Sure, though not as well as McDowell does!’ His words and his voice were obviously meant to convey something that Melodie knew was not true, although similar ideas had passed through her own mind until she learned of Kirstie McKenzie’s youth. ‘He made a beeline for her place when you wanted something to wear, didn’t he?’
Melodie frowned, following the implication all too easily, and disliking it. If John knew the girl as he claimed, then he must know how young she was, and the implication he was making concerning Neil was unworthy of him.
‘For the reason you said,’ Melodie insisted firmly. ‘Jessie McKay told him that she was about my size and Neil went over to see her! ‘ She tilted back her head and looked at him with a hint of defiance in her expression. ‘And if you know Kirstie McKenzie as you claim to, John, you must know she’s only sixteen. I’m quite sure Neil isn’t the kind of man to have—that sort of relationship with a girl twenty years his junior. A—a schoolgirl!’
‘You must be twelve or thirteen years his junior,’ John retorted, stung by her criticism, ‘and it doesn’t stop him looking at you the way he does!’
Once before when he had made that same charge, she
had not even bothered to deny it, now she did so with less conviction than she hoped. ‘He doesn’t look at me in any special way—you’re imagining things, John!’
John’s frown did not lessen, but he took her hands in his and turned her round to face him as she sat curled up on the cool turf. His brown eyes were uncharacteristically hard and angry and so was his voice, so that she wondered what jumble of emotions disturbed him as he held her tightly.
`Melodic, can’t you move out of there? Do you have to stay in that damned great barn of a place?’
It would never do to admit that she did not want to move out of Ben Ross; she did not yet dare admit it to herself, and she sought some way of answering him so that John would not guess how she really felt about it. Suddenly restless, she scrambled to her feet and John was beside her in a moment, walking beside her as she started down the slope towards the glen. Her hands were swinging, and he caught the one nearest to him and held it tightly in his.
‘I don’t see how I can move out,’ she told him, choosing her words carefully, ‘unless I go away altogether. There are no hotels nearer than Carrie.’
‘I wasn’t thinking about a hotel.’
His meaning was clear, of course, Neil had mentioned the idea when she spoke of alternative arrangements herself, but there simply was not room in his uncle’s tiny cottage for another visitor. Nor had she the desire to live in such cramped quarters when the vastness of Ben Ross was available to her.
‘There’s nowhere else for me to go,’ she told John. ‘And it seems stupid not to take advantage of Neil’s offer.’
‘I’m more concerned with his taking advantage of
you!’ John retorted sharply. ‘Aunt Marie could find room for you, I’m sure.’
‘I’m sure she couldn’t,’ Melodie declared firmly. ‘The croft is far too small, John, and there’s barely enough room for the three of you as it is.’
‘Besides which you like the idea of living at Ben Ross,’ John suggested with unmistakable meaning. ‘O.K., Melodie, I get the point!’
‘I don’t think you do.’ She eased her hand from his and walked faster, getting a short distance ahead of him until he realised and hastened to catch up. ‘My choice is limited, John. Either I stay on at Ben Ross or I have to go right away, and I’m not ready to give up the rest of my stay simply because you have some bee in your bonnet about Neil McDowell!’
Melodie had seen that hint of sulkiness before, after Neil had brought her back from their ride on the back of his horse, and she saw it now in the set of his mouth and the dark, glowering look in his eyes. ‘You’re darned right I don’t like you being there,’ he agreed. Bending suddenly, he tugged a sprig of heather from its root and twirled it between restless fingers. ‘I’m not sure I trust McDowell the way I used to, he’s—different from what I thought he was at one time.’
‘Different?’ Her puzzlement was genuine and she looked at him curiously, but John was nodding as if he was quite convinced. ‘How different, John?’
He glanced sideways at her without turning his head. ‘I didn’t have him figured for a Casanova, now I’m not so sure.’
Her own responses to Neil were still too fresh in her mind to allow her to deny the term as adamantly as she might once have done, but she shook her head for all that because she had only her own experience to
guide her opinion. ‘I don’t think you have any call to say Neil is a—a Casanova,’ she denied, and John laughed shortly.
‘Oh, I grant you he’s quiet,’ he allowed, ‘but still waters run deep, and there’s that affair that Uncle Jamie mentioned. Maybe that guy is deeper than I figured!’
It startled her to be reminded of Neil’s self-admitted love for Catriona Holland, but she could not bring herself to say anything of it to John, so she said nothing. According to Neil he was not now even sure if he had loved his then employer, and Melodie preferred to think he had not—though she hesitated to admit as much even to herself.
‘I wish you were anywhere but under his roof,’ John declared, still far too angry. ‘I don’t trust him!’
‘It doesn’t really matter whether or not you trust him, does it, John?’ It was a gentle reminder, but she knew it had had its effect when she saw his face darken and he brought them to a halt, turning her to face him.
His hands pressed hard into her shoulders and his eyes scanned her face for a moment before he spoke. ‘Maybe not,’ he admitted after a few seconds of silence, but the admission was made reluctantly. ‘I kind of hoped I had the right to object to you moving in with him, but I guess I’m getting ahead of things. The fact is you’re getting to mean a whole lot too much to me for me to simply sit back and accept the idea of McDowell taking you under his wing—I can’t just say nothing, Melodie.’
It shouldn’t have been so unexpected, she told herself, but lately Neil had occupied her thoughts to such an extent that she had given less thought to John than she probably should have done. It was incredibly hard
to know what to say to him, for she was not insensitive to the compliment he paid her, but she simply did not know what to do next.
`Melodic!’ His hands gripped her shoulders f
irmly and she could not have turned away even had she had the inclination to. His head was bent and his voice pitched lower than it usually was, slightly unsteady too and oddly touching. ‘You know I love you, don’t you?’
Melodic did not move for the moment, but stood with her head bowed, looking at the open neck of his shirt and noting absently that he looked far more schoolboyish than she had noticed before. Her heart was beating with a faster beat than usual, aroused by the kind of excitement such a situation was bound to kindle, and she wished she had anticipated this moment before she came with him.
‘I—I’m flattered, John, I really am.’
His brown eyes sought hard to make her look at him, but she kept her lashes lowered and preferred not to be influenced by them. ‘I told you I was likely to fall in love with you, didn’t I?’ he reminded her. ‘I’m quite serious about it, Melodie’
‘Oh, John, I know you are!’ She looked up at last, and found the brown eyes even harder to meet than she anticipated. ‘I—I wish I could say—I mean, I can’t say that I feel the same way, John. I wish I could! ‘
‘I wish you could! ‘
He looked so earnest that it was impossible not to
be touched, but she wished he hadn’t spoken as he had, for it made it so much more difficult for her to decide to stay as she had planned. If John was as much in earnest as he said, then it was going to make matters worse that she was no longer able to see him as often as he was used to.
It was instinct that made her turn her head suddenly and look back the way they had come, and her heart thudded urgently at the sight of a tall familiar figure on the black horse, his fair head as unmistakable as the way he rode.
Sensing her distraction, John turned as well and
she saw the swift frown that drew his brows when he
recognised Neil. ‘Arrogant devil he is!’ he declared in a hard flat voice. ‘I never realised it so much before.’
‘You liked him before.’ The words were out before she stopped to think, and John was looking at her almost as if he suspected criticism.
‘I guess I did,’ he admitted, once more watching Neil on the notorious Black Knight riding off down towards the river. Then he looked down at Melodie again and his eyes scanned her face in silence for a moment. ‘Now I guess I’m jealous of him because he has you under his roof for the next month,’ he told her. ‘I can’t pretend to like it, Melodie.’ He took her hands in his and after a second or two raised them to his lips and kissed her fingers. ‘I want to marry you,’ he said, his voice barely above a whisper, ‘and McDowell or no, I shall ask you a hundred times if necessary, as long as I think there’s the faintest chance that you’ll say you will.’
‘John
He silenced her with a light kiss on her mouth, and smiled down at her ruefully. ‘At least give me the chance to live in hope,’ he said. ‘Will you do that for me, Melodie?’
If only she had not known that Neil was there somewhere on the hill that sloped down behind them, still within hailing distance if she should call to him, she could have given her whole mind to John, and she
looked at him with wide and slightly dazed eyes while he pleaded with her.
`Melodie?’ He kissed her again and this time with more fervour so that she was momentarily swept along with his mood and responded without quite realising she was doing so. ‘Well, at least you haven’t sent me away,’ he said with a curiously nervous little laugh. `That gives me a little encouragement!’
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE warmth of the sun on her face when she woke made Melodie smile even before she opened her eyes, and she stretched her arms above her head lazily, revelling in the comfort of the big old-fashioned bed for a moment before she woke herself properly. It seemed hardly credible that it was little more than a week since the cottage had burned down and she had moved into Ben Ross.
The big bedroom already seemed comfortingly familiar and it was certainly a great deal more luxurious. than the one she had in the cottage. Its dark-panelled walls gleamed richly in the morning sunlight and the high windows allowed in lots more light than the tiny dormer windows of the cottage had. Jessie McKay had replaced the original heavy red curtains with fresh, lighter ones, though whether on her own initiative or at Neil’s instigation Melodie couldn’t be sure, but they gave the room a more cheerful look.
A glance at the bedside clock showed that it was quite early, and yet she felt the need to be up and
doing. Outside, in the ivy that covered most of the face, of the old house, sparrows were cheeping persistently, and from further away above the glen, she could hear the plaintive cries of curlews and lapwings on the morning flight for food.
Suddenly active, she got out of bed and walked over to the window, looking out across the countryside at the scene that never failed to enchant her, especially seen as now from the lofty dominance of Ben Ross. Perhaps she would ride this morning; the view from her window encouraged the idea, and maybe, if she was in time, she could go at least part way with Neil when he went on his daily round.
Having made up her mind, it was the thought of his possibly setting off before she was ready that sent her hurrying through the process of bathing and dressing, and she was so much earlier than her usual time that she caught Jessie McKay unprepared when she peeped round the kitchen door before going to join Neil in the breakfast-room.
‘Och, you’ll be in a rare hurry this morning,’ the housekeeper declared with far less rancour than she would have shown little more than a week before, in the same situation. ‘You bide with Mr McDowell in the breakfast-room, Miss Carne, and I’ll have your breakfast for you in just a wee while.’
Melodie glanced across the kitchen at the seldom used serving hatch and lowered her voice slightly. ‘I’m hoping to go out when Mr McDowell does,’ she confided, `so don’t make it too big a meal, will you, Mrs McKay?’
‘He’d not like you going without your breakfast,’ Jessie stated firmly. ‘He’ll wait if you tell him you’re going with him.’
Still unsure whether or not he would, Melodie gave a light shrug and disappeared. Next door in the breakfast-room Neil showed much the same reaction to her early appearance. He looked pointedly at his wristwatch before he even answered her greeting, and his grey eyes showed laughter as he looked across the table at her.
‘Could you not sleep?’ he asked, and Melodie pursed her lips in reproach.
‘I slept perfectly, as always,’ she told him. ‘I just felt like getting up early this morning—you don’t mind if I join you, do you, Neil?’
‘Not at all, as long as you don’t mind me getting on with my own breakfast while you wait for yours.’ He noted the blue jeans and a cotton shirt she wore and raised a brow. ‘You look ready for action,’ he suggested. ‘Are you anxious to get started?’
He was finishing his meal already, she noted, and hoped that Jessie wasn’t going to be too long with her breakfast or she couldn’t reasonably expect him to wait for her. ‘I felt like riding this morning, so I’m giving, the painting a miss, for an hour or two anyway.’
She had been hoping to hear him say she was welcome to join him and she was disappointed when he said nothing at all about it, but merely looked surprised at her reason for being early. ‘You’re usually very diligent about working during the week,’ he observed. ‘Is my painting giving you some trouble—is it maybe not going as well as you hoped?’
‘Oh no, on the contrary, it isn’t going badly at all, I’ve got on better than I expected. I just felt ‘ She shrugged vaguely, watching Jessie as she came in with her breakfast. ‘I just felt like riding instead this morning, that’s all.’
Jessie McKay set the meal in front of her and briefly the sharp brown eyes held her gaze, questioning her reticence and wondering at it probably. ‘Since you’re in a hurry to be away,’ she told her, ‘I did you only one piece of bacon with your egg, though a good meal in the morning is necessary, to my mind.’
`Yes, Mrs McKay, thank you.’
‘No, thank you, there’s plenty here.’
The shrewd brown eyes flicked briefly in the direction of her employer and Jessie folded her hands over her stomach in that now familiar gesture of disapproval. ‘Aye, well,’ she allowed, ‘you’ll know your own mind best, I dare say.’
Neil seemed to find the byplay mildly amusing and he looked at Melodie in obvious curiosity as he sipped his tea. ‘Are you not eating properly, Melodie?’
He asked the question of her, but he looked at Jessie for the answer and Jessie was nothing loth to provide a reason for her lack of appetite. Melodie, however, preferred to make her own request and she frowned up at Jessie discouragingly.
`I’m having a breakfast and that’s all that matters, isn’t it? I just don’t want—I mean, I happen to be in something of a hurry this morning, that’s all, there’s really nothing to make an issue about.’
He looked again at Jessie, but the housekeeper shrugged her plump shoulders and reached for his empty plate. ‘I’ll not make an issue, Miss Carne,’ she assured her, and Melodie found it hard to believe the glimpse of a smile that briefly softened the austere features. ‘You’ll be capable of doing things for yourself, I’ll warrant ! ‘
Neil watched the housekeeper leave the room, then
looked at Melodie and half smiled. ‘I do believe Jessie approves of you,’ he told her. Giving her no time to say anything, he put down his empty cup and looked at his watch. ‘I hope you won’t mind having your breakfast on your own after all—it’s time I started out.’ Getting up from the table, he stood for a moment with his hands resting on the back of his chair while he looked across at her. ‘I’m glad you’re going to give Rusty an outing, he can do with the exercise. You’ve not ridden much since you’ve been here, Melodie.’
‘Not very much,’ she admitted. ‘I just don’t seem to have got around to it very often, but I thought—’