by Lucy Gillen
‘Aye well, if the spirit takes you this morning both you and the horse will benefit, I dare say.’
‘Neil ! ‘ He had started to move off, but he turned back when she called after him and fixed her with that steady and disconcerting gaze that she never seemed able to cope with very successfully. ‘I wondered if I might come with you this morning.’ She sounded vaguely breathless because her heart was thudding anxiously in case he said no. ‘Just for part of the way,’ she added hastily because he had not answered, and blue eyes between thick lashes had never looked so appealing. ‘I wouldn’t hinder you, would I?’
It was several seconds before he said anything, and he continued to look down at her from across the table. She had almost convinced herself that he was going to say he couldn’t wait for her to finish her breakfast, when he nodded and smiled. It was one of those rare smiles that lit up his whole face and gleamed warmly in his eyes, and her senses responded to it instinctively.
‘You probably will hinder me,’ he said frankly, ‘but please come just the same if you’ve a mind to.’ She felt lighthearted suddenly and made as if to leave the table
and join him, but he waved her back to her neglected meal. ‘Eat your breakfast first, there’s no need to go without your food.’
‘Are you sure you don’t mind waiting for me?’
He was still smiling, his lean face crinkled with amusement at her anxiety. ‘I’m sure—you finish your breakfast while I go and saddle the horses.’
It was less than ten minutes, in fact, before she went hurrying out through the back door of the house and across the cobbled yard to the stable. It was quite incredible how excited she could get simply at the prospect of riding with Neil again, and almost instinctively she glanced up at the sky.
It was clear and blue and there was no chance of them being caught in a storm as they had been the last time they rode out together. The sun was warm, but there was a light breeze that would probably become cooler as they got further out into more open country, but Melodic anticipated the ride with no less pleasure whatever the weather.
‘Ah! There you are.’ Neil came out of the stable leading the familiar chestnut gelding, and he helped her to mount before going back for his own horse. To Melodie’s surprise it wasn’t Black Knight he led out but the grey that John had once offered to saddle for her use, and Neil responded to her obvious curiosity with a faint smile. ‘Black Knight’s on the sick list this morning,’ he said.
‘He’s been hurt?’ She did not like to think of that magnificent creature being hurt, but Neil was shaking his head.
‘He has ‘flu.’
‘Oh, but that can be dangerous for horses, can’t it?’ ‘It can be.’ He noted her quick anxious glance in the
direction of the stable as he swung himself up on to the grey, and she thought he appreciated her anxiety. ‘McKenzie’s a good man with horses and you’ve no need to concern yourself with him, Melodie. Everything that can be done for him is being done. He has medicine that the vet left for him and he’s being kept warm, there’s not much else we can do for him.’
‘He’s so beautiful!’
Neil’s grey eyes were like bright steel in the tanned leanness of his face, but there was a hint of a smile on his mouth as he quizzed her. ‘Would you grieve for him less if he wasn’t so beautiful?’ he asked, and she looked at him reproachfully.
‘You know I didn’t mean that, Neill’
He did not reply, but her eyes followed him as he led the way out of the stable yard and on to the soft springiness of turf, and she tried to decide whether or not he was as matter-of-fact about Black Knight’s sickness as he seemed to be. Urging Rusty up alongside, she had the opportunity to study his face briefly before he turned to her and smiled, but she thought she saw the depth of his concern for his favourite horse in those few seconds.
‘I really am sorry about Black Knight, Neil.’
The words were barely out of her mouth before he leaned across and pressed one big brown hand over her two smaller ones. ‘Aye, I know you are,’ he said. ‘And so am I.’
He rode close beside her as they went down the hillside, a situation that was more easily achieved on the amenable grey than it would have been on his usual mount, and to Melodie there was a curious kind of satisfaction in their closeness. Neil was relaxed and his mood somehow communicated itself to her.
‘You see that slope over there?’ His voice brought her out of a pleasant state of dreaminess and she followed the direction of his pointing finger. ‘Where it looks dark green there, do you see?’
Melodie nodded. ‘It looks like little trees,’ she guessed, and he nodded.
‘It’s a scheme I have for using land that until now has been unproductive,’ he explained. ‘They’re young conifers—planted on the slopes they’ll be profitable timber in years to come.’
Melodie gazed across what seemed to be an immense distance at the veritable forest of young trees that clung to the mountainside. The extent of Ben Ross must be even greater than she had realised, and she looked at him curiously.
‘You own all that too?’
‘I do—and I mean to make it work for me!’
‘And those little houses I can see in the distance—are they on the estate too?’
‘There are three crofts and all have good tenants—sheep and cattle and a wee bit of cereal, though it isn’t very good land for growing much beside animals. The one you can see from here is where Donald Murdoch lives with his wife, the Stirling place you’ve visited and then over near Glen Bar are the McKenzies. All good tenants.’
‘And John says there are salmon in the river.’
She made the observation when she caught sight of the river in the distance, flowing like molten silver over its rocky bed, reminding her of the last time she had ridden out with Neil. He half turned his head and nodded agreement, and she wondered if he too was remembering that eventful ride.
‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘The river is another good
source of income for the estate—we’re very lucky it’s so well endowed.’
‘Salmon water is valuable, of course.’
‘Very much so, and it’s been built up over the years to a really profitable asset—the Ras is a wonderful stretch of water, and these days fishing rights are virtually priceless.’
‘You’re a very good businessman!’
The grey eyes looked at her for a moment as if he was unsure whether or not she meant the remark as a criticism. ‘Is that a virtue or a vice in your opinion, Melodie?’
‘Why—a virtue, I suppose.’ She laughed a little uneasily. ‘I’m notoriously incapable of even being able to handle a shopping expedition on my own without forgetting half the things I go for, so I can merely stand in awe of someone who is capable of handling an estate this size and making it pay.’
From the corner of her eye she could see the strong tanned arm and hand that held the rein nearest to her, and she was conscious suddenly of an aura of power about him, of pride in possession that made her tremble. He felt so strongly about Ben Ross that she wondered if he could ever feel deeply about a woman —she would surely have to be prepared to take second place, no matter who she was.
She almost cried aloud in surprise when once again a large strong hand engulfed her own two and squeezed them gently, and she looked up swiftly with wide eyes, to find herself once more the subject of that steady and disconcerting scrutiny.
‘Do you stand in awe of me, then, Melodie? Surely not ! ‘
‘I’m—never quite sure.’ She made the admission with
more frankness than she would normally have done because he had taken her by surprise. Briefly she scanned the lean tanned face, then looked down again at their hands, her own still enfolded in his, a small uncertain laugh shivering from her lips. ‘I never quite know what to make of you, Neil.’
The hand was withdrawn, and she felt curiously bereft without its hard· warm pressure. ‘I’m no great mystery,’ he said, in that qu
iet voice she was beginning to find ever more attractive. ‘Maybe one day you’ll realise that, hmm?’ Melodie said nothing, but glanced briefly up at him, meeting the warmth in his eyes with a sudden flutter in her heart beat. ‘In the meantime,’ Neil went on, ‘shall we ride down as far as the Ras?’
She nodded, urging Rusty along to match the increased speed of the grey. ‘The Ras?’ she asked, coming up beside him again. ‘That’s a curious name—does it mean something special?’
A faintly sardonic smile touched the firm mouth, but she thought he was nothing loth to explain the curious name to her and the subject was a far less disturbing one than her opinion of him could have proved. ‘It’s another Nordic name,’ he told her. ‘There are any number of them around here. It means swift course, and you’ll remember how appropriate that is in this case.’
She remembered the racing current and the deep grey of the water as it swirled around rocks and boulders in its path, and had to admit it was appropriate. But it was also beginning to dawn on her that there could be a connection between Neil’s knowledge of Nordic meanings and her occasional musings on the possibility of his being of the same origin, and she studied him for a second between thick lashes.
His lean strong features could well have belonged to one of the marauding Vikings who for centuries had plagued the Scots, and left their physical impression on the people they invaded along with relics of their culture. His fair hair, thick and silky, fell across half his broad brow, and his grey eyes in the tanned face had the keen, narrowed look of conquest as he rode over his long-coveted land, tall in the saddle and with a hint of ruthlessness in his pride.
The need to know more about him was more imperative than it had ever been, and she felt sure that to know him she had first to know more about his precious land. ‘Tell me about Ben Ross, Neil.’
Neil turned swiftly, his eyes narrowing slightly, as if he found her curiosity suspect. ‘Are you really interested?’ he asked, a slight twist of smile on his mouth. ‘I warn you it’s a subject on which I can wax eloquent, given the encouragement.’
‘Well, I’m very interested. For instance, why Ben Ross; has it to do with the fact that the Rosses used to own it?’
‘It has.’
She felt he was going to say more, but when he did not she pressed on. ‘It’s a huge place, isn’t it—judging by what I’ve seen of it.’
‘It’s pretty big,’ Neil allowed, but his smile left no doubt that it was an understatement. ‘It stretches from the edge of Glen Ross village in the east, right over as far as Glen Bar to the south, where the plantation is I showed you, and out to the big loch and Ben Midden, west and north.’
‘Ben Midden?’
She followed his pointing finger as he turned in the saddle. ‘The mountain over there.’
Its distance away surprised her, even though she now knew that in this kind of country distances could be deceptive. ‘But that looks miles away !’
‘About three,’ Neil agreed with a smile.
‘But its name!’ She thought she knew what the word meant, and Neil’s smile suggested she was right, but it hardly seemed suitable to the stately peak that soared majestically, green and purple against the pale summer sky. ‘I can’t believe I heard you right.’
‘It means dung heap, to be exact,’ he told her. ‘Our Nordic ancestors would appear to have had a taste more for frankness than beauty. The old Scandinavian word was modding, and it was probably called that originally.’
‘Well, it doesn’t seem very appropriate for a lovely view like that mountain But tell me more, Neil—Ben, for instance. Is that Nordic too, or is it Scottish?’
‘That’s from the Gaelic for mountain peak.’
He seemed so close suddenly, as if she had got close to the man behind that dour exterior at last. She heard herself laugh, a light and rather breathless little sound, and she kept Rusty close up beside the ambling grey.
‘And are you as much an expert on the Gaelic as you are on the old Nordic names, Neil?’
His eyes, moving slowly over her slightly flushed face, came to rest on her mouth and lingered there for several seconds. They seemed to have the gleam of steel in the tanned face, and Melodie felt a sudden more urgent beat to her heart. She had an almost irresistible desire to reach out and touch him, and she carefully avoided looking at him while he spoke.
‘I don’t claim to be an expert on either.’
‘But you seem to know so much about both that you
must have taken the trouble to find out. It isn’t the kind of thing you learn in school, is it?’
He rode along beside her silently for a moment or two, and she glanced at the lean features in stern profile against the background of hills and blue sky. ‘My mother gave me an interest in the Nordic names when I was quite small,’ he said, and Melodie turned swiftly, unable to control the impulsive movement.
In all the time she had known him it was the first time he had made any mention at all of his family, and she could not help feeling that it was of more moment than she could realise at present. Her desire to know more about him was as fervent as ever, but she was afraid of asking too many questions and making him wary of her interest.
He was not looking at her but straight ahead to where the gleaming waters of the Ras tumbled over the rocks with a crescendo of sound like a gathering storm. There was a certain excitement in the sound, as if it could stir up emotions like that last time they had ridden down here, and she wondered what thoughts were going on in Neil’s mind as he absently urged his horse on to a slightly faster pace.
‘She was Swedish.’ The, quiet, softly accented voice came to her slightly fainter because she had need to come up alongside again, and she put her heels to Rusty and brought him on. ‘She died when I was ten,’ Neil went on, almost as if he was unaware of anyone listening, ‘but I remember how she used to teach me the old names and show me how they were derived.’
The urge to reach out and touch him was even stronger, but somehow she resisted it, and she looked up at him with shadowed blue eyes. ‘You must have missed her terribly,’ she said. ‘You and your father.’
The way he glanced at her, so swiftly and suddenly, was not the reaction she expected and she held his gaze for a moment, not quite sure what she had said wrong. Then he nodded his head slowly, his face in profile again. ‘She was beautiful,’ he said, ‘everyone missed her—even my father!’ He put his heels to the grey suddenly and spoke over his shoulder as the animal surged forward. ‘Shall we put on a bit of speed, Melodie? I’ve a lot of ground to cover before lunch time!’
Melodie glanced once more at the clock on the mantel and frowned. She had long since finished her own dinner, but she had eaten it alone, and there was still no sign of Neil coming in for his. Jessie would be fretting over it, as she always did when things got out of the comfortable routine she was used to—the wonder was that she now seemed to have accepted Melodie herself as part of the daily routine and the fact could still surprise her when she thought about it.
It was not necessary for him still to be out there in the stable with Black Knight for the animal was much better and recovering fast, but Neil had a soft spot for the mettlesome creature that was his favourite mount, and he had probably not realised how late it was. Melodie looked at the clock again, then across at the door when it opened, somewhat surprised to see Jessie McKay.
`Mr Neil’s no in yet, then?’
Melodie shook her head. It was not necessary for Jessie to come and inquire, for she must know that Neil would let her know as soon as he came in for his dinner, so that Melodie suspected some other reason behind the inquiry. She thought she knew what it was
and she looked across at the housekeeper and smiled—she seemed so much more easy to read now that she was used to her.
‘He’s probably forgotten the time. I’d better go and tell him that his dinner’s spoiling,’ she suggested.
Jessie’s nod of satisfaction suggested that the offer was exactly what
she had had in mind. ‘It’ll come better from you, Miss Carne—you’ll not be charged with pestering him as I would if I chivvied him in for a meal.’
Getting up from her armchair, Melodie shook her head, pulling a face over the statement. ‘I wouldn’t bank on it—but I’ll go and tell him just the same, Mrs McKay.’
‘I’d be obliged.’
‘He’s sure to be still in the stable.’
‘Sure to be,’ Jessie complained. ‘He dotes on you black devil, and the beast is well nigh recovered by now too.’
‘He’s very much better,’ Melodie agreed, taking her jacket from a chair, ‘but he’s rather special, you know, and Neil’s bound to worry about him when he’s been so poorly.’
‘Aye well, that’s as maybe,’ Jessie allowed, ‘but somebody ‘ll need to worry about Mr Neil himself if he disnae eat when he should!’
They walked together across the hall to the rear of the house and it was instinctive for Melodie to glance across, as she so often did, at the huge portrait hanging on the stairs wall. It caught the light where it hung and for a moment the dark hair of the man in the picture was blotted out by a splash of yellow light that slashed across the brow just above the craggy face, and
Melodie stopped for a moment and stared, some fleeting familiarity catching her attention before it vanished just as quickly.
Jessie followed her gaze, drawn by her momentary pause. ‘Yon picture fascinates you, does it not?’ she asked, and Melodic shrugged, smiling a little uncertainly.
‘For a moment I thought—’ She shook her head, the fleeting impression no longer even remembered. ‘The light can play curious tricks, can’t it?’
Whether or not she knew what she meant, Melodie had no way of knowing, but Jessie McKay seemed ready enough to talk about the man, and she had never done that before. No one had mentioned the portrait except her friends in Australia—nearer home it seemed Duncan Ross was not a subject for discussion.
Jessie was glancing back over her shoulders at the painting as she spoke. ‘He was a braw man for all they say about him,’ she declared firmly, as if she expected someone to argue with her opinion. ‘He’d his faults, but he was a fine, braw man.’