The Man at the Helm

THE MAN AT THE HELM Henrietta Reid

Elizabeth was determined to enjoy her holiday in the Highlands and looked forward to meeting new people during her stay. But the arrogant Kerr Carmichael, she decided after their first encounter, was not a person that she wished to know better. How, then, could she explain her growing involvement with him?

CHAPTER ONE SLOWLY Elizabeth Jones walked up the short flight of stairs leading to the Rob Roy Hotel; slowly she traversed the foyer with its thick-piled, rather old- fashioned, red-and-white patterned carpet. May Mackenzie, trim, attractive and thirtyish, gave her a friendly wave from the reception desk. 'Out for your daily walk, Miss Jones!' she called. It sounded so dismal and middle-aged, so in keeping with the habits of most of the Rob Roy's clientele, Elizabeth thought gloomily, suddenly conscious of how reluctantly her footsteps dragged across the foyer. But she forced herself to answer brightly, 'Yes, I simply love walking; the scenery is so wonderful.' But May Mackenzie was not deceived. She leaned her folded arms on the counter, her eyes bright and speculative. 'Kirkloch is famous for its scenery all right,' she replied judiciously, 'but it's better taken in small doses. Personally I'd prefer a few handsome men—and I expect you would too. The crowd here at the moment is a bit elderly for you. What made you choose us in the first place ?' Although May was Elizabeth's senior by about ten years, they had gradually become friendly, friendly enough for May to say, 'Of course the Rob Roy is very comfortable—luxurious in fact, in a quiet sort of way, still, I should have thought that something rather brighter and gayer would have suited you.' 'Actually it was my father's idea,' Elizabeth confessed. 'It was he who booked me in here. You see, he promised me a holiday when I had completed my course in domestic economy. Actually I wanted to go to Spain; there was a young group going out for

Easter and I had arranged to join them, but Daddy had his heart set on my seeing something of the Highlands. He comes from Inverness-shire himself and he often used to tell me of the beauty of the scenery, so naturally he thought it would be a good idea if I came here.' May Mackenzie nodded. 'And you couldn't disappoint him, especially when he's paying for you. But what a pity you couldn't have come in summer! We have a more mixed crowd then—plenty of young people and more life about the place, but at this time it's mostly wealthy, retired people, taking an early break in a hotel they know they'll get every comfort, with just that personal touch they expect. Naturally a young girl like you wouldn't have much in common with them. But you must admit,' she concluded with a mischievous grin, 'that it has forced you to do a lot of walking since you came.' Elizabeth nodded ruefully. 'To tell you the truth, I'm beginning to grow tired of being idle; as soon as I go home again, I'll look around for a job. In a way it will be a relief to start work.' 'Well, sorry the Rob Roy didn't put on a better show,' May said sympathetically. 'It must have been a terrible disappointment to you. Although at your age it doesn't matter so much. You'll have plenty of opportunities to meet interesting men! But tea's being served in the lounge now. I'll have Robert bring you in a nice pot of tea and some toasted potato scones. Or would you prefer bannocks ? They're considered rather a speciality here.' 'Actually I'm not very keen on them,' Elizabeth had to admit, and tactfully refrained from adding that, to her, they tasted like slabs of uncooked oatmeal.

May laughed. 'No, they're not everyone's cup of tea. Tell you what, I'll have Robert bring in some of ye goode olde English toasted muffins.' Elizabeth went into the lounge. Already people were seated at the daintily laid tables, but they all appeared to be wrapped in their own affairs and Elizabeth felt a sense of isolation as she took her place at her favourite table overlooking the loch. The powderyblue water winked and sparkled in the spring sunshine and on the window-ledge stood bowls of giant scented hyacinths and dwarf tulips and daffodils. She slipped off her thin woollen coat of mustard yellow before sitting down, thinking rather wistfully that there had really been no need to bother about clothes before setting out on this holiday, for no one seemed to be the smallest bit interested in her appearance. To think that she had spent her savings on having everything as up-to-date and elegant as possible, carefully packed in the chic luggage she had bought especially for her first really independent holiday, now that she was fully qualified and about to launch out into life on her own. To think that she had visualised herself dancing, boating, walking and hill-climbing in the company of some interesting and handsome man! But then at that time she had had no idea of what the very exclusiveness of the Rob Ray had meant! It was the haunt of wealthy, ultra-respectable people who had already found their niche in life and intended to cling firmly to it. The women wore conservatively styled fur coats and expensive shoes and handbags and the gentlemen, in tweeds, spoke of fishing and shooting and of the Highland games; things she knew nothing about and, for that matter, took no interest in. They were all pleasant to her, in a slightly absentminded way, but she found that though she launched into conversation optimistically enough, it soon petered out for

want of a common ground, so that, as the days passed, she had become increasingly conscious that she was a misfit in this company. Tea, for her, was simply a means of killing time, but it was soon over, then the question arose how to spend the rest of the evening. She could, of course, follow the others into the TV lounge, but the prospect didn't attract her; she had spent far too many hours in that way. She could go out for another walk, perhaps; the evenings were bright, but she knew that early it could become sharp and the air chill and frosty. Suddenly she felt conspicuous, sitting there, isolated at her table. She would write home, she decided. It would give her something to do and help to fill in the hours until dinner-time. She opened the black patent leather shoulder bag which had been horribly expensive, but was immensely elegant, and took from it her zipped suede writing-case, a gift from her father with her initials in gold in the corner. She began her letter home with a little word picture of Kirkloch in the spring, taking care to sound as cheerful as possible. Not for worlds would she let him know that the holiday which had cost him so much was, as far as she was concerned, a dire failure. Quoting frequently from the guide-book she had bought at the reception desk, she concentrated on the beauty of the scenery and the interesting walks and Kirkloch's historic associations with Montrose and Bonnie Prince Charlie, details which she knew would be of particular interest to her father. But she was careful that not a hint of how bored she was should insidiously creep through her words.. Towards the end of her letter, however, she could not resist saying, 'This break has done me lots of good, and I'm looking forward to

coming home and finding a job. I do feel it's my turn to earn something for a change.' She was absorbed in writing, unconsciously reverting to the position that had been habitual with her as a schoolgirl when, engrossed in her work, the toe of her right foot curved around her left ankle, her tongue showing in concentration. As usual, she soon got pins-and-needles in her foot and unthinkingly stretched out her leg to bring it back to life. As she did so, a heavy object brushed against her leg; there was a crash and an exclamation, as the table spun across the floor, knocking her writing-pad from beneath her hand. Then a voice said, 'Sorry for rudely interrupting you when you're so busy writing to your boy-friend, but you really should refrain from tripping up innocent passers-by.' Elizabeth found herself looking up into a pair of brilliant aquamarine blue eyes. She regarded the man in surprise. He was somehow not the sort of apparition one expected in the conservative lounge of the Rob Roy. The face and figure were startlingly handsome in a burly, rakish sort of way; he had a mop of bronze hair falling in thick locks on a broad, brown forehead, and was dressed in a fisherman's jersey and cap, and wore wading boots. He appeared, however, to be completely unconscious of the incongruous appearance he presented in such surroundings, as he retrieved her writing-pad and pen. It was then she became aware that they were now the focus of the concentrated interest of everyone in the room. As though reading her thoughts he grinned at her, showing strong white teeth. 'Don't tell me! I know I'm behaving like a bull in the china shop. Potted palms and tea-drinking have never been my cup

of tea, if you know what I mean. It just happens that I'm on my way to the bar. I don't usually take this route in search of refreshment, but it's just as well I did, otherwise I shouldn't have tripped over your foot and discovered there's such an attractive girl staying at this respectably dull hotel. In a way it's a sort of introduction, isn't it ?' The aquamarine blue eyes surveyed her coolly from the top of her shining brown hair to the tip of her new shoes. Elizabeth felt herself flush at his effrontery. 'You may consider it an introduction, but I don't,' she said severely. He pulled over a basket-chair and lounged back in it comfortably. 'No ? So you don't consider us properly introduced ?' he remarked thoughtfully. 'Well, suppose I tell you that I'm Kerr Carmichael and that I'm pretty well known around these parts, will that satisfy your conventional little mind ?' Elizabeth bit her lip at his open mockery. But she was determined not to succumb to the intent regard of those incredibly blue eyes. 'I'm afraid that doesn't mean anything to me,' she replied coldly. 'Does it not ? Well, look around! As you can see, I'm not completely unknown, even in the highly respectable Rob Roy.' Cautiously Elizabeth gazed about: she was being surveyed by those at the other small tables with an amused interest, and she was instantly aware that they were indulgently watching for her reaction to the unorthodox approach of her disturbing companion. 'As you can see,' Kerr Carmichael remarked, with what Elizabeth considered an insufferable air of self- satisfaction, 'no one here is expressing alarm or shock at my admittedly uncouth appearance— with the exception of yourself, that is! But naturally you're

somewhat annoyed at being interrupted while writing to your boyfriend.' He glanced with bright-eyed interest in the direction of her writing-pad. Elizabeth snatched it up and replaced it in her handbag. 'I'll bet he's someone frightfully important; naturally he's wealthy, otherwise a girl like you would hardly consider him eligible, would you?' Again his eyes scanned her and Elizabeth had the uncomfortable feeling that he had a pretty shrewd idea of just how expensive her clothes had been. It was also clear that he assumed she was as well off as the other residents at the Rob Roy and, in spite of herself, she felt somehow guilty, as though she were masquerading under false pretences. It was utterly ridiculous to feel that way, she told herself, considering that this stranger had practically forced her to acknowledge his presence. It was time she put him firmly in his place, she decided. 'I don't consider it any of your business whom I'm writing to,' she remarked icily, 'and I don't care in the least how well you're known in Kirkloch. I'd be glad if you'd leave me alone. I'd like to finish my letter, if you don't mind.' 'By all means.' Slowly he got to his feet and Elizabeth was conscious of how tall and burly he was, as he stood looking down at her. How piratical he looked, she thought, his bronze locks showing beneath his jaunty knitted cap ! 'You sound mighty hoity-toity,' he remarked, his white teeth showing, 'but in my opinion a girl who trips up strange men can't afford to be so choosy.'

With these words he strode off across the lounge and disappeared into the bar. Elizabeth fumbled in her bag and retrieved her writing-pad, her face flaming. To think he had had the effrontery to suggest that she had deliberately tripped him in an effort to scrape acquaintance with him! She wrote furiously and by the time she had finished her letter had regained her composure. After all, it was stupid to take seriously anything this newcomer might say, and she now began to feel pleasantly pleased that he had taken her for a girl of wealth; somehow it soothed her hurt feelings to know that in this slightly awe-inspiring environment, she had appeared completely at home. When finally she tucked away her writing-pad, she walked across the lounge, but before she reached the door she was hailed by one of the elderly ladies who had been particularly friendly to her. Miss Latimer usually had her tea in solitary state, but this evening she had a male companion, and her white curls seemed to bob with pleasure as she made the introduction. 'Elizabeth, my dear, I want you to meet my nephew, Reginald Latimer. Reggie, this is Miss Jones. It will be nice for you to know someone else at the Rob Roy, apart from myself and the rest of us old fogies.' Before she quite knew how it had happened, Miss Latimer's nephew had deftly fetched another chair and Elizabeth found herself seated opposite him. It was natural enough, she thought, that Miss Latimer should be pleased and proud to present such a smooth handsome nephew. He was tall—as tall as Kerr Carmichael, Elizabeth surmised, but apart from that there was a great difference between the two men, for Reginald had a polished suave finish that was singularly lacking in Kerr Carmichael.

'Reggie is sailing around the islands, taking photographs,' Miss Latimer was saying. 'You must get him to take yours,' while he's here, although I must warn you that they're not always flattering. He took a photograph of me which he described as "bringing out all the character" in my face, but it was really quite hideous.' Reginald Latimer laughed. 'Take no notice of my aunt; she likes the chocolate-box type of photograph. However, if you let me take your portrait, I promise it will be anything but unflattering—how could it be otherwise than attractive with such a subject ?' His voice was pleasantly low and there was a sophisticated ease about him that she found difficult to resist. All the same she had no intention of letting this experienced young man think she was under any delusions concerning her looks. She laughed a little ruefully. 'In that case you must be a miracleworker; I know perfectly well I'm plain, although I do try to make the best of myself.' 'And a very good job of it you do,' his aunt put in gushingly. 'One grows tired of seeing so many pretty faces, especially when they can be manufactured so easily. What's the point of looking pretty if one dresses as hideously as some of the young people do today? I was just saying to Reggie what a smart outfit you're wearing, when that dreadful Kerr Carmichael arrived on the scene. I do hope he wasn't annoying you, dear ?' Miss Latimer's small, rather doggy face took on a look of eager expectancy as she waited breathlessly for Elizabeth's reply. 'He's certainly a most extraordinary-looking character,' Reginald Latimer put in. He sounded amused and faintly patronising and for some reason Elizabeth felt defensive.

Miss Latimer looked faintly disappointed as Elizabeth replied, 'It was really my fault; I had my foot sticking out from under the table and he tripped over it.' Miss Latimer sipped at her teacup. 'I've heard it said that Kerr Carmichael can be extremely nasty when he wishes, although I must say I've never had any reason to find fault with him myself. Of course he does dress very strangely and doesn't seem to care in the least what impression he makes, but he can be a perfect gentleman when he wishes. I remember one evening I dropped my ball of wool when I was knitting in the lounge and he took great trouble to find it, although it had rolled under a cabinet. I must admit I rather like him, although people on the whole are rather inclined to be afraid of him, I think, because he's so dreadfully unpredictable, but then they forget that not everyone in his position would have taken the course he did in the circumstances. After all, it can't have been easy for a Carmichael to have—' To Elizabeth's disappointment, at this point Reginald put in, "It seems to me a pity to spend the little time I have at Kirkloch discussing this Carmichael fellow, no matter how engrossing his history may be. After all, I'll only be here long enough to sail around collecting background scenes for some publicity work, and the White Lady is lying idle.' 'All right, get on with it, Reggie,' his aunt smiled. 'I know you're dying to take Miss Jones for a sail while you're here and I'm sure she'd love it. I must say that boat of yours is a beauty. I only wish I were a better sailor and I'd take a trip with you myself. Of course, Miss Jones may have something better to do than to go sailing with you,' she added graciously.

'No, I don't think I have,' Elizabeth replied, after what she considered was a suitable pause while she made a pretence of reviewing her plans. 'In that case it's settled,' Miss Latimer said cheerfully, but Elizabeth thought she detected a slight twinkle in her eyes. To a woman so observant and so interested in other people's affairs it must have been fairly obvious that Elizabeth's days were not spent in a continual round of pleasure. That evening she dressed with particular care.. She decided to wear one of her favourite dresses of amber silk with a big floppy artist's bow of black and scarlet tied under the wide collar. She surveyed herself critically in the long mirror in her room before she went downstairs. Her usually pale cheeks had a faint flush of excitement and her eyes sparkled with anticipation. Her newlywashed hair was piled into a gleaming knot and for once she was pleased with her rather nondescript brown tresses. Evidently Reggie Latimer found her anything but nondescript and during dinner paid her flattering attention. Occasionally as Miss Latimer chatted in her usual inconsequential way Elizabeth found her attention wander. From her place in the dining-room she could see through the door across from her. People were passing to and fro from other parts of the hotel and some groups of men in tweeds and deerstalkers, their cheeks ruddy from days in the open air, were heading in the direction of the bar. But there was no sign of that burly figure with the bronze locks falling on his forehead and the blazing blue eyes. What did he do for a living? she wondered. In his waders and piratical woollen cap he had looked like a fisherman. His voice had held the faint singsong of the Gaelic speaker, yet in spite of his cavalier manner he had had an unmistakable air of distinction. Did he often patronise

the Rob Roy, she wondered, and would she, by any chance, see him again before she went home? 'Really, this is very unflattering,' Reggie Latimer was saying. 'Here am I straining every nerve to present myself as an interesting figure and you sit with your eyes glued on the door, as if you expected Prince Charlie to ride in on a white charger.' 'Sorry,' Elizabeth started guiltily, 'I'm afraid I was letting my mind wander.' In spite of his whimsical tone she could detect a distinct hint of pique. 'I was saying,' he resumed, 'that I must get you interested in sailing. Perhaps we could fit in a few trips while I'm here.' 'You'd think, to hear Reggie, that he's an expert on the subject,' his aunt put in ingenuously. 'Actually White Lady is not a yacht, it's a cabin cruiser, so of course there are no sails.. If there were Reggie wouldn't know how to handle it. I mean, he has had no experience of real sailing. That's why I'm always telling him to be careful.' 'Oh, do stop fussing, Aunt,' Reggie said irritably, 'or you'll quite put Elizabeth off. I'm quite capable of managing White Lady even if I'm not an expert.' Turning to Elizabeth, he said eagerly, 'If you're agreeable, what about our setting off early? There are lots of little islands at the mouth of the loch; we could explore and take a picnic basket and be away all day.' 'I'd love that,' Elizabeth agreed at once. 'By the way, while we're on the subject, White Lady is only on hire. I'm not well enough off to own a boat like that. Usually I take it out only on business trips. I want you to know now, in case you would think that I was sailing under false colours, as it were.'

'Be sure to take a warm coat with you, my dear,' Miss Latimer told Elizabeth. 'I'm told it can be very cold on the loch, even on a sunny day.' Elizabeth found it hard not to laugh as Reggie caught her eye and made an expression of wry resignation. His grimace had not escaped his aunt's quick eye. For a moment she looked affronted, then, as she saw Elizabeth's amusement, she began to laugh, and soon all three were giving peals of helpless merriment. Dinner passed pleasantly, and now to Elizabeth the rather oldfashioned magnificence of the Rob Roy no longer seemed oppressive. There was only one thing that struck a jarring note and that was that, as the evening wore on, it became clear that both Miss Latimer and her nephew looked upon her as being a woman of independent means. Would Reginald be so attentive were he to know that, in fact, she was a working girl who would very shortly have to look about for a job ? Occasionally it was on the tip of her tongue to hint that she was by no means a lady of leisure and that her stay at the Rob Roy was only an interlude in her life, but somehow she felt reluctant to do so. It was so much more pleasant to bask in the delightful sensation of being the centre of attention for once. On the following morning she threw aside the bedclothes and ran over to the windows of her room which looked directly out over the sea loch on which the hotel was situated. There, tied up at the private jetty of the hotel, was a sleekly beautiful cabin cruiser, sparkling white in the morning light. Already the skies were blue

and the mountains were bloomed with a gentle heat haze which she had come to associate with a good day. She dressed in the white tunic suit which she had bought with just such an occasion in mind; it had a high mandarin collar and was fastened at the side with large scarlet buttons. She tied a matching tinker scarf of scarlet about her throat. On her tall slender figure the effect was elegant and gay. Plain though she might be she had made the very best of herself, she thought wryly, as she took one last look at her appearance before running downstairs. May Mackenzie looked up from the register and surveyed Elizabeth with wide-eyed interest. 'O-ho, all ready for the kill, I see.' Elizabeth looked at her in surprise. 'Don't give me that innocent act,' May laughed. 'His aunt has been informing everyone from the boots up that you're off for a sail with her handsome nephew in his yacht.' 'It's not a yacht; it's a cabin cruiser.' Elizabeth corrected primly. 'All right, a cabin cruiser!' But what's the difference? They've both got cabins to be cosy in, haven't they ?' May asked crisply. 'Personally I think you're a lucky girl. He's the type I'd fall for— especially if nice interesting trips in White Lady were included. They say too that he's going to be filthy rich some day. He's Miss Latimer's favourite nephew and it seems she's going to leave him her money, which makes him even more attractive,' May added wickedly. 'All the same, if it really came down to a choice I'd much prefer Kerr Carmichael.' 'Kerr Carmichael!' Elizabeth repeated, hoping May had not noticed the little start she had given at the mention of his name.

'Yes. I caught sight of you with him and I was positively green. I've been trying for ages to get him to notice poor little me, but so far have made no impression. By the way, if I'm not being too nosey, what exactly did you talk about?' Elizabeth shrugged. 'Oh, nothing in particular.' 'Well, watch out, my girl. Kerr Carmichael has rather a reputation in the district. He's inclined to love them and leave them.' Elizabeth laughed. 'Don't worry! I haven't the slightest interest in him.' 'Oh, is that so ?' May scoffed. 'Do you think I didn't notice the gleam in your eye when I mentioned his name ?' 'If you noticed a gleam it was probably because I consider his manners appalling,' Elizabeth retorted. 'Although everyone seems to approve of him. Why, I can't imagine.' May nodded. 'The Carmichaels are well known here. He comes of an old family, although the Carmichaels are not as well off now as they used to be in days gone by. Kerr runs the farm for his grandfather and occasionally gets his ketch, Birlinn, chartered for fishing trips.' So that explained his unconventional and salty appearance in the Rob Roy, Elizabeth thought, but was careful to change the subject. If the irrepressible May thought she had anything more than a casual interest in Kerr Carmichael, from now on she would be mercilessly teased, she realised. 'Well, I'd better not keep you any longer gossiping,' May concluded. 'I see glamour-boy in the lounge, straining at the leash.'

As May had remarked, Reginald was waiting for her with flattering impatience. He looked well- groomed and handsome in a gaily patterned Fair Isle jersey. As she entered the lounge his regard was flattering. 'You look terrific, Elizabeth. I must say I'm relieved you haven't turned out as so many girls do in a pair of old slacks and a dreary jumper. That may be all very well for most men, but I admit that, as far as I'm concerned, they're an eyesore. I like to have beautiful things around me. I suppose a photographer has to pay the price for his talent!' He seemed confident she had made special efforts with her appearance for his benefit, but Elizabeth was only too keenly aware of how unattractive she would appear in the casual clothes that a prettier girl could get away with. Together they went out to the jetty. Now that she was close to it, Elizabeth could see that it was much larger than she had imagined and gleamingly opulent, and when she praised it, she could see that Reggie was obviously flattered by her open admiration. Reggie stood at the wheel and the engine purred into life and soon they were cutting through still waters between mountains from which the mists were already rising in the bright spring sun. The loch was as smooth as a sheet of glass and soon Elizabeth was reclining at her ease, in her hand a long cool glass with ice from the refrigerator of the well-equipped cabin. She gave a sigh of satisfaction. This was how she had dreamed of her holiday. It had come very late, of course. She would be going home in a day or two, but this

would be something to remember when she had taken up work; something to refer back to, as in a sort of mental scrapbook, when life seemed a mundane and dreary place. Lunch-time came and Elizabeth laid out the meal which they had brought with them in a hamper from the hotel—chicken salad with French bread and ice- cold wine, followed by delicious lemon mousse. As they put the remains back into the basket, Reggie said, a little ruefully, 'I hope you won't mind my mixing business with pleasure, but I simply must get on with this business of taking photographs, and the light's just right for the job. You don't mind, do you ?' 'No, of course not,' she replied. She rather looked forward to lying back in her comfortable lounging chair, gazing at the blue sky where black-headed gulls hovered and screamed over the islands. He started the engine and slowly they made their way amongst the lovely islets that clustered about the mouth of the loch where it entered the sea. Soon Reggie was absorbed in his photographs and Elizabeth, left to her own devices, dozed in the sun. She awoke with a start to find there was a freshness in the air and that the sea had become slightly choppy, although the sun still shone warmly, but on the horizon she could see a large grey patch of cloud and in the distance the sea appeared ominously rough. She found that Reggie too was gazing doubtfully at the grey smudge on the horizon. 'You don't think there's going to be a storm, do you?' she inquired apprehensively, as she remembered Miss Latimer's rather disparaging remarks concerning Reggie's seamanship,.

'I don't think it will amount to much,' Reggie returned. The air had become noticeably colder and Elizabeth shivered in her light tunic suit. Then suddenly the sun was blotted out as the great grey cloud expanded over the sky. 'Well, that's it for today,' Reggie commented. 'I suppose we'd better turn back. It's a pity because I was getting some terrific shots. I'm afraid I didn't notice just how bad the weather was becoming. Why don't you go down into the cabin, Elizabeth? You look absolutely frozen, and we're likely to have a rough run back to Kirkloch.' Elizabeth shook her head. The waves were rising high now over the bows, casting showers of spray and the boat rocked violently. Reggie turned the boat in a wide sweep. There was such a lack of confidence in his manner that Elizabeth realised she would feel even more alarmed were she to be enclosed in the claustrophobic atmosphere of the cabin. Then suddenly the engines spluttered to a stop. The sleek little craft heaved wildly. Clutching the rail, she could see Reggie's head bob up and down. With his back towards her he gave the impression of futilely tinkering at the engine. 'I'm afraid it's conked out,' he announced glumly. Ahead she could see a yacht, its sails billowing as it cut swiftly through the spume-topped waves, then it was lost to sight as another wave broke over White Lady. Perhaps she should have taken Reggie's advice and gone below, Elizabeth thought; at least in the cabin she would be dry and warm.. She let go of the rail and began to move forward when a tremendous sea heaved the boat on one side and for an instant it

seemed to Elizabeth that the world was revolving madly. Then a great wall of water seemed to hiss down on top of her and suddenly she was in the sea, sinking down like a leaden weight into the fathomless depths. With bursting lungs she began fighting her way upwards. Her head reached the surface and she took in great gasping breaths of air. For a moment she felt nothing but relief that she had momentarily escaped from the dark black waters, but then as she glanced around she could see that she was already some distance from the cruiser. Occasionally she caught a glimpse of it as it dipped up and down in the water; now she could see it and now it was lost to view. Treading water, she screamed as loudly as she could, but she knew that her voice was being whipped away by the wind. She realised something more, and it filled her with despair—obviously Reggie had not noticed her disappearance. It had all happened so quickly, and only a minute or two had elapsed. Reggie, engrossed in trying to start the engine, had not yet discovered that she was missing. With a feeling of overwhelming terror she realised that she was in a hopeless position. Through her mind flitted scraps of information she had gleaned concerning the loch—that it was fathomless and that deep beneath its dark waters were great subterranean caves. Once more she screamed, her voice cracking in terror. Then suddenly she realised that a great dark shape was passing close by her. She heard the flap of sail and the hiss of water on the bows and realised it was the yacht she had glimpsed. Someone was calling to her in loud commanding tones. For an instant she looked up into bright aquamarine blue eyes. They were familiar, she thought vaguely. But now they were no longer lazy and quizzical.

Again she heard his voice call harshly. He was giving her some sort of instructions, she realised, but it was impossible to hear what he said above the sound of the waves and even if she had known what to do she was now too weak to obey. But somehow it didn't seem to matter any more. Again the sea caught her, as though she were in the tentacles of a giant octopus; she felt herself dragged away from the yacht whose nearness had been like a great comforting bird with its flapping sails. So after all she was not to be rescued! But now she felt only numb despair. She was barely conscious when once again she was washed back against the yacht. But this time her head struck violently against the hull.

CHAPTER TWO ELIZABETH opened her eyes to find herself lying on a soft comfortable bunk. There was the sound of old timbers creaking and the soothing, swaying motion of a ship in calm waters. Dazedly she looked around. She was in the cabin of a boat—but such a different one from the enamelled, dainty interior of the White Lady! It was spacious and panelled in dark gleaming wood. Along one side extended a banquette upholstered in cream leather and on it were tossed gaily coloured cushions of mauve, marigold and light green. Only the gleaming brass portholes and fittings and the sombre walls revealed that this was no rich man's toy but a well- seasoned and much-travelled yacht. She was suddenly aware too that she was not alone. A tall burly figure in the familiar jersey and piratical knitted cap was standing with his back to her at the long gleaming galley. She sat upright with a jolt, then gave a little exclamation as pain lanced through her head. The broad figure turned with surprising swiftness, a mug of coffee in his hand. 'So you've decided to come round at last! And high time too, I may add. All the same, don't you think the blow on the head was sufficient, or was the sight of me so alarming ?' Elizabeth laughed shakily. 'Well, you did look a little startling and I wasn't sure where I was.' 'Here, take this!' He thrust the mug into her hand.

'Drink this and then we can get you out of your wet clothes. Do you realise you're soaked to the skin?' Elizabeth sipped gratefully at the strong, sweet coffee. 'I hadn't noticed,' she confessed dolefully. 'I was so confused. Everything seems such a puzzle, I just can't get my bearings.' The aquamarine blue eyes gazed down at her, but now they were no longer quizzical and amused as she remembered them on their first encounter. They had a dark sternness that somehow made him appear older. 'Naturally you're feeling a bit bewildered. You gave your head a terrific crack against the hull. Do you feel all right ?' Elizabeth nodded carefully, then laughed ruefully as pain jolted through her head. 'I—I think so. But how did I get here? I was in the water—' She shuddered as she remembered her despair as she was swept away from the side of the yacht, just when rescue had seemed in sight. 'Then something happened.' She wrinkled her brows. 'I can't quite remember.' 'Then you hit your head a terrific wallop—which was just as well in a way because you ceased struggling and I was able to haul you in.' Memory suddenly flooded back. 'Reggie! What happened to him?' She spilled some of her coffee in her agitation. 'He couldn't start the engine.' He nodded. 'Exactly! Your boy-friend was in difficulties. You were drifting.' 'But Reggie will think I've been drowned,' Elizabeth exclaimed agitatedly.

'Serve him right,' Kerr Carmichael returned, unperturbed. 'It may teach him to take better care of his girl-friend and see that she's not washed overboard while his back is turned.' 'I'm not his girl-friend,' Elizabeth said crossly. 'Frankly, my dear girl, I couldn't care less whether you are or not. I'm simply pointing out that due to his criminal carelessness I've been put to considerable trouble, fishing you out of the sea.' Now that she was beginning to recover from her ordeal, Elizabeth's temper rose at this cavalier treatment. She sat up straight, pushing the wet strands of hair back from her face. 'I hope I won't have to trouble you much longer, Mr. Carmichael.' 'Call me Kerr. All my friends do,' he returned. She ignored this interruption, aware that he was quietly laughing at her rather pompous speech. 'I'd be obliged if you'd let me off as soon as possible,' she continued with dignity. 'I must let Reggie know I'm safe and send someone to tow him in.' Kerr Carmichael sipped coffee thoughtfully. 'As to letting you off, you can of course go up on deck and step off if you find my company too obnoxious.' 'I don't mean that,' Elizabeth interposed hastily. He grinned at this admission. 'No, somehow I didn't think you did! As to dear Reggie, he's quite safe. Here in the west of Scotland the weather has a trick of changing quite suddenly. Perhaps it's escaped your notice that the storm is over. In due course he'll find himself back once more in Kirkloch. He also knows you're safe. I managed to let him know you were aboard the Birlinn before we finally parted company. Now are you satisfied ?'

Elizabeth gave a sigh of relief. Soon she would be back once more in the Rob Roy, which seemed to her now to be a warm welcoming haven. Kerr laid down his mug and crossed the cabin. Reaching into a locker, he produced a large rough towel and tossed it to her. 'Here, give yourself a good rub down and you'll look less like a drowned rat!' Elizabeth, wet and miserable as she was, gaped incredulously at this gratuitous insult. 'Why do you look so surprised? You don't by any chance imagine you're a beauty, do you ?' Elizabeth felt herself choke with rage. Did Kerr Carmichael imagine that just because he had fished her out of the water he could treat her with such scant courtesy? 'Why you—you—' she stammered. He raised a large brown work-scarred hand. 'Don't bother to let off steam on me for you're wasting your time. While you're on the Birlinn you'll have to put up with the vagaries of its skipper. You're not in the Rob Roy now, being fussed over, your biggest worry being what outfit you'll appear in next. I don't intend to change my ways just because I happened to have the misfortune to scoop you out of the loch.' 'Perhaps you would have preferred to leave me there,' Elizabeth retorted bitterly. He threw back his head and laughed with genuine amusement and for a moment, even in her resentment, Elizabeth thought, how typical of the man his laugh was, loud and unrestrained. Was this

the way buccaneers of other days would exult as they looted an enemy ship ? she wondered. Then suddenly his expression changed. 'Well, don't sit there brooding vengeance. Get out of those wet clothes immediately. And don't bother to look at me like that. I'll remove my obnoxious presence right away. Give me a shout when you're ready, and don't make it too long, Liza, like a good girl. I've a stew on the stove and I've no intention of going without sustenance just to satisfy your sense of propriety.' As he turned to leave the cabin she said coldly, 'My name is Elizabeth. Perhaps you've forgotten.' He shook his head, the bronze curls falling forward beneath the rakish cap. 'Oh no, I haven't. It just happens that I think Liza suits you better. You may be prim and proper Elizabeth at the Rob Roy, but on the Birlinn you're Liza—so like it or lump it.' As he disappeared, Elizabeth furiously began to pull off her drenched garments. In dismay she regarded her treasured tunic suit as she hung it on a rail near the hot stove. It was dark with sea water and stained with oil and tar. Her tinker scarf which had fluttered so rakishly when she had set out that morning was now no more than a limp and tattered rag. As she dried her hair and rubbed herself down in the warmth of the cabin she ran over in her mind her conversation with Kerr Carmichael and felt faintly uneasy as it became more and more clear to her that her rescuer was under a misapprehension as far as she was concerned. He had evidently concluded that she was a lady of leisure, a pampered and wealthy guest at the Rob Roy, where the trained staff catered to her every need. It didn't really matter, of course,

she told herself, what misconceptions Kerr Carmichael harboured as far as she was concerned. All the same, she felt uncomfortable, as though she was acting a foolish charade. Oh well, let him think what he liked, she decided, as, warm and dry and wrapped in the folds of the big towel which covered her like a cloak, she sniffed appreciatively at the contents of the stew-pot that simmered on the galley stove. She was hungry, she realised. After all, a lot of time had passed since her picnic with Reggie Latimer. There was nothing she would enjoy more than a plate of that appetising stew. She was about to announce to Kerr that she was now presentable when he clumped into the cabin in sea-boots. 'Huh,' he commented, 'may I say that, on you, a bath-towel is extremely becoming?' In spite of herself Elizabeth flushed. 'I expect my clothes will be almost dry by the time I get back,' she said hastily. 'Oh, about getting back, I'm afraid that's out of the question,' he returned coolly. As he spoke he dished out two generous portions of stew and pulled up a wide shelf that lay against the side of the cabin and served as a table when secured. 'Why don't you sit down?' he inquired amiably as he plonked the two dishes on the laminated table top. Aghast and speechless, Elizabeth flopped down on the banquette. 'What exactly do you mean—that it's out of the question ?' she quavered. Kerr fetched knives and forks, moving about the cabin awkwardly, as though his broad frame and powerful hands were ill adapted to

such domestic chores. 'I mean, we're not heading for the Rob Roy. In fact we're going in a different direction.' 'But—but why?' Elizabeth stammered, her eyes wide with dismay. Kerr seated himself and drew his plate towards him. 'Why don't you eat? This is good, if I do say so myself.' He helped himself to a mouthful and chewed with appreciation, evincing no interest in her alarm at his news. T shan't eat a bite until you tell me why you aren't taking me back,' she told him shrilly. 'Just as you like! But I assure you, you're missing a culinary treat.' Again, under Elizabeth's anxious inquiring gaze, he calmly helped himself to another mouthful, his attention fixed on one of the portholes, as though contemplating a distant horizon. Then, as Elizabeth continued to stare at him dumbly, he laid down his fork with a sigh. 'You don't by any chance imagine I'm abducting you, do you?' The eyes, blue as a summer sea, were regarding her, penetrating and intent. She glanced away, loath to admit that that was exactly the thought that had filtered through her mind. He laughed softly. 'Really, Liza, you're quite typical of your species. I suppose you imagine every man you meet is after your money. Did you envisage a forced marriage, at midnight perhaps, in an old and ruined Gothic church with candles guttering in the draft and ravens croaking in the towers ? No, my dear girl, I'm afraid the reason I'm not bringing you back to Kirkloch is all too prosaic. It's because it would take me too long. If you remember,

there was rough weather around when I had the doubtful privilege of rescuing you. I had no intention of altering course in those conditions and I was much too near home to consider turning back. After all, strange as it may seem to you, I have a life of my own. I don't spend all my time scouring the seas to discover if some silly, pampered girl and her equally inept boy-friend have got themselves into difficulties.' 'But I've already told you he's not my boy-friend,' she protested. 'All right then, he isn't your boy-friend, but what I say still goes. You can spend the night here and tomorrow I'll take great pleasure in returning you to the hotel. The sooner you're off my hands and back in your old haunts of sweet music and tables under the palms, the better.' Elizabeth traced the design on the table top with the handle of her knife. Now was the time to inform him that she was not, as he had surmised, a woman of means and leisure. 'You seem to imagine I'm well off,' she said at last. 'Isn't it pretty obvious ?' he retorted. 'The Rob Roy prides itself on being exclusive and one pays plenty for the privilege of staying there. And do you think I haven't a fairly good idea of how much your clothes cost?' he concluded drily. 'All the same, you've got it quite wrong,' she protested. 'Have I?' he asked ironically. 'Yes, I'm staying at Kirkloch only for a short holiday ! It was a sort of reward my father planned for me when I finished my training. It's not really the type of place I'd have chosen myself, but Daddy

imagined he was doing his best by arranging I should stay at the Rob Roy.' 'I see.' He regarded her thoughtfully. 'So you decided to live up to its rather conservative reputation and dress accordingly?' She nodded. 'I saved up.' She glanced ruefully at her ruined tunic suit. 'All the same,' he pursued, 'don't tell me you were bored by your outing with Reggie—even if it did end disastrously.' 'I met him only yesterday,' she replied quickly. 'I know his aunt and she introduced us and—' She stopped abruptly and bit her lip. Why was she so anxious to justify and explain her actions to this man ? she wondered. It was time she let him know that she was not answerable to him in any way for her actions, even if he had saved her life. 'Reggie is a photographer,' she announced. 'He hired the White Lady for a photographing trip. He wanted to take scenic views of the loch.' 'Did he, indeed?' her companion grinned. 'Well, that's quite a good gambit and gives plenty of scope for pursuing a friendship. He didn't by any chance suggest he'd like to photograph you in some cosy studio? That would have been his next move, I imagine.' 'No, he didn't!' Elizabeth flashed. He was openly mocking her, she knew, and she decided to take the wind out of his sails in every sense of the word. 'And even if he had, I shouldn't have agreed. You see, I'm under no illusion concerning myself. I'm no beauty, and I'm not silly enough to imagine I'd be of particular interest to a man of his profession. It was just that there was no one else around at the Rob Roy of about

his own age, so that's probably why he invited me in the first place.' She felt rather pleased with herself when she had concluded her little speech. It had, she felt, been a frank and unvarnished and coolly analytical recital of her own shortcomings. There was very little Kerr Carmichael could do to put her at a disadvantage now, she decided, after such an unequivocal statement. But her complacency was to be rudely shattered. He surveyed her thoughtfully for a few seconds and in the silence she could hear the water gently slapping against the sides of the yacht. 'You're quite right,' he remarked at last, with the air of a man who had given the subject some consideration. 'You're definitely no beauty.' 'Oh!' she exclaimed. She felt her cheeks grow pink with shock and mortification at this unflattering and unexpected acquiescence on his part. He raised his brows in inquiry. 'You seem surprised and not exactly pleased! Strange! I should have thought you would have been delighted that, on this subject at least, we were in agreement!' At a loss for words and in an effort to cover her confusion, Elizabeth applied herself to the plate of food in front of her. But, in spite of its appetising smell, it was dust and ashes in her mouth. How on earth could she have been so stupid as to place herself in this position ? What had seemed to her an excellent opportunity of scoring off this insufferable man had recoiled upon herself. She longed for the moment when she could step off the Birlinn and finally part from Kerr Carmichael for good and all.

'No, you're no beauty, Liza, but you're something much, much better.' His deep voice held a softness that was as surprising as a sudden caress. She glanced up at him, startled and bewildered. 'No doubt the estimable Reggie failed to notice how steadily and honestly you look at a man with those wide-set eyes of yours, or that your mouth is firm and loyal, or that although your nose turns up just a little too much it's like a brave little challenge to the world.' She stood up, unable to meet the keen regard of those strange, searingly blue eyes. As though sensing her discomfort, he said abruptly, 'It's time you had a little shut-eye. I'll give you some blankets and sheets and you can make up the other settee; it will be dryer.' 'I don't feel tired,' she protested. 'All the same, I think you'd better turn in. You must be completely exhausted.' That was the strange thing! She didn't feel the least bit tired. Instead she felt exhilarated and expectant—as though she were a little girl again on the eve of a longed-for treat. It was, of course, ridiculous and inexplicable, and wild horses could not have dragged from her the admission that she was loath to end this strange exciting intimacy engendered by the small, warm cabin with its gleaming pine panels, comfortable settees and warm ruddy stove.

Before she could think of an excuse, however, to prolong the moment, he reached into a locker and pulled out blankets, sheets and pillows and tossed the pile to her. 'There you are! You've no excuse now for not getting into your bunk.' Still she hesitated. He had effectively terminated her protests, but he showed no sign of leaving the cabin and her eyes widened as the full implications of the situation dawned on her. 'I think perhaps I'd better stay up,' she said primly. 'I can make myself quite comfortable with cushions on the settee.' He grinned, immediately guessing the reason for her decision. 'Don't worry, I'll sleep on deck. You can have the cabin to yourself.' His grin broadened. 'You didn't by any chance think that I intended to share the cabin with you ? Or perhaps you think your charms are so overwhelming that no man could resist you?' She turned and began to fling bedclothes on the long settee so that he could not see how mortified she felt by his mockery. Meanwhile, as though completely unaware of how keenly his arrow had struck home, he began to stoke up the stove and damp it down with layers of tea- leaves and slack. Elizabeth took the opportunity, while his back was turned, to slip between the sheets. For a moment she lay watching him as he carefully adjusted the damper. It was now time for her to hit back, she decided. She must not let this man assume that because he had fished her out of the water like a piece of flotsam he could treat her with contempt. 'You seem to be quite domesticated,' she remarked tartly.

He appeared maddeningly unscathed by what she had hoped would be to a man of his calibre a gratuitous insult. 'Do you really think so? Actually I learned the tea-leaves dodge from the old skipper of a barge- yacht. It keeps it going all night, and in the morning, all you have to do is pull out the damper; the fire blazes up and soon the old coffee-pot is bubbling merrily.' 'Indeed! How fascinating!' she said icily. It was frustrating not to be able to disconcert him. She sought in her mind for some parting jibe that might penetrate his armour. Having fixed the stove to his satisfaction he crossed to the settee and looked down at her thoughtfully. 'Don't bother racking that pretty little head of yours for a snide remark; you'll be wasting your time. I'm completely impervious to insults—especially when they're proffered by someone I was foolish enough to rescue from a watery grave.' For a moment she looked up at him shamefacedly. 'I'm really very grateful,' she told him meekly. She no longer felt so bellicose. She had been distinctly ungrateful, she realised. After all, it was true, this man had saved her life! Then as she saw his teeth gleam in a wicked smile and realised he had deliberately disarmed her by making her aware of how deeply she was indebted to him she bit her lip in silent rage. 'And don't frown so horribly,' he chided softly, 'It's not at all alluring—in fact, the direct opposite.'

Before she could think of a suitable reply he was engaged in turning down the brass oil lamp which swung on gimbals from the roof. 'If you should feel at all nervous, just call out. I'll be on deck,' he announced blandly, as he pulled a sleeping-bag from under the opposite settee and prepared to depart. 'I can't imagine why I should be nervous,' she replied distantly. He stood for a moment as though considering her reply thoughtfully. 'In that case you're a very foolish girl. This loch is one of the strongholds of the storm- kelpies; in fact, it swarms with them.' 'Storm-kelpies?' she queried. 'Yes, you'll recognise them immediately. They're blue. And when they're not raising up storms and causing mischief, they live in the deep caverns under the loch. It was probably their work that's brought you to the Birlinn tonight.' 'In which case I've nothing to thank them for,' Elizabeth retorted. 'But somehow I don't think the kelpies will make me at all nervous.' 'Perhaps not,' he agreed gravely, 'but you'd be very foolish indeed to ignore the each-uisge.' 'Each-uisge?' she inquired blankly. He nodded. 'Yes, that's Gaelic for water-horse, and although you may turn up your nose at the kelpies, you'd be very well advised not to take the water-horse lightly, for he has the unpleasant habit of galloping off with young maidens on his back and disappearing

into the loch, and the unfortunate female is never again seen by mortal eyes.' 'I feel much too tired to listen to any more fairytales,' Elizabeth informed him crushingly. 'Oh, very well, but don't say I didn't warn you. I'd hate to discover in the morning that you'd been spirited away during the night. In fact, I think I'd better ensure that it doesn't happen.' And before she had realised what he intended to do, he had crossed the cabin and, bending down, had kissed her fully on the lips. The suddenness and shock of his action left her speechless. Then, as she gathered her scattered wits together and prepared to let him know exactly what she thought of his behaviour, he put a broad finger gently across her mouth. 'Now don't jump to conclusions, Liza. I was simply acting in accordance with an old belief—that if a maiden is kissed by the man she loves she's safe from the depredations of the water-horse.' 'I believe you made it up,' Elizabeth told him weakly. Somehow she found it impossible now to summon up a convincing show of anger. The clear blue eyes gazed into hers with a look that caused her heart to pound suffocatingly. 'I admit that last bit was an invention on my part,' he agreed unrepentantly. 'You took an unfair advantage,' she accused him weakly. 'Perhaps! But I've wanted so much to kiss you, ever since I pulled you out of the loch. And, for your information, I'm a man who

usually gets what he wants.' Then the door swung behind him, and he was gone. For some time Elizabeth lay awake. She could hear the soothing sound of water slapping against the sides of the yacht as it lay at anchor and Kerr's purposeful footsteps as he moved about the deck. Then silence fell, broken only by the melancholy call of a night- bird as it winged its way across the distant moor. The red glow of the stove gleamed on the brass fittings and the lamp and Elizabeth as she drifted off to sleep in the cosy cabin wondered for a moment why he had' called his yacht the Birlinn. Had the name some particular significance in his life? she wondered. Was it by any chance the name of a girl he knew ? That thought was faintly disturbing. Tomorrow she would ask him, she thought sleepily. Then with a last look through one of the portholes at the stars that glittered with incredible brightness in the midnight blue of the sky she gave a little sigh and snuggled into her pillow.

CHAPTER THREE ELIZABETH awoke to the sound of sizzling. She opened her eyes sleepily to find Kerr, his back to her, busy at the stove. There was a delicious smell of frying fish and she sniffed appreciatively. He swung around and regarded her quizzically. 'So you're awake at last!' She nodded. 'I expect it was the delicious smell of fish that awoke me. I see you're quite a good cook,' she told him demurely. But if she had thought to embarrass him, she found she was much mistaken. 'I'm not too bad,' he agreed equably. 'In fact I think I can cook a better mackerel than Mrs. Meikle.' 'Mrs. Meikle?' she inquired. 'Yes. Our housekeeper, and a terrible old termagant.' 'I see.' But she felt reluctant to question him. In spite of his amiability one did not know with this man when one might meet with a rebuff. Deftly he tipped golden-brown fish on to a plate and laid it on the table. 'Well, what about showing a leg? Nothing a man likes better than to know his efforts are appreciated.' Then, seeing her eyes go to the spot where her clothes hung to dry, he went on, 'Perhaps, on second thoughts, it would be as well if you had your breakfast in bed this morning.' He pulled up a folding shelf by the side of her settee and arranged her breakfast upon it. 'Anyway, I suppose you're used to getting your breakfast in bed, being a lady of leisure.'

'But I've already told you I'm here only for a short holiday.' He poured out a mug of boiling hot tea and cut hunks from a large loaf. 'Oh yes, you were telling me last night that you were trained. Trained in what, may I ask?' 'I don't see that it's any of your business,' Elizabeth told him, then gasped as she took a mouthful of the scalding tea. Kerr helped himself to a large forkful of fish. 'Oh, come off it, Liza! You're sitting up on my settee, drinking my tea and eating my delicious fish. You're in no position to act the great lady.' Yes, he had saved her life, Elizabeth had to agree, no matter how obnoxious he might be. 'Well, if you must know, I trained in domestic economy.' 'And what exactly do you mean by that?' he queried. 'I suppose it means you dish up exotic French concoctions in a frilly apron and a cute cap !' Elizabeth found herself trying to hold back a smile at this description of her occupation. She must be careful not to encourage him in his rudeness by letting him see how amusing she considered this. 'That's a bit better,' he remarked, flicking her a glance. 'Do you know, when you smile you can be quite pretty.' 'We were speaking about my training,' she reminded him. 'And it's not nearly as glamorous as you seem to think. We trained in everything to do with housekeeping and learned how to run a home as economically as possible.'

'I see,' he said thoughtfully. 'And does this mean that when you take a job you won't expect the most up-to-date equipment? I'm speaking of all that press- button sort of apparatus you see in the advertisements.' 'No, of course not,' Elizabeth laughed. 'In fact, if anything, I rather prefer the old-fashioned methods.' 'Tell me, Liza, are you in the market for a job ?' He was not joking, she could see. In fact, for once, his manner was grave. 'But of course,' she replied, puzzled. 'I've already told you that. As soon as I go home I shall look around for a job immediately.' 'Then perhaps I have the very thing for you.' 'What?' The remark was so very unexpected that Elizabeth could only stare at him. 'Do you mean here, at Kirkloch ?' 'No, not at Kirkloch. Anyway, we're quite some distance from Kirkloch now, remember. We're much nearer the firth. Say twenty miles as the crow flies. But I'd better show you the place first, then you can make up your mind.' He got to his feet. 'In the meantime you can wash up the dishes.' She was aware that this move was designed to prevent her raising any objections to his plans, but before she had time to protest he had gone up on deck and soon she could feel the motion as the boat began to glide through the water. . She took down her tunic suit and examined it critically, pleased to see that it had dried out much better than she had dared to hope.

She dressed and groomed herself as well as she could, then set too to tidy up the cabin, her mind working busily. It seemed strange to think that such a short time previously her life had been so calm and uneventful; then she had been receiving the efficient, unobtrusive service given to guests at the Rob Roy; now she was cleaning a fishy frying-pan in the tiny cabin of the Birlinn. How little she knew of its owner, she thought uneasily, as she dried the dishes and placed them in their neat racks. Why was she allowing herself to be taken to an unknown destination by this strange enigmatic man with the sea-blue eyes who was so clearly accustomed to getting his own way? She should insist upon being returned to the Rob Roy immediately, she told herself, knowing that a little demon of curiosity would prevent her from doing so. She had a sense of excitement and curiosity as the boat cut through the water. Where was he taking her, she wondered, knowing that wherever it was it would be an improvement upon the dreary monotony of life at the hotel. When she had finished she viewed the cabin with satisfaction. She had folded back the laminated plastic table top against the wall; the plates and mugs were neatly arranged in the racks in the galley; the bedclothes from the settee were once again in their locker and the cushions plumped up. The little cabin was now a model of neatness and efficiency and she guessed that the captain of the Birlinn would make sure that on deck everything would be equally shipshape. Through one of the portholes she could see the sun sparkling on the water. Against the azure-blue sky, the green shoreline rose up in soft verdant folds and curly- coated cattle grazed in the fields that sloped down towards the shore.

Soon she would have the answers to all the questions that had clamoured for a reply, but at that moment somehow they didn't seem so important; she felt nothing now but a calm, happy expectancy. When she went on deck the boat was already sliding towards a jetty. When he had tied up, Kerr helped Elizabeth over the side. 'That's Brae House.' He was pointing to a well- built granite house that stood on a small rise surrounded by pastures and tillage land. Behind it, sheep grazed on scrubby foothills and further on rose the blue mountains, bloomed with mist. 'Well, do you like it?' he asked abruptly. But she was relieved that he did not bother to wait for her reply because to her Brae House, sturdy and uncompromising, and built to withstand the rigours of a Scottish winter, did not appear particularly attractive. As they walked towards it he said, 'This has been the home of the Carmichaels for the past two hundred years. The original home was burned down. In those days it was really a fortress. What was erected in its place was a sort of farmhouse.' 'It seems rather big for a farmhouse,' Elizabeth commented doubtfully. He smiled wryly. 'In those days, you see, the Carmichaels were pretty big shots in this part of the world. But things changed after Culloden and the defeat of Bonnie Prince Charlie; the Carmichaels lost nearly all their property. That's what happens when you fight for a lost cause.'

Elizabeth glanced at him. The blue eyes now were no longer smiling, but looked hard as steel. Did he regret his ancestors' defence of the young and handsome Prince Charles Stuart, she wondered, yet was not Kerr Carmichael the sort of man who would gamble his all on the losing side ? As they approached the house a fine black and white collie dog could be seen in the distance barking ferociously. Then it ran towards Kerr and began to jump up about him, licking his hands affectionately. Kerr gave the animal a perfunctory pat. 'Come now, Gunna, you keep forgetting you're a sheepdog. Where's your sense of dignity?' Gunna, however, ignored this admonition and continued to prance ecstatically. It was then, as though alerted to their arrival by the dog's exuberant welcome, that a tall, black-clad woman came to the open doorway. She regarded them sourly, her long, bony face carved in bitter lines. 'So you're back!' she remarked sharply, adding, as her eyes studied Elizabeth with antagonism, 'And you've brung a lassie with you, I see!' Kerr ignored this. 'How's my grandfather?' he asked shortly. The woman raised her bony shoulders slightly. 'Same as usual! You'd better go on up to him. He has me nearly drove mad, calling me out of the kitchen every two minutes. If it's not one thing it's another! It'll be a happy moment, I can tell you, when I shake the dust of Brae House from my feet for the last time!' And with these words she flounced back into the house.

Kerr, Elizabeth noted, seemed completely unaffected by the woman's virulence. 'Come, I'll start off by taking you up to see Grandfather.' But Elizabeth hesitated. There had been such animosity in the woman's manner that she felt daunted. Seeing this, he caught her by the wrist and pulled her into the narrow hall, on the walls of which hung pen and wash drawings of Highland scenes. 'Don't tell me you'd let that old besom frighten you?' To this Elizabeth could make no reply. There had certainly been something rather frightening in the woman's vitriolic attack. 'But who is she ?' she queried. 'That's our housekeeper—or should I say our ex- housekeeper. Grandfather and herself don't rub along too well together.' 'She made that fairly obvious,' Elizabeth returned drily. But Kerr was paying scant attention. She found herself hustled along a corridor towards the back of the house. Kerr pushed open a door and she found herself in a long, high-ceilinged rather narrow room. Seated near a blazing wood fire was an old gentleman in an armchair, a plaid rug tucked around his knees. When they entered he was busily engaged on whittling a piece of wood. He looked up at them and Elizabeth was struck by the fact that the eyes beneath thick white eyebrows were the same penetrating blue as his grandson's. 'So you've another lassie!' the old man announced. 'Well, she's not near as pretty as the last one!'

To Elizabeth's annoyance, Kerr took this astounding statement calmly. 'This is not another of my lassies, Grandfather. This is Liza Jones, our new housekeeper.' Elizabeth was on the point of opening her mouth to repudiate this audacious claim when the old man asked, 'So Mrs. Meikle's gone, is she ?' 'Not yet, but she tells me she intends to depart forthwith,' his grandson returned drily. The old man clicked his tongue and fixed his eyes musingly on the fire. 'Now what's got into her? In my young days housekeepers got attached to a family and wouldn't think of leaving for anything. But nowadays you can't count on people staying on and being loyal. It seems to me they keep coming and going at a terrible rate.' 'You know perfectly well why housekeepers don't stay on at Brae House,' his grandson replied, a slight sharpness in his tones. 'And that's because they can't get along with you.' 'Now that I cannot allow,' his grandfather replied with dignity. 'What harm have I ever done her ? I sit up here in my corner by the fire disturbing nobody. All I asked her to do is to make me a few bannocks, and the next thing she's rampaging around saying she's overworked and that I never give her a moment's peace, and, mind you, there's no truth in it—and that's a fact.' 'We don't have a housekeeper any time until you drive her away with that sharp tongue of yours,' Kerr told him exasperatedly. 'Nonsense, Kerr! All I said was that any woman worth her salt would know how to fling a few bannocks on the griddle. What was wrong with that, I ask you? No, it's my opinion that Meikle thought when she came here that she'd have a right high idle time.

Well, I soon let her know that I keep a sharp eye on things and know fine everything that goes on in the house. Oh yes, I may be old, but I'm not going to let the likes of her get the better of me.' He cackled appreciatively, then, as his eye fell upon Elizabeth, he asked, 'If this one's not one of your lassies what is she doing here?' His blue eyes grew sharp. 'She's not looking for a husband, is she? Oh, I know all their tricks! They come in as the housekeeper and all the time their mind's set on ending up as the mistress. You mark my words, Kerr, when a woman sees a man is free the first thing she does is set her cap at him.' Elizabeth's eyes opened wide at this statement and she gave a little splutter of annoyance. Did he actually think that she aspired to become Kerr Carmichael's wife? Well, she'd soon let him know in no uncertain terms that he was quite mistaken! It was then she caught the glint of mischief in the old man's eyes. So it was from his grandfather that Kerr got his taste for needling people. Well, she would disappoint him, she decided, by not rising to the bait! 'What beautiful wood carvings!' she exclaimed, crossing the room to stand by a small table near the old man's armchair on which were displayed tiny carvings of deer, hounds and cats which she took to be Scottish wildcats because they differed from the domestic animal. The figures were roughly finished but they gave an impression of strength and movement that was striking. They were the work of someone who was a close observer of nature. On another table lay an array of chisels and gouges and wooden mallets of different shapes and sizes. It was obvious that the old man took his work extremely seriously, because his tools were laid out in neat lines and had the unmistakable look of being kept in excellent condition.

She picked up one of the little wooden animals. 'This is a wildcat, isn't it? They're rarely seen nowadays, I've heard.' 'A wildcat,' the old man agreed. He seemed surprised and mollified by her genuine interest. Then, as though to dispel any impression of weakness, he added gruffly, 'But what would a town lassie like yourself know about wildcats ?' 'Oh, my father told me about them,' she informed him. 'He comes from this part of the world.' 'Well, you can tell him they're no as scarce as they were, what with all this forestry that's going forward in the Highlands now. I'm told they're full of fox and deer and wildcats, but I'm too old now to go out and see what's happening for myself. And what do they cry you, miss—if I may make so bold as to ask?' 'Cry me ?' Elizabeth repeated blankly. 'He means, what's your name,' Kerr informed her blandly. 'Oh, Elizabeth—Elizabeth Jones.' 'Elizabeth!' Old Mr. Carmichael snorted. 'It's a bit of a mouthful, if you ask me.' 'Just what I thought!' his grandson interjected, 'so I've decided to call her Liza.' 'Well, Liza, if you're going to stay here with us, I'll tell you straight away that I won't put up with fancy recipes. Good Scots cooking is what you'll have to do, with pease brose for my breakfast and plenty of nice fresh bannocks when I feel in the mood. And another thing! I don't want you interfering with my woodwork. That old besom, Meikle, was forever putting away my tools. Said

they were untidy! Well, I won't have it. The first time you lay a finger on one of my things, out you go!' Really, the old man was insufferable! Elizabeth thought angrily. 'Don't worry, for I haven't the slightest intention of staying here—' she began. But Kerr broke in. 'Now don't be so hasty. You haven't seen the rest of the house.' And before she could protest further he had seized her by the elbow and hustled her from the room. Giving her no time to expostulate, he hurried her to the back of the house, flung open a door and she found herself in a vast kitchen where Mrs. Meikle was busily banging pots and pans about on a stove. She turned bellicosely, hands on hips, as they entered. 'Well, I'm about ready to go. I've put on a pot of broth for Mr. Carmichael— not that he deserves it, for he's fairly been a real old devil, but never let it be said that Christina Meikle neglected her duties. The carrier's coming for my things any moment now, so I'll go and put on my hat, if you've no objection,' she concluded with elaborate sarcasm. 'Perhaps you'll have time to show Elizabeth around before the carrier comes,' Kerr remarked suavely. Mrs. Meikle regarded him stolidly for a long moment before turning to Elizabeth. 'So you've decided to stay! Well, all I can say is you're right daft. You'll be at the beck and call of the old man morning, noon and night and run off your feet forby. I wouldnae say you'll stick the job for long, from the looks of you. You needn't

expect any gratitude here for you willnae get it.' She darted a venomous glance in Kerr's direction. It was time she made it clear she had no intention of staying, Elizabeth decided. 'Oh, I'm not—' she began. But Kerr broke in. 'Just show Elizabeth around, like a good woman,' he told the housekeeper. 'And spare us the departing speeches.' 'What I've had to put up with in this house passes speaking about,' Mrs. Meikle continued undeterred, rolling her eyes angrily. 'And I pity from the bottom my heart anyone who steps into my shoes.' While Mrs. Meikle recounted her sufferings in the Carmichael household, Elizabeth took the opportunity of surveying her surroundings. The kitchen must be very old, she surmised, with its uneven slate-covered floor and huge fireplace and spit which must, in olden days, have roasted many a side of venison and baron of prime Scottish beef. An open dresser of time- blackened wood held an assortment of everyday crockery and a display of small wooden bowls that were worn with generations of scouring. Her covert inspection had not gone unnoticed by the housekeeper. 'Do you think,' she demanded shrilly, 'that you're going to be able to take over this old- fashioned place with a slate floor that for ever needs scrubbing and all them stairs to be climbed and the oil lamps that have to be trimmed forby? I don't see your ladyship settling down here, and that's a fact,' she concluded contemptuously. Elizabeth swung around, determined to inform Kerr in no uncertain terms that she had no intention of remaining, only to find to her dismay that he had disappeared.

Now that they were alone together, the housekeeper's manner softened slightly. 'Well, if you're determined to stay there's no sense in not letting you know what you're in for. Take that old scrumdudgeon, Mr. Carmichael, for instance, he likes his porridge made with plenty of salt and served up in a coggie, so don't you forget that on any account.' 'A coggie?' Elizabeth inquired blankly. 'Yes, one of they wooden bowls on the dresser. Nothing else will do him, although they belong to olden times and they're a real nuisance to clean. Then he's partial to cockaleekie soup and black bun. You can make they things, no doubt?' She eyed Elizabeth suspiciously. Elizabeth shook her head. 'No, I'm afraid I can't,' she admitted meekly. For an instant Mrs. Meikle looked astounded, then shrugged resignedly. 'Oh well, we can't expect an English lassie to know they things. But I'd better show you the rest of the house and get it over, for the carrier will be here before we know where we are.' She hustled from the room, leaving Elizabeth to follow her. They ascended a winding staircase to the first floor where the housekeeper flung open a door and drew back to let Elizabeth enter. She gave a little gasp of pleasure at the sight that met her eyes. Nothing she had previously seen in the house had led her to expect this, for it was a perfect Regency room. On the bare floor stood small pieces of furniture with slender straight legs. Her eye was caught by a drum table and a small bureau that might have been Sheraton or Chippendale. A delicate glass chandelier hung from the centre of the ceiling which was ornamented with detailed

plasterwork. Somehow the room seemed too fine and elegantly finished in comparison to the rest of the house, and she felt puzzled and intrigued by its perfection. The housekeeper, seeing her obvious admiration, said grudgingly, 'Aye, it's a bonnie room all right. I heard tell there's some sort of story about it from bygone days, but I've better things to do than to listen to such havers.' Noticing the film of dust that lay over the furniture, Elizabeth wondered if Mrs. Meikle was as devoted to her duties as she so virtuously protested. Rapidly they toured the rest of the house which was furnished mostly with solid Victorian pieces. Nowhere else did she find that quality of delicacy that had so aroused her interest in the Regency room. The last room they inspected was Kerr's, which, Elizabeth decided, was expressive of the man with its large brass bed and Spartan furnishings. The sight of her employer's bedroom seemed to reawaken all Mrs. Meikle's ire. She sniffed angrily as she straightened the bedspread. 'If you ask me, Mr. Kerr's worse than his grandfather; very highand- mighty; thinks a body has nothing better to do than to wait upon him hand and foot; throws his things about his bedroom and expects somebody else to pick them up. Then down he comes to the kitchen at the crack of dawn, looking for his breakfast before he goes off taking the rich folk fishing and sailing in that boat of his. Oh, there's plenty of well-to-do come to Kirkloch in the summer and hire out boats for fishing and heaven knows what else besides. There's one young lassie in particular—Linnet Peters, they call her—and a brazen hussy; she's no better than she ought to be,

if you ask me. Up she comes from Edinburgh and goes off sailing with him for days at a time. They say her father is a rich millowner who can afford to let her go gallivanting around—although what she sees in Kerr Carmichael is beyond me. Goodness knows what goes on when they're off together! Up to no good, I've no doubt!' Their tour ended in a vast pantry well stocked with provisions, but it also was slate-floored and had a grilled window from which the view was of a patch of barren moorland. This was certainly not the type of job Elizabeth had envisaged when she had qualified; she had looked forward to working with the most up-to-date equipment and in the most hygienic surroundings. Not, of course, that she considered for a moment filling the vacancy left by the departing Mrs. Meikle! No, in spite of its old-world charm, this was utterly impossible, she decided, as she looked at the many storerooms that ran along a passage outside the kitchen door. She would find Kerr Carmichael, inform him of her decision and have him return her to the Rob Roy without delay. It was at this point that there came the sound of a horn being blown in the yard outside the kitchen. 'That'll be the West Highland carrier now,' exclaimed Mrs. Meikle as she darted away. Not knowing where to find the elusive Kerr, Elizabeth stood uncertainly in the doorway of the kitchen while Mrs. Meikle saw to the removal of a large trunk. Shortly after its departure a taxi drew up in the same spot and Mrs. Meikle, now neatly attired in a brown tweed coat with fur collar and matching hat, descended the

stairs, got in and with a brief and perfunctory wave of farewell, was driven away. 'So the witch flies off on her broomstick and everyone lives happy ever afterwards!' With a little gasp, Elizabeth swung around to find Kerr standing at her shoulder, hands in pockets surveying the departing taxi. 'As to living happy ever after,' she remarked coldly, 'I should imagine things would be pretty uncomfortable without a housekeeper, considering your undomesticated habits.' 'Aha, so old Meikle has been tale-tattling!' he exclaimed blandly. 'But don't let her influence you, Liza. You'll be amazed to find how co-operative I can be.' 'It doesn't make the smallest difference to me whether you're cooperative or not! I've no intention of staying.' 'Why not ? I thought you said you were looking for a job. Here's one already made for you, what could be more desirable? A quaint old farmhouse set in some of Scotland's finest scenery. Really, Liza, you're completely incomprehensible. Your arrival here was something more than a coincidence. You need a job; we need a housekeeper!' 'If you think I've the slightest intention of taking on this place you're vastly mistaken,' she assured him. 'I must say my sympathies are all with Mrs. Meikle. You've no idea of what it must be like to work in a kitchen like this with no modern equipment whatsover. But then, of course, you wouldn't know anything about that, would you ?' she concluded acidly.

'So it's just what I suspected! You do see yourself in a frilly apron surrounded by gleaming gadgets, with washing machines, and electric grinders and knife-sharpeners and percolators, all worked by press button.' In spite of her anger at his cool assumption that she would be willing to take on this impossible house- household, she could barely restrain a giggle at this fanciful picture of herself. 'I didn't expect a computerised establishment,' she exclaimed, 'but the kitchen is positively primitive!' 'And are you frightened of the primitive, Liza?' he asked quietly. There could be no mistaking the meaning behind his remark, and Elizabeth glanced away, uncomfortably aware of this tall, broadshouldered man so close beside her, his rakish clothes giving him the appearance of a freebooter of olden days. He would be every bit as ruthless and daring as any of his Highland antecedents, she thought fleetingly, men who had recklessly forfeited their homes and lands in the hopeless cause of the young and gallant Prince Charlie. 'There's nothing more to be said,' she told him hastily. 'I don't want to talk about it.' 'Naturally you don't! It's always unpleasant to realise one's a failure.' She looked at him, startled. 'A failure ? I don't know what you mean.' 'I think you do. What you're really saying is that you won't accept a job unless it comes up to your very exacting standards.' Before she could reply he caught her hands and holding them palms upwards

studied them closely. 'Just look at those hands! Soft and white and ladylike! They've never done a day's work in their lives—and what's more, you never intend them to!' 'That's a lie!' she flared, furiously pulling her hands from his grasp. 'I don't need to work like a galley- slave to prove anything to you. When I do take a job it will be in reasonably civilised surroundings. Now will you kindly take me back to the Rob Roy?' Without answering, he negligently pulled up a kitchen chair and straddling it, regarded her thoughtfully. 'I'm not aware of being under any onus to take you to the Rob Roy—or anywhere else for that matter,' he told her coolly. 'Granted, I pulled you out of the loch and I am of course willing to return you to the same spot and pop you back in again if you so desire. But it just so happens that I don't particularly feel like restoring you to the Rob Roy. Were I to do so who can tell what you would do next ? No doubt you're capable of being foolish enough to go out again with that fellow— Reggie, I think you called him— and who knows, next time he happens to lose you overboard I may not be conveniently at hand to fish you out.' There was a lazy contempt in his voice that infuriated Elizabeth. She clenched her fists and faced him. 'Yes, since it seems to be of interest to you, I do intend to go out again with Reggie Latham, should he ask me. He's gentle and considerate and—and—' 'And a gentleman,' he concluded drily. 'Yes, a gentleman, and as much unlike you as it's possible for a man to be. And what's more, if you won't take me back to the hotel, I'll go myself!' 'You mean you'll sail the Birlinn ?' he asked blandly.

'No, of course not, but I could take a taxi, or a bus—5 'Sailing is the most direct way there from Brae House,' he told her, 'but yes, there is a bus. However, the next one passes early tomorrow morning/ 'Oh!' Somehow this information made her realise clearly for the first time how far from the beaten track Brae House must be. 'Look, Liza, why don't you admit it? It's not the kitchen, or Brae House itself, or the fact that my grandfather can be a bit sharptongued at times, that really daunts you.' 'It isn't ?' She stared at him in wide-eyed bewilderment. 'What on earth are you talking about ?' 'I think, deep down, you've a pretty good idea. Let's face it, Liza, I'm the one you're afraid of. Isn't that so?' 'Why—why—' She felt her face crimson at the effrontery of the man. Did Kerr Carmichael seriously think she feared him? She struggled to find words sufficiently scathing. But before she could gather her resources, he got to his feet with a deep sigh. 'On second thoughts, it might be as well if I took you back. It wouldn't be fair to keep you here against your will. You'll feel so much more at home in the genteel chatter of the lounge and the gentle chink of teacups. Then again, you'll have the opportunity of making friends with well-to-do fellows in yachting caps who hire gleaming white cruisers and behave like perfect gentlemen. And now, if you're ready, I'll take you down to the Birlinn and restore you to the bosom of your friends.'

CHAPTER FOUR HE turned towards the door, but Elizabeth held her ground. 'How dare you say I'm afraid of you! You know it's not true,' she demanded between clenched teeth. He paused and turning, regarded her with raised brows. 'I know nothing of the sort! But Fm willing to put it to the test if you are.' Anger made her lose all sense of caution. She nodded her head vigorously. 'It's utterly ridiculous to suggest—' 'All right, all right! This is what I propose—that you take on Brae House for, say, a week. I dare you to stay for a single week. It would be interesting to see what you'd make of it for that space of time.' She hesitated nonplussed as the realisation of what she was letting herself in for struck her. But the temptation to throw his jibes in his face was too much. 'Very well, I'll show you—but for one week only, remember.' 'Certainly, not a moment longer,' he agreed blandly. 'You're the most insufferable person it has ever been my misfortune to come across,' she exclaimed, her eyes flashing. 'Exactly my opinion of you,' he returned. 'And now that that's settled I'll go and fetch your things from the Rob Roy.' When he had gone she stood for a moment gazing blankly around the kitchen. How on earth had she allowed herself to become enmeshed in such an intolerable position? For now it was only too clear to her that he had deliberately inveigled her into a trap. Well, she would show him! She would run the house so efficiently that

when the end of the week approached and he was congratulating himself upon his cleverness and perhaps telling himself that his good fortune was to continue, she would march out and leave him flat. She set herself to prepare the most delicious meal she could devise. Going to the larder, she threw open the door and inspected the contents. Food was plentiful; obviously Mrs. Meikle had not stinted when it came to ordering supplies. She would make a steak- and-kidney pie, she decided. She collected the ingredients and laid them out on one of the big kitchen tables. The kitchen might be old-fashioned, but there was plenty of space, the copper pots were satisfyingly heavy. The old black stove too, although it burned beech logs glowed with a steady heat. The sink was of stained brown earthenware, but the water gushed hot from the tap. When she eventually took the pie from the oven and gazed with satisfaction at the rich golden crust it struck her with something like disappointment that, as Kerr had gone to the hotel for her luggage, he wouldn't be returning until late that evening. Old Mr. Carmichael, however, did ample justice to it and when he had cleared his plate he sat back and surveyed her with approval. 'It's many a long day since I've eaten a meal like that. You make a steak-and-kidney pie in the real old-fashioned way. None of yon trashy sauces out of the bottles, I'm glad to see. Mind you, I didn't think you'd take the job on, because this is a hard place for a young girl, but I suppose that grandson of mine got round you. He has a way with the lassies, so I hear.' 'Has he really ?' Elizabeth said stiffly as she gathered the dishes together.

Old Alasdair glanced at her slyly as he lit his pipe. 'You sound as if you don't think so much of him.' 'No, I don't,' Elizabeth returned almost sulkily. 'Actually I had no intention of staying on, but he tricked me into it.' The old man chuckled. 'Yes, he has a bit of the devil in him, has Kerr. I expect he inherits it from the Carmichaels of olden days, for it seems there were rievers in the family although, mind you, it's not something we boast about.' 'Rievers?' she asked curiously. 'Aye. The rievers were roving bands that went about the countryside plundering as the fancy took them. Outlaws, I suppose you might call them.' Yes, Elizabeth thought acidly, it would be quite easy to imagine Kerr of the piercing blue eyes as a ruthless plunderer if the mood should take him. Well, she'd be on her guard as far as he was concerned and not allow herself to be deceived by his air of quizzical detachment. After all, she had already got an instance of how ruthless he could be when it came to getting his own way. She had all too easily fallen into his trap. She would be more cautious in future dealings with the man. When she had seen old Alasdair settled comfortably in his armchair by the fire she returned to the kitchen and washed up the dishes. The next few hours she spent in bringing some order into her surroundings, for Mrs. Meikle, in spite of her air of efficiency, seemed to have been an extremely sloppy and careless housekeeper.

It was dark when Kerr returned and Elizabeth, feeling tired and dishevelled after her exertions, planked the remainder of the pie down before him on the dining-room table in a marked silence. Exasperatingly, he appeared to be unaware of her disapproval and consumed his meal with an air of abstraction, as though lost in his own thoughts. Afterwards he came into the kitchen to announce that he had taken her luggage up to her room. 'Thanks,' Elizabeth sniffed. 'You seem to have been pretty sure I'd be here when you got back. Did it not occur to you that I might have second thoughts?' He leaned against one of the kitchen tables and surveyed her coolly. 'No, I hadn't the slightest doubt about your being here when I got back.' 'You appear to be clairvoyant,' Elizabeth told him sarcastically. 'No, it's simply that I know you better than you think.' Then, before she had time to digest this, he crossed to a shelf which held an array of oil lamps. He lit one with a taper from the fire. 'I'll show you up to your room. You're not used to the steps here yet. They're old and some of them are uneven. Perhaps I should tell you that our electricity is inclined to be fitful, especially during dry weather, and the river is low at present. We have to make do with oil lamps at such times, which are messy things to clean. However, you're quite capable of managing, I'm sure.' 'I'm quite sure I shall,' she told him icily, as they went up the creaking stairs. True, she had never used oil lamps before, but then she should be able to cope, especially when it was only for one

week, as she was careful to inform him, emphasising the final two words. 'Yes, of course,' he agreed equably. 'But who knows, you may marry a farmer in some remote part of the country and find your ability to use oil lamps a useful accomplishment.' He was mocking her, she knew, and as he paused on the upper hall outside the Regency room she made a pretence of glancing through the open door in an effort to disguise her discomfiture. He stepped into the doorway and held the lamp aloft so' that the room was bathed in a soft golden light that enhanced the delicate furniture and the exquisite brocade upholstery. 'Seems a bit out of keeping with the rest of Brae House, doesn't it?' His face was shadowed, but she knew he was no longer mocking. 'You see, the Carmichaels weren't always poor, but we sided with the Stuarts in the Rising and afterwards the Hanoverian soldiers set fire to the original building. Seeing that it was gutted the Carmichael of the time had it pulled down and the present house erected on its site. You see, he was a realist; he knew that the great days of the Carmichaels were over and that such times would never come again for the family.' 'So the Carmichaels took to rieving? Was that it?' He gave a peal of genuinely amused laughter. 'So Grandfather has been telling tales and revealing the skeletons in our closet! Do you know, I think he's rather proud of our raiding ancestors. In fact, he rather admires them.' 'And do you?' she asked swiftly.

For a long moment there was silence. It was impossible for her to see his face clearly or to read its expression. 'Let's say,' he replied slowly, 'that I'm not sentimental. I think that a man should go for what he wants, no holds barred.' 'Yes, that doesn't surprise me,' she told him disdainfully. 'There's a story in connection with the furnishings of this room,' he remarked. 'Do you want to hear it ?' 'They were plunder, perhaps,' Elizabeth said dryly. 'On the contrary, this particular ancestor of mine had a romantic streak in his character. He engaged a French lady of quality, a rather destitute lady of noble family who had come down in the world, as governess to his children. When his wife died, he married her. Heloise was her name. But poor Heloise found it difficult after the elegance of her former way of life in France to accommodate herself to the ways of Brae House. It seems she longed for a touch of refinement, so her husband sent away for the finest furniture of the period and had it brought here all the way overland by horse-drawn carriage, which in those days was quite a feat. She used to sit here in the gloomy evenings softly playing to herself on the spinet.' Elizabeth found it hard not to give a little shiver in the dark shadowed room where the soft harp-like notes of the spinet seemed to quiver in the air touched by ghostly fingers. 'You see, she had an indulgent husband, Liza. We're not all rievers and outlaws. In fact, I imagine that I too, under similar circumstances, would be equally indulgent to my wife, especially if she were a lady used to better things, someone unfamiliar with

slate floors and cooking at ancient stoves and trimming messy oil lamps.' So he was mocking her again! Indignantly she pushed past him and stood in the upper hall facing him. 'Perhaps you'll be good enough to point out my room to me. I'm quite capable of reaching it myself,' she said coldly. 'No, I'd better light your lamp for you, because it's perfectly obvious that you haven't a notion how to do it.' As he spoke he threw open a door. Elizabeth glanced around; the bed looked comfortable and the room was well furnished with a thick carpet and long curtains of dark crimson chenille. He crossed to a small table upon which stood a lamp with a shade of ruby glass and put a match to the double wick. Immediately a warm cosy glow was thrown around the room. 'Well, there you are,' he announced, adjusting the wick. 'If you get into difficulties, give me a shout. I'm next door, by the way.' 'Thanks,' she said stiffly, 'but I feel quite capable of turning out the lamp. It shouldn't be too difficult, even for someone as inept as I am,' she added with heavy sarcasm. He grinned at her, showing his strong, white teeth. 'Do you know, Liza, if you didn't glare so fiercely you'd look positively pretty in this rosy glow.' 'You seem to forget,' she informed him coldly, 'that I'm merely the housekeeper here, not one of your lassies.'

'Ah, so Granddad has been telling stories!' 'He seems to have the impression that you're irresistible to women,' Elizabeth told him bitingly. 'And you, it appears, don't share his fond illusion!' 'No, I don't,' she told him furiously. 'I think you deliberately tricked me into staying here!' 'What if I did?' he demanded, his voice suddenly brusque. 'Do you take me for a namby-pamby, like your boy-friend Reggie ? Get this straight, Liza, when I want a thing I go for it head-on. I don't let any stupid conventions stand in my way. You see, I'm not a gentleman, like dear Reggie.' Elizabeth laughed shortly. 'That's fairly obvious.' 'By the way,' he continued with one of those sudden changes of front which made him such an infuriating antagonist, 'once Reggie had ascertained that you were safe and sound he appeared remarkably indifferent to your fate. In fact I gathered that it was extremely unlikely he'd gallop up bent on rescuing you from fiendish Kerr Carmichael.' Elizabeth tried to hide her disappointment that Reggie had apparently not evinced any particular interest in her plans for the future or her present whereabouts. She was also aware that Kerr, although he appeared not to do so, was studying her reactions. 'Perhaps I shouldn't have told you,' he remarked casually. 'It's not the sort of news a girl likes to hear, especially last thing at night.' 'And why not?' Elizabeth asked coldly.

'Because, I fancy, it's not particularly soothing to a girl's vanity and might keep you awake.' 'That's hardly likely—especially as I'm not particularly interested in Reggie's reactions,' she replied. 'Well, I'm glad to know that. I'd hate to think I'd been responsible for giving you a wakeful night,' he remarked with an air of unconvincing repentance. 'Sleep tight, Liza,' he called softly as he closed the door behind him. When he had gone Elizabeth unpacked her cases, which she found neatly stacked in a corner of the room. As she hung up her clothes in the wardrobe she felt a sense of satisfaction; they were well cut and of the best materials. At least while she was at Brae House she would not go short in the variety of her outfits. Then when she was finished and was closing the wardrobe doors she realised that her duties at Brae House would hardly call for an elaborate display of fashion. She remembered the slate floors and the old kitchen with its ancient stove and copper pots. What she really needed at Brae House was a supply of aprons and these were articles she had certainly not packed for her holiday. Oh well, perhaps she might find an old one of Mrs. Meikle's tucked away somewhere downstairs. All the same, the realisation of the life that lay before her for the next week was somewhat daunting. Thoughtfully she wandered over to one of the windows and pulled back the heavy curtains. A full moon floating serenely in the sky shone like a still pool of quicksilver and the mountains against the sky were like rich dark velvet, their peaks, by some trick of light, were touched by a faint flamingo-pink glow. A night-bird gave an eerie raucous cry as it sped through the deserted skies, and Elizabeth gave- a little shiver.

Why on earth had she accepted Kerr Carmichael's challenge? She had fallen so easily into his carefully baited trap. How well he had guessed that her pride would force her into acceptance! He had needed a housekeeper badly and she had conveniently been at hand and, as he himself had admitted, he usually got what he wanted and was not too particular about how he accomplished his object. No doubt he imagined he would find means to keep her beyond the stipulated week until he found someone suitable to replace her. If that was so he was in for a surprise, because the instant her time was up she would walk out of Brae House. She felt a growing satisfaction as she imagined his predicament as he came to realise that she was adamant. He was evidently not accustomed to having women resist him. She remembered his grandfather's words, 'He has a way with the lassies.' Well, here was one lassie who had no intention of succumbing to his blandishments! She drew the curtains again and crossed to her bed. Swiftly she undressed and slipped into one of the pretty rose-pink, laceembroidered nightdresses which had seemed so suitable in her luxurious bedroom at the Rob Roy, but now seemed a trifle incongruous in this room with its brass bed with its bulging feather mattress and old-fashioned furnishings. Carefully she turned the wick of the lamp low until there was a soft soothing pool of light in the dark shadowed room. The feather mattress was soft and cosy, but, tired as she was, she found it impossible to sleep. All sorts of thoughts came flitting through her head in disconnected, confusing pictures. Once more she was on the White Lady and relived the terror of being plunged into the icy-cold, turbulent waters; she could see Kerr's face as he stared down at her before her rescue; then she was on the Birlinn, dazed and shaken by the nightmare qualities of her experiences.

She sat up suddenly with a jerk. It was useless trying to sleep. If only she had a book or magazine! She got out of bed and searched her cases, but whatever member of the Rob Roy staff had packed them had not bothered to include the pile of paperbacks that she had kept beside her bed. She made a perfunctory search of the drawers and cupboards in the room, but except for an old and yellowed farming journal she found nothing remotely readable. Then she remembered the large bookcase she had seen in the sitting-room. If she was quiet and watched her steps carefully on the worn treads of the stairway she could fetch a book and no one would be the wiser. She slid her feet into mules and pulled on a negligee that matched her nightdress, then picking up the lamp gently opened the door. Carefully she tiptoed past Kerr's door, holding her breath as a loose board squeaked protestingly. She stood with bated breath, but as silence reigned, she continued, went downstairs and crossed the hall to the sitting-room. Moonlight flooded the room with an eerie and ghostly light as she pushed open the door. Holding the lamp high, she made her way to the bookcase and opened the glass-panelled door. Instantly disappointment filled her, as her eyes scanned the shelves because they seemed to be filled with old, leather-bound volumes dealing with learned subjects that were incomprehensible to her. There were also bound copies of the farming journal she had discovered in her room and a book of sermons and volumes of Scottish poetry, written in the old Scots dialect which she found impossible to decipher. She was on the point of giving up when she noticed in the corner of an upper shelf a little pile of school exercise-books. Curiosity made her reach them down. They had belonged to Kerr

Carmichael, she discovered, because on the first page of each his name was written in a round unformed hand. She riffled through the pages with a sense of discovery. One of the books contained an essay entitled, 'A Day in the Country' which she found particularly revealing. In it the boy that Kerr Carmichael had been wrote with acute perception of the countryside, the animals and wild life that surrounded him. In another essay his love of boats was revealed with almost lyrical intensity. She read on with eagerness, feeling a strange and guilty excitement, as though she was prying into a side of his character that he would now prefer to keep hidden. As she was returning them to the shelf a photograph fell from between the loose leaves. When she picked it up she discovered it to be a school group—rows of well-scrubbed little boys in serried ranks, all dressed in their best clothes and all staring eagerly at the camera. Her eyes scanned them with growing excitement; among these children, she knew, would be the youthful Kerr Carmichael. And then she saw him—second from the left in the back row— there could be no mistaking him, for already he had the piercing, intent gaze, firm moulded lips and hint of recklessness about the well-defined jaw. He wore his school cap at a rakish angle and, unlike the other boys, regarded the camera with an expression of quizzical detachment. Hastily she replaced it between the leaves. It had not been intended that she should see these revealing mementoes and she suspected they had been preserved, no doubt against Kerr's wishes, by his grandfather. Then she noticed a volume, unmistakably up-to- date in its attractive book-jacket; it was an account of a journey through the Highlands. She decided to take it with her and closing the bookcase, tucked the book under her arm and retraced her steps.

With a sigh of relief she closed her bedroom door behind her, placed the lamp on her small bedside table, and got into bed. She plumped up the enormous down pillows and when she was comfortable opened her trophy. To her surprise she saw written on the fly-leaf in a wide girlish hand, 'To Kerr, with love from Linnet'. This must be the Linnet Peters Mrs. Meikle had mentioned, she surmised and she began to read with heightened interest. The book was well written and absorbing with finely delineated descriptions and cameos of typical Highland characters. When her lids began to droop she decided it was time to lie down. It was then she noticed a sheet of paper protruding from between the pages, like a bookmark. She pulled it out and found it was a letter written on deckle-edged paper. It too was in the sprawling slanted handwriting of Linnet Peters. Involuntarily Elizabeth's eyes scanned the lines. 'Dear Kerr,' it began, 'I hope you will like this book as much as I did. I admit the part that appealed to me most was the description of Morar strand. It brought it all so vividly back to me, the strange silver sands where we spent that wonderful, wonderful evening. Do you remember that enchanted moment, just as the sun sank and we were so very close ? I often think of it. I shall be returning to Kirkloch after Easter and look forward to it so much. Do you feel, as I do, that it would be fun to pick up where we left off and relive some of those marvellous days once more? Your loving Linnet.' The name was a wild dash across the page. A postscript followed in tiny, almost microscopic lettering, as though the writer was endeavouring to keep the message a secret between herself and the recipient. Wild horses could not have

prevented Elizabeth from trying to decipher it. She turned the lamp higher, until the flame licked up through the glass globe, and held the letter close to the light—too close, for instantly the flame caught the corner and it flared up. It happened with such startling suddenness that Elizabeth gave a scream of alarm and, panic-stricken, flung the blazing paper from her. It floated on to the carpet, still blazing. And now clouds of dark, choking fumes were belching from the oil-lamp and Elizabeth sat rigid, too panic-stricken to take any action. It was then that the door crashed open and Kerr burst into the room. His eyes swept the scene; then, in a moment, he stamped out the flames in the burning paper and lowered the smoking lamp. 'What on earth happened?' he demanded. But she didn't answer. She was watching with trepidation as he bent and retrieved what remained of the letter. She saw his face darken ominously as he read the decipherable portion. 'This is mine! Or did you not notice ? I think I know now what happened. You were too busy prying into what didn't concern you to notice the lamp was dangerously high!' 'I couldn't sleep,' she began defensively. 'Then I remembered the bookcase downstairs and I thought I'd fetch something—' 'Well, you certainly succeeded in getting something that held your interest. In fact, you found it so absorbing that you might have set the entire building on fire,' he told her scathingly. 'I didn't know about the letter until after—'

'But you couldn't resist reading it, could you ? How typical of a woman! You were determined to satisfy your curiosity, even if it meant impertinently intruding on matters that don't concern you.' Seeing how his eyes glittered angrily the thought flashed through her mind that he must care for Linnet deeply. Otherwise why should he resent so strongly her having read Linnet's effusive letter? He felt, it was clear, that a sacred portion of his life had been violated by what she now felt was a shameful and contemptible curiosity on her part. She shrank back into her pillows, wishing that she could disappear completely from sight. Then his rage, as sudden as a summer squall, disappeared as rapidly, to be replaced by an icy regard that somehow was even harder to endure. 'You'd be wise not to spend the night reading,' he informed her. 'I get up early and naturally I'll expect you to prepare my breakfast.' Elizabeth nodded mutely, too crushed to put up any opposition. Before he left the room she saw, with mixed feelings, how he tucked the fragment of the letter into the pocket of his dressinggown. Then the door crashed behind him and she was left to her thoughts.

CHAPTER FIVE THE sound of the tinkling of the alarm on her little travelling clock awoke Elizabeth on the following morning. For a moment she lay in the dim light of dawn, dazed and puzzled by her surroundings. This was not her- bedroom at the Rob Roy with its light modern furniture; no pleasant-mannered maid would enter bearing a laden breakfast tray. Instead, she must face that dismal vault of a kitchen, start a fire in the stove, then begin to prepare breakfast. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. It seemed such a short time since she had fallen asleep and she felt an overwhelming longing to turn over and go back to sleep again. But she was fiercely determined not to be late on her first morning's work at Brae House. She got out of bed, groped her way to one of the windows and pulled aside the curtains. To her dismay the morning in the dim light of dawn was dismal and depressing. The scene too- was not as beautiful as it had seemed in the glow of evening light. She found the matches on her bedside table and lifting the chimney of the lamp carefully lit the double wick. She washed in the bathroom which was conveniently near but, like everything else in the house, was old-fashioned; in spite of its obsolete plumbing, however, the water was satisfactorily hot. Elizabeth completed her toilette by coiling her hair into a high businesslike knot on top of her head and put on the plainest of the dresses she had brought with her. There was sufficient light now from the windows running along one side of the corridor for her to be able to dispense with the lamp as she tiptoed past Kerr's room and carefully descended the stairs. When she reached the kitchen she lit the lamp which hung from a

rafter in the ceiling and set to work at full speed. She remembered Mrs. Meikle's complaint about Kerr's habit of arriving in the kitchen at an inconveniently early hour, and the last thing she wanted was to be caught napping on this her first morning at Brae House. She found kindling and wood in a basket beside the stove and to her relief, in spite of its dour and mulish appearance, it caught fire quickly and soon was crackling merrily. She put on the porridge, careful to see that it was free of lumps and placed the kettle on the stove. Looking about the kitchen, she noticed how comfortless it appeared and she decided that the breakfast table near one of the windows looked particularly dreary with its covering of worn old oilcloth. She searched in the drawers in the dresser until she discovered a pile of crisp white damask tablecloths and delicately embroidered tea-cloths. Obviously they had never been used and Elizabeth could well imagine the dour Mrs. Meikle disdaining such refinements in her kitchen. She selected a small cloth of thick white linen and when she had removed the dingy and faded oilcloth, spread its crisp folds on the shining surface of the small table. She had already decided to use the bone-china tea-service she had discovered tucked away at the back of the dresser. Like the linen it had the appearance of having been seldom if ever used. No doubt Mrs. Meikle had considered that to use the pink- garlanded china would be a ridiculous and unnecessary affectation. When she had set the table she surveyed the results critically; it looked fresh and inviting, she decided, but a vase of flowers would perhaps complete the effect. She remembered the clumps of wild daffodils she had noticed on the previous day as they had

approached the house : their pale yellow freshness would give a finishing touch to the table. When she had reassured herself that the porridge was cooking gently on the stove, she went out through the back door. Gunna was lying at the entrance to an outhouse, his head resting on his paws. When he saw her, he pricked his ears and bounced to his feet, his plumy tail wagging ecstatically at the prospect of human company. He ran ahead as she made her way to the front of the house, looking back frequently with bright eyes to assure himself that she was following. Quickly she gathered a large bunch; the blossoms felt wonderfully cool and fresh and drops of dew glittered on the pale buttercoloured trumpets. For a moment she paused, holding them close to her cheek. The sky was lighter now and the loch had the sheen of mother-o'-pearl on its smooth surface. Behind the house the hills looked like ruffled, antique velvet and in the still, clear, herbscented air, she heard the bleat of far-off sheep. She stood lost in dreamy reverie feeling for the first time since she had come to Brae House neither doubtful nor apprehensive, but simply enjoying the wonderful beauty and tranquillity of her surroundings. Gunna flopped down at her feet, his pink tongue hanging out, his bright, intelligent eyes fixed on her knowingly as though fully sharing her enjoyment. When she returned to the kitchen she was relieved to see that Kerr had not yet appeared on the scene. She hunted around for a vase and at length found a pretty, cut-glass one, shaped like a goblet; it was extremely grimy and Elizabeth carefully washed it with warm

soapsuds before she arranged the flowers. Then she turned to and polished the huge oval silver- plated dish-covers that hung against the whitewashed walls. Relics of the days when Brae House had had many servants scurrying about, they were evidently now intended rather as ornaments than for any practical purpose. Mrs. Meikle had obviously considered it a waste of her time to keep them untarnished, but Elizabeth felt great satisfaction when, as she finished, she stood back to survey her efforts. The stove crackled brightly, casting ruddy lights on the wide silver covers. The early morning sun was beginning to cast its rays through the kitchen windows, splintering on the crystal vase and showering diamond lights on the snowy tablecloth. On the stove the porridge bubbled gently and steam puffed from the huge kettle. It was as she stood complacently contemplating her handiwork that she heard the sound of footsteps outside the kitchen door. Quickly she moved to the stove and began to stir the porridge-pot energetically. The last thing she wanted was that Kerr Carmichael should get any inkling of how energetically she had worked to achieve this air of order and comfort in the old kitchen. As she bent over the stove she was acutely aware of Kerr pausing in the doorway. For a long moment he stood in silence, then gave a low whistle of appreciation. 'Well, well, who'd have thought it! The glaistig has obviously been at work!' With the wooden porridge spoon in her hand, Elizabeth turned, a little disconcerted at this reception of her efforts. 'The glaistig?' she queried blankly. He nodded, and rubbing his hands briskly, crossed to the table and planked himself down. 'Yes, nearly every Scottish family worth its salt has its glaistig, a sort of fairy creature who attaches herself to

the house and sees to all sorts of jobs, like getting the cattle in on a murky day, or washing up the dishes or seeing to the household linen. However, she's seen only occasionally by mortal eyes as she does her work mainly by night. Some say she's a little woman with long yellow hair, others who claim to have seen her say she's a lump of a lassie, which under the circumstances is hardly complimentary.' 'You seem to know quite a number of folk tales,' Elizabeth told him tartly. 'And by the way, do you want your porridge in a coggie?' He raised his eyebrows inquiringly. 'Heavens, no! What on earth made you ask?' 'You seem so interested in old Scottish traditions,' she replied drily. 'All the same, I draw the line at wooden coggies.' Elizabeth sniffed and dished the porridge into a pottery bowl. Somehow Kerr's reactions to her efforts had not been quite what she had expected. She placed a jug of cream on the table and planked the bowl before him. 'I hope you find everything to your satisfaction,' she said stiffly. He helped himself to cream and taking a spoonful of porridge tasted it with maddening deliberation. 'Um. Yes. It's quite delicious. Absolutely lumpless and as unlike old Meikle's version as it's possible for porridge to be.' 'Thanks,' Elizabeth returned shortly.

He seemed, however, sublimely unaware of her seething indignation as he glanced comprehensively about the kitchen while she slapped bacon in the frying pan. 'You know, on second thoughts, Liza, I've come to the conclusion that this transformation is all your own unaided work and that you haven't had the nocturnal help of a glaistig.' 'I can't imagine how you've come to that conclusion,' Elizabeth said scathingly. Kerr helped himself to another spoon of porridge before answering. 'It's quite possible,' he pursued, 'that a glaistig polished the dish-covers and performed some of the other more mundane jobs, but she would certainly draw the line at arranging vases of flowers and setting out the best china. You see, they believe in doing their duty, but they're not interested in creating an impression.' There could be no mistaking the dryness in his tone and Elizabeth felt her cheeks flame. So this was how he was interpreting her efforts to brighten up the kitchen and make it more attractive—as an ostentatious attempt to display her ability to make the best of poor materials! 'So you think I've gone to all this trouble, just to show off?' she spluttered. 'Let's say you were anxious to let me see just how competent you are—which, when you come to think of it, is rather a waste of time, since you don't intend staying here.' 'I most certainly don't,' Elizabeth burst out furiously, as she dumped a plate of rashers and eggs in front of him. 'If I'd known how you'd take it, I'd have left things exactly as they were !

Evidently you prefer Mrs. Meikle's methods, and I was a fool to waste my time on the kitchen.' He caught her wrist before she could withdraw her hand. 'Easy does it, Liza,' he said softly in that deep wheedling tone it was so difficult to resist. 'I haven't said I object to your titivating the kitchen.' 'That's exactly what you implied,' she returned. 'You're jumping to conclusions! Have I at any time suggested I object to the changes you have made ? On the contrary, I think it's a vast improvement. That old witch, Mrs. Meikle, didn't go in for the refinements of life, and here, in a completely male household, she had things entirely her own way.' 'It seems to me,' Elizabeth returned, pulling her wrist angrily from his grasp, 'that you much prefer her methods.' 'Look, Liza, as far as I'm concerned, you can do exactly what you desire with the house. Make any changes you feel necessary and I promise I won't interfere. I'll creep about, like—well, let's say, like a mouse.' The idea of the burly Kerr creeping about like a mouse brought an unwilling smile to her lips. 'Do I actually detect a smile?' he inquired with exaggerated astonishment. 'Somehow I don't find the idea of your creeping about like a mouse quite convincing,' she replied. 'Don't you ? Well, perhaps not exactly like a mouse ! All the same it seems to me that you've managed to collect quite a few

misconceptions about me, Liza. I suppose you've been listening to the gossip of those old pussycats at the Rob Roy?' 'I most certainly haven't,' she retorted heatedly. 'Don't flatter yourself that I'd bother to listen to gossip about you! And anyway,' she added, watching him closely, 'there are very few "old pussycats", as you call them, at the Rob Roy. In fact I found everyone extremely charming—especially May Mackenzie.' 'Aha!' He sat back in his chair and surveyed her through narrowed lids. 'I take it the fair May has been giving me an extremely murky write-up.' 'On the contrary, I got the impression that she rather likes you.' 'Indeed!' he replied drily. 'It's a pity, then, because she doesn't happen to be my type.' Elizabeth, who had been putting up a show of indifference by poking busily between the bars of the stove, straightened up, poker in hand, and surveyed him in surprise. 'But she's so pretty and vivacious! I imagine a man would find it pretty difficult to resist her.' 'You imagine too much, Liza, that's what's the matter with you. Do you think a man's such a fool that as soon as he sees a pretty face he loses all sense of judgment. No, there's more to it than that, I assure you. May Mackenzie is just not my type; the chemistry is not working as far as we're concerned. Even if she were as beautiful as Helen of Troy it still wouldn't make any difference.' 'Then just what is your type?' she demanded exasperatedly. He stood up and with maddening deliberation felt in his pockets for a pipe.

'Oh, here's your old pipe!' Elizabeth snatched it from the deep embrasure of one of the windows and pushed it into his hands, then began to clear away the remains of breakfast, hoping he had not detected how eagerly she was waiting for him to continue. 'Thanks! I can see you're going to be quite handy about the place,' he told her as he clamped the pipe between his teeth, lit up and puffed thoughtfully. 'Let's see now, my favourite type is petite with blonde curls, a small mouth and enormous blue eyes.' Elizabeth gazed at him blankly. 'You mean a girl who looks like a pretty doll?' Somehow she had not expected a man as virile as Kerr Carmichael to have such obvious taste. 'Exactly,' he conceded. 'Like a pretty doll! But you appear surprised! Is it because the description is hardly appropriate as far as you're concerned?' 'Really!' she exploded. 'Do you imagine for one instant that I'm really interested in your preferences ? If anything, I feel it's typical of you to have such commonplace tastes.' 'Oh, come, Liza! Curly blonde hair and blue eyes —surely they're not exactly commonplace?' 'Perhaps not, but it seems to me an obvious, chocolate-box sort of prettiness.' He shrugged. 'Well, there you are! I'm very probably an obvious sort of fellow.' Elizabeth laughed shortly as she rattled the dishes in the sink. 'I shouldn't think you're an obvious sort of person, Mr. Carmichael. On the contrary, I'd say you're extremely devious.'

To her annoyance, instead of being squashed by this description of his character, he seemed merely amused. Crossing to the door, he turned and said casually, 'I'm quite sure you're an excellent housekeeper, Liza, so don't work yourself to death trying to prove anything to me. After all, you're staying only a week.' 'Oh!' Elizabeth spun around, a small glass jam-dish in her soapy fingers, feeling tempted to hurl it in his direction. But he disappeared through the door with a cat-like agility that was somehow surprising in such a burly and broad-shouldered man. As she placed the dishes firmly on the draining- board she heard him whistle up Gunna and then the sound of his retreating footsteps as he clumped across the cobbled yard. What a strange, unpredictable man Kerr Carmichael was, she was thinking confusedly as she rummaged for a drying cloth in the huge black oak cupboard that stood between one of the windows and the door that led to the rest of the house. She felt her temper cool as she dried the dishes and stacked them in the dresser. He was, she decided, like one of those Highland lochs that lay between the folded mountains, calm as blue ice in the brilliant clear air, then quite suddenly sullen and dark and full of hidden and mysterious depths. When she had had her own breakfast, she prepared a tray for Alasdair, taking care to spoon the porridge into a coggie and deciding as she did so that the beautifully fashioned wooden dish was much superior to even the prettiest china. When she reached old Mr. Carmichael's room she found that he was already up and poking at the embers in the grate that had smouldered since the previous night.

Elizabeth put the tray down on a table near his armchair. 'Let me do that,' she said gently, taking the poker from his gnarled fingers, and when she had raked out the ashes, placed a few pieces of coal on top from the half-full coal-scuttle. Old Alasdair watched her in silence. 'You're a good lassie. Mrs. Meikle was always complaining about me having a fire in such fine weather. But old bones need plenty of heat, no matter what the weather is like.' Elizabeth got to her feet. 'I expect Mrs. Meikle was too elderly to carry coal upstairs, but there'll be no problem there as far as I'm concerned.' Old Mr. Carmichael sank into his armchair and regarded her fixedly for a moment. 'What I can't make out is why a bright young thing like yourself should think of settling down in an out-of-theway spot like this. You'll have your work cut out for you, I'll not deny. This is an old-fashioned place with few conveniences and I can be carnaptuous at times, I'll not deny. And Kerr is not an easy man to know; he can be strange and moody at times.' So Alasdair did not know how short her stay was to be! She felt uncomfortably that it would be impossible to explain to the old man her reasons for taking on this job. And even if she had been able to explain, would it be comprehensible to him? She edged towards the door. 'Now, now, what's your hurry ?' Alasdair protested. 'Sit you down. Surely there's time for a wee chat while I take my porridge.' Obediently Elizabeth settled into the comfortable old-fashioned red velvet armchair across from him.

He salted his porridge generously, then helped himself to a spoonful. 'Now that's how porridge should be made,' he said appreciatively. 'Isn't it strange that an English lassie like yourself should know how to make it so well ?' 'We have porridge in England too, you know,' Elizabeth smiled. 'Maybe,' he admitted grudgingly, 'but it's not the same as the Scots stuff. We're great folk here for the oatmeal, you know—bannocks, and mealy puddings, and there's oatmeal in haggis too. There's a shop in the village that makes the finest haggis in the length and breadth of Scotland. You'll have to taste it and let me know what you think. It's not everyone who likes it, you know.' But Elizabeth could see that his mind wasn't really on what he was saying. He laid down his spoon and again regarded her fixedly. 'It'll be nice to have a young lassie around, instead of that old harridan Meikle, who made life a misery to me, if ever a woman did. Yes, you're a fine-looking girl, Elizabeth, and your face is full of character, but you're not pretty, like Linnet.' She was so taken aback by this unexpected pronouncement from old Alasdair that she stared at him blankly. He appeared, however, to be completely unaware of her embarrassment. 'Ah yes, Linnet's the prettiest thing you ever set eyes on,' he continued. 'More like a Persian kitten than a real live woman, and that's what Kerr calls her.' 'What does he call her ?' Elizabeth asked bewildered. 'Kitten, of course, because that's what she is—in looks, that is; inside, she's a very different cup of tea, I can tell you.'

The old man cackled slyly and Elizabeth waited while he spread marmalade on a piece of toast with all the leisureliness and deliberation of old age. 'Ah yes, inside, Linnet is a very different cup of tea,' he repeated, 'for there's very little of the kitten in her character, I can tell you. A forward lassie, if you know what I mean! Knows her own mind and knows what she wants out of life. And why not? For she has all the money she wants and feels she can pick and choose when it comes to a man. And there's no doubt that the lassie's fair daft about Kerr.' It was natural that the old man should imagine that to any woman in search of a husband, his grandson with his thriving farm should prove irresistible. Yet Linnet was well off; able, as Alasdair had admitted, to pick and choose. Apparently it was Kerr she had chosen; Linnet cared deeply for Kerr. That had come through so clearly in the letter she had discovered on the previous night. A curiously pleading note had run through it, an unexpressed hope that he loved her. But did he? It was impossible to tell with a man as enigmatic as Kerr Carmichael. Perhaps if she were to see them together— 'Mind you, I'm not so keen on the lassie myself,' Alasdair pursued, 'for I'm no way blinded by her beauty as a young lad would be. She's got her faults and I've the feeling I'll have short shrift should she come in here as Kerr's wife. Yet, with all that, it's her I have in mind for him. Kerr is a good worker, and with her money behind him, who knows, perhaps the place will become more what it was like in olden days when the Carmichaels were foremost amongst the folks of Lochaber, a name to be reckoned with hereabouts. And mind you, Kerr would like that! Underneath he cares as much as I do that the Carmichaels should again take their rightful place in Lochaber. No doubt I won't live to see the old days back again, but

in spite of the fact that I don't particularly like the lassie I'll do my best to see she becomes Kerr's bride.' The piercing glance of his pale blue eyes that were only a little less brilliant than his grandson's was fixed on her unmistakably. Elizabeth felt her cheeks flame angrily. So this was why he had taken her into his confidence so thoroughly. He was tacitly warning her not to fall for his irresistible grandson. For a moment she was on the point of opening her lips to inform him that Kerr did not hold for her the fascination that Alasdair seemed to think he had for every woman who met him, when she stopped short. The old man was leaning back in his armchair, a look of exhaustion on his parchmentlike face. He evidently felt that he had delivered a very necessary warning and was weary but relieved that he had so clearly conveyed his intentions. She would say nothing, she decided. If it pleased the old man to see his grandson as irresistible to women, she would not spoil things for him for informing him that not only had she no matrimonial designs on Kerr, but had every intention of leaving at the end of the week. She placed a plaid rug about his knees and when she had seen that he had his pipe and tobacco to hand, she took the tray and went slowly downstairs. In spite of herself, she found herself wondering what Linnet was really like. She had of course had a graphic description and old Mr. Carmichael had also very clearly conveyed the type of girl she was. But was she truly as lovely as she appeared to these men? How much a clever woman could achieve by skilful makeup and careful dressing; a woman who knew her own style and assets and how to make the best of them! These were subtleties that would be

anything but obvious to men like the Carmichaels. One thing was obvious, whether her looks were natural, or obtained by artifice, Linnet herself was deeply in love with Kerr. Were she to see them together, how quickly she would gauge their relationship. Even as the thought went through her mind, Elizabeth drew herself up quickly with the realisation of how already she was letting herself become involved in Kerr Carmichael's life. What did it matter to her whether he was in love with Linnet or not ? His affairs were none of her concern. All she had to do was to make a success of this challenging week and then move on to pastures new. One task that would have to be tackled before the week was over was the cleaning of the house, so that it might be as spick and span as possible on her departure. She would spend the rest of the day cleaning, she decided, first making sure that a tasty meal would be awaiting Kerr when he returned in the evening. To give herself as much time as possible for house-cleaning she prepared a light luncheon which could be served to Alasdair on a tray, then made up a tasty casserole which could be popped into the oven during the afternoon, where it would cook slowly in preparation for Kerr's return. She searched around and found an old apron of Mrs. Meikle's hanging behind one of the store-room doors. It was much too large for her and drooped limply about her ankles; it looked anything but attractive with its faded, washed-out pattern of yellows and greens. As she tucked her hair under a head-scarf, she decided she would clean the downstairs rooms first. She began with the sitting-room which she gave a thorough going over. Then, on one of her trips through the narrow hall, she was struck by how dreary it looked. In years gone by it had been lined

with a heavily embossed paper; this, in turn, had been painted a depressing olive-green colour. How much more cheerful it would look if the walls were stripped down and a coat of bright paint applied! She felt sure Kerr and his grandfather would offer no objection to her scheme. When she had put the casserole in the oven, she quickly took down the pen-and-wash drawings with the narrow black frames which only seemed to add to the depressing aspect of the hall; these she stacked on a shelf in one of the small, dark rooms that adjoined the kitchen. She tugged experimentally at a loose edge of the stiff wallpaper, to discover whether the plaster beneath was sound, and to her surprise it pulled away to reveal dark oak panelling. She felt a growing sense of excitement as the beautifully mellow wood was slowly revealed; it was, of course, now dull and lustreless and patched with damp stains from long years of neglect. But a brisk rub with linseed oil would, she knew, restore it to something of its former glory. When at last the final portion of covering had been removed Elizabeth stood back and regarded her handiwork with satisfaction, then suddenly realised how the day had flown and that the hall was now strewn with strips of grimy wallpaper. Almost with a sense of panic she remembered that Kerr would shortly be returning for his evening meal. She peeped into the oven and saw that the casserole was simmering gently in its brown rich juices, then taking a broom she began to sweep up the hall energetically. Soon she was enveloped in clouds of choking dust, and decided to open the door to let some air in. As she did so there was the crunch of tyres on the gravel and a stylish black-and-maroon car swished into sight.

Elizabeth watched with growing consternation as it stopped and from behind the wheel stepped one of the loveliest girls she had ever seen; she was of less than average height, tiny-boned, with golden curls cascading on to her shoulders; her heart-shaped face had a tiny mouth and perfectly formed features. The exquisite delicacy of her appearance was emphasised by a frilly ice-pink blouse and white satin slacks. As the girl approached the house and Elizabeth could see more clearly the wide blue eyes and curving mouth, she decided that the newcomer was like a Persian kitten, and immediately guessed that the visitor was Linnet Peters. Elizabeth stood, awkwardly clutching the broom, suddenly aware of the cloud of dust that hovered in the hall, the littered floor and her own dishevelled appearance and of the escaping wisps of hair streaking her hot face. But it was too late to retreat. The girl stood in the doorway, regarding Elizabeth, the huge translucent blue eyes mildly curious. Then a smile curved the small pouting mouth. 'Well, just don't stand there, as if I had two heads,' she remarked without anger. 'I'm Linnet Peters. Be a good girl and tell Mrs. Meikle I'm here. I'm just dying for a cup of tea. Leave what you're doing and make me one. I'll explain to Mrs. Meikle, so don't worry on that account.' As she advanced into the hall and saw the results of Elizabeth's labours her eyes widened. 'So you've taken off the wallpaper! I must say the last thing I'd have thought is that Mrs. Meikle would be interested in oak panelling—I should have said she'd prefer it covered up. Well, she's certainly keeping you on your toes; she really is an old slave-driver. Poor you!' The girl looked at Elizabeth with commiseration.

It was evident that Linnet had mistaken Elizabeth for a local girl taken in to assist the housekeeper with the rough work. Which was not surprising, Elizabeth thought ruefully, conscious that Mrs. Meikle's faded apron was hanging limply to her ankles and that her hands were red and work-roughened and that on the whole her appearance was dishevelled. 'Do hurry up,' Linnet urged, in her tones a faint note of impatience. 'After all, Mrs. Meikle can't eat you up—although I admit she is rather a dragon.' As Linnet's attitude became all too clear, Elizabeth could feel herself redden. So this girl thought she was a timid servant, afraid of abandoning the work set for her by the housekeeper, in case she came under the lash of that lady's vitriolic tongue. 'I'm afraid Mrs. Meikle isn't here,' Elizabeth began. 'Not here?' Linnet repeated, puzzled. 'Where is she, then? You don't mean to tell me she's gone?' Elizabeth nodded, beginning to realise how difficult it was going to be to explain her position to this girl who, for all her kittenish looks, had an air of sharp intelligence. 'Are you trying to tell me you've taken her job?' Linnet demanded with a note of incredulity. 'Yes, I'm the new housekeeper,' Elizabeth told her, conscious that Linnet was now studying her with an interest she had not displayed before. 'You're not from the village,' she said at last. 'I realise that now, because I know nearly everybody there.'

'No,' Elizabeth replied. 'I'm from England.' 'England? But why should you take a job here, so far away from home? And why should you settle on Brae House—it just doesn't make sense! I mean, the house is charming and quaint and all that sort of thing, but it's completely primitive as far as amenities are concerned. Anyway'—and now Linnet's wide blue eyes were hard and assessing—'surely you're far too young to be a housekeeper? You must be about the same age as I am. Tell me, what brought you to this part of the country in the first place?' she demanded, her voice harsh and peremptory. 'My father came from this district,' Elizabeth found herself replying, wondering why she felt guilty and so ill at ease under Linnet's scrutiny. 'All the same, that's hardly a good enough reason for you to take a job like this, I assume you didn't come here looking for work in the first place, did you ?' 'No,' Elizabeth admitted. 'Then where were you staying ? With friends ?' 'I have no friends here. I was staying at the Rob Roy Hotel.' 'At the Rob Roy?' Linnet's voice rose incredulously and her small, pouting mouth seemed to fall open in surprise. 'But that's where I always stay! It's the best and one of the most expensive hotels in Kirkloch. For a girl ready to take a job as a housekeeper, it seems—well—' Linnet shrugged as if forced against her will to plain speaking. 'Well, it seems a strange choice for a girl in your position. Oh, I know that sounds horrid and snobbish, but, let's face it, there's something strange about the whole business. I can't

imagine what Kerr's up to, but I intend to find out, I can assure you.' 'I don't see that it's any of your business,' Elizabeth retorted, angry with herself for having so weakly answered Linnet's questions. 'Of course it's my business,' Linnet retorted. 'You don't seem to realise that Kerr and I—' 'Kerr and I what?' a deep voice asked. 'Kerr!' Linnet swung around, her eyes glowing with happiness, as she saw Kerr Carmichael's tall figure in the doorway. She ran towards him and flung her arms around his neck. Elizabeth watched with a strange hollow feeling as he laughed boisterously and swung her into his arms. 'Linnet, my kitten, you're more beautiful than ever! This is a pleasant surprise! Now what's all the fuss about?' He glanced over Linnet's burnished curls and, as if for the first time, saw the condition the hall was in. He gave a low whistle of surprise. 'What a mess you've made of things—and of yourself, for that matter! You look as if you'd been dragged through the bracken backwards.' Elizabeth, only too well aware of the picture she presented, shuffled uncomfortably amongst the debris at her feet. Linnet slid from Kerr's arms and said, with the air of someone determined to get to the bottom of things, 'What I want to know is just what's going on. I arrived to find Mrs. Meikle gone and this person dragging down the hall.'

Kerr grinned. 'This person, as you call her, is Elizabeth Jones, and I think you're exaggerating when you say she's dragging down the hall. Let's say she's indulging in artistic excavations.' 'I'm not exaggerating in the slightest, Kerr,' Linnet told him tartly. 'And telling me she's Elizabeth Jones doesn't add to my information very much. First of all, why did Mrs. Meikle leave? She seemed perfectly satisfactory to me.' 'No doubt she did to you, but we must also take her point of view into consideration. Apparently she found my grandfather and myself a bit to much to handle. Not that I blame her! What with Grandfather, and his wood-carvings! And me clumping with muddy boots all over the house! It's not surprising she threw in her hand and gave us up as a bad job.' 'Nonsense!' Linnet returned sharply. 'And surely, when she did go, you could have got someone more —well, more suitable.' 'And just what do you mean by suitable? Liza is a good cook. And what's more, Grandfather actually likes her. All in all Elizabeth Jones looks eminently suitable to me.' He eyed Elizabeth critically. 'Although at the moment she seems to have her hands full.' 'Yes, dragging down the walls,' Linnet said distastefully, surveying the debris that surrounded them. Elizabeth stood silent, feeling growing resentment; she was being discussed as though she were not present. 'You know perfectly well what I mean by suitable,' Linnet pursued. Kerr raised his brows. 'As a matter of fact, I don't. Just what exactly do you mean by suitable, Linnet?'

'Well, I mean someone—someone settled.' 'Settled?' he queried. 'Oh, you're just being deliberately obtuse, Kerr Carmichael,' Linnet told him, an unwilling smile curving her lips. 'I should have known it would be useless trying to argue with you.' 'Oh, come, Linnet, when things are swept up it won't look so bad! And anyway, I think the panelling, when it's polished up, will be a vast improvement. I always hated that sticky green wallpaper—it was so depressing.' Linnet smiled tightly at Elizabeth. 'Well, at least in Kerr Carmichael you've got a champion,' she remarked. 'On the contrary,' Kerr informed her, 'Liza and I don't always see eye to eye. Do we, Liza?' Before Elizabeth could think of a suitable rejoinder, Linnet put in quickly, 'Oh, do let's drop the subject! I'm beginning to get bored.' 'Well, it was you who brought it up,' he pointed out. 'Perhaps it was my fault,' she conceded, and reaching up began playfully to twist the copper-red hair that touched the collar of his anorak. 'But don't let's quarrel. You are pleased to see me, aren't you, Kerr ?' He smiled down at her. 'You know I am, don't you ? No home is complete without a kitten.' 'Oh, Kerr,' she murmured, 'we must do all sorts of exciting things.'

'Not until I sample whatever delicious concoction Liza has been brewing up.' He sniffed appreciatively. 'It's not by any chance a stew, is it ?' he asked Elizabeth hopefully. 'It's just about ready, I should imagine,' Elizabeth told him coldly. 'I'll take it out of the oven now.' Linnet, looking a little flattened, trailed after them into the kitchen. 'All I want is tea,' she told them dolefully, as Elizabeth reached into the oven and placed the casserole on the table. 'I know it looks delicious, but I hate to think what it would do to my figure.' 'Then Liza shall make you tea,' Kerr remarked, as they took their places at the table. Elizabeth turned quickly towards the stove, before he could see the resentment which she felt sure was plainly written upon her face. He was making it all too plain, before this beautiful girl with all the advantages that wealth and position could bring, that he regarded her as nothing more than his paid housekeeper. Her position at Brae House was not as simple as that, she told herself, but how on earth could she explain to Linnet the tangled motives that had prompted her to take on the job—even if it were to be only for a week.

CHAPTER SIX ELIZABETH was on the point of placing the rose- patterned china before Linnet when she hesitated. Her eye had been caught by a big, battered, brown enamelled teapot, tucked away in the corner of the dresser. It had obviously been intended for kitchen use and had seen many years of wear. A little imp of mischief prompted her to reach it down. Instead of one of the pretty rose-patterned cups, she also took from a hook a large rough earthenware mug which, like the pot, had obviously been in use for many years. When she had made the tea she plumped the pot and mug in front of Linnet. For a moment Linnet regarded them in disbelief then, with a short laugh, turned to Kerr. 'Well, it's fairly obvious I'm being made at home,' she remarked drily. Elizabeth cast a quick glance at Kerr and saw a slight smile curve his lips. So he had guessed how resentful she had felt at the fuss that had been made of Linnet's arrival! Suddenly she wished she hadn't been so childishly vindictive. It was maddening to know that he had so easily seen through her efforts to embarrass Linnet. Linnet sipped her tea in a constrained silence while Elizabeth busied herself at the stove. Then, as it became obvious that Kerr was going to take no action, but was going to ignore the covert insult paid to her, Linnet laid the mug down with a thud and said angrily, 'Really, is this how your guests are usually treated, Kerr ? I must say I don't consider it much of a welcome !'

Kerr helped himself calmly to another supply from the casserole before answering. 'I'd be interested to know just what you did expect, Linnet. A red carpet, perhaps ?' 'Oh, don't be so infuriating,' she replied sharply. 'I made it perfectly clear I was coming.' He nodded agreement. 'Yes, you told me you were, coming after Easter, but as far as I remember you didn't specify a particular date. But if I'd known you were coming today, naturally, apart from the red carpet, I'd have laid on a brass band.' Bright patches of rage highlighted Linnet's cheekbones. 'I suppose I was expecting too much when I assumed we'd spend the first day together!' And although Elizabeth did not turn her head she was aware of the venomous glance Linnet darted in her direction. 'Well, as that seems to be out of the question, I suggest you take me for a sail tomorrow. We could have lunch at one of those tiny islands in the loch. We'd have it all to ourselves and I can easily get them to make me up a luncheon basket at the Rob Roy.' Kerr shook his head. 'Sorry, I won't be able to manage it. The bestlaid plans gang aft agley, as Robbie Burns so truly remarked.' 'What do you mean?' Linnet asked suspiciously. 'Simply, my dear girl, that I've work to do here on the farm. Whin bushes must be burned on the braes. Tomorrow I won't be available to go off gallivanting with you.' 'So you've got to burn some rotten old whin bushes, have you, Kerr Carmichael! Well, as they obviously come before me, I shan't bother you.' She sprang to her feet, scattering cutlery on the floor,

and headed for the kitchen door, which she banged violently on departure. There was a short silence, then the sound of furious revving and the car being driven swiftly away. A short uncomfortable silence followed and Elizabeth, as she gathered the dishes together, was aware that Kerr was. watching her intently, his blue eyes hard and level. When she reached out to take up the now empty casserole, his hand suddenly grasped her wrist like a band of steel. 'Now what on earth made you do that ?' 'Do what?' Elizabeth exclaimed, startled and a little apprehensive at the sudden violence of his movement. 'You know perfectly well what I mean. You made no secret of your attitude. You were deliberately insulting to Linnet.' 'I can't see what she has to object to,' Elizabeth replied unconvincingly. 'She asked for tea and I made it.' 'You did,' he agreed ironically, 'and in that enormous old relic that's only used during the harvest. The mug too was a nice touch. Altogether, Liza, you didn't show up as a particularly nice sort of person.' With a gesture of disgust he flung her wrist from him. 'So I'm not a particularly nice sort of person,' Elizabeth repeated, her breath coming in short gasps. 'Do you think it concerns me what you think of me ? After all, I'm only here for a week, so your opinion of me can hardly matter very much.'

'Perhaps not, but while you're here, you'll treat my guests with civility or I'll know the reason why.' He got up from the table with an abrupt movement that said more than words that he considered the incident terminated and it was this arrogant assumption that she had been put in her place that infuriated Elizabeth more than ever. She wasn't going to let him go from the room without defending herself. 'Very well, the next time I meet Miss Peters I'll remember to curtsey,' she said sarcastically. For a moment he stood regarding her, his blue eyes like chips of steel. 'That won't be necessary. Simply try to restrain that greeneyed monster and you'll do very well.' 'Green-eyed monster?' she repeated, her voice high with incredulity. 'You mean, you actually think I'm jealous of Linnet?' 'What else can I conclude?' he replied with maddening deliberation. 'Linnet is an extremely beautiful person, as I think you'll agree, and you admit that, in the accepted sense, you're not particularly pretty. I assume she's not exactly popular with you.' Elizabeth faced him, realising how impossible it would be to point out how in dozens of little needling ways Linnet was capable of undermining a girl's confidence. How her complacent acceptance of her own superiority was in itself a challenge! 'I think you're the most hateful man I've ever known!' she burst out at last. 'I've never pretended to be Sir Lancelot,' he returned coolly, 'and I think you'd do well to remember that I come of a lawless breed. You'll find no gentlemanly restraints, as far as I'm concerned.'

Then, turning, he strode from the room and the door shut with a crash behind him. When he had gone Elizabeth attacked what remained of the housework like a whirlwind and when everything in the kitchen was arranged to her satisfaction she gathered the oil lamps together, determined to give them a thorough cleaning. It had irritated her to see how oily and grimy they looked, the funnels coated with soot, and as she laid newspapers on the big kitchen table and assembled cleaning materials she was already visualising how the bronze and brass of the old lamps would look when they gleamed with vigorous polishing. She washed the glass chimneys in soapy water, then set to work on the metal parts, and when the last was done, noted with satisfaction that she could see her reflection in the gleaming yellow brass. 'Are you trying to summon up a genie ?' Kerr asked from the doorway. His anger seemed to have disappeared and Elizabeth decided she would call a truce. 'I'd certainly need one in this house, she retorted. 'The lamps were in a filthy condition—it's obvious they haven't been trimmed or cleaned for ages.' Kerr nodded. 'Yes, I'm afraid Mrs. Meikle, for all her sharp tongue and air of being extraordinarily efficient, was a lazy old baggage. I'm certainly glad she decided to clear out.' Elizabeth looked at him curiously. How strange it was that someone so decisive as Kerr Carmichael should have let Mrs. Meikle hold sway for so long without dismissing her. She decided to risk a snub by asking him. 'But why didn't you get rid of her long ago? After all, your grandfather didn't like her and she was so obviously incompetent.'

'There was no one else suitable at the time—at least, no one of the right age—' He stopped and, to Elizabeth's amazement, seemed slightly embarrassed. 'I see,' she told him shrewdly. 'You mean anyone younger than Mrs. Meikle might get ideas about becoming mistress of Brae House—just as your grandfather said.' 'Grandfather talks a great deal of nonsense,' Ken- said shortly. 'Anyway, he's taken rather a fancy to you, possibly because he sees—' '—I offer no competition, as far as Linnet is concerned,' Elizabeth concluded drily. He regarded her coolly. 'Possibly! By the way, he'd like you to come to the sitting-room for a while, if you're finished here.' 'I'm finished,' she told him, her anger rising again at the cool arrogance of his manner. She rammed the cleaning materials into a cupboard. 'I might have known you didn't come here for a chat.' He arched his brows quizzically. 'Now, why on earth should I want to chat with a tartar like yourself?' She chose to ignore this jibe. 'I'll join your grandfather in the sitting-room when I've tidied myself,' she remarked with dignity. 'All right, but don't tidy up too much, Liza. It suits you somehow to have a few stray wisps blowing about your face.' And before she could think of a suitable retort he had disappeared through the door. When she reached her room she peered into the mirror. Undoubtedly wisps of her fine hair had escaped and curled against

her cheeks, giving to her grave features a gamine look that was somehow becoming. But when she had washed her face and hands she brushed her hair back severely and tied it at the nape of her neck in a broad cerise ribbon. She would let Kerr Carmichael see that his opinion counted for very little as far as she was concerned. When she went into the sitting-room she found Kerr sprawled in one of the window seats, engrossed in a yachting magazine. Alasdair was seated in an armchair, a table before him, on which was spread out a half completed jigsaw puzzle. Seeing that Kerr remained with his eyes fixed on his magazine, she ignored him. Old Alasdair looked up with a smile. 'Come over here, girl, and give me a hand with the puzzle.' Elizabeth crossed to the table and looked down at the patch of picture. 'I'm afraid I'm not very good at this,' she began, then noticed, with surprise, that he was not constructing the puzzle from an illustration. Alasdair chuckled as he saw her astonishment. 'It makes it harder this way, if I don't know what the subject is.' 'You must be good at it,' Elizabeth said. Old Alasdair nodded and said a little sadly, 'Indeed I am, lass, but then what else is there for me to do? I'm not much use around the place these days.' 'Nonsense, Grandfather,' Kerr interposed swiftly. 'You know perfectly well that I rely on you for advice. Anyway, there's your wood-carving. They tell me in Kirkloch that they're selling like hot cakes in the tourist shops.'

Alasdair nodded with the gravity of old age. 'I'm glad to hear it, for there's little else I'm good for.' But Elizabeth had seen how his eyes, so like his grandson's, had lit up at the appreciative words. Then, as quickly, his face resumed its habitual stern folds, as though he were determined to avoid any hint of sentiment. 'Now that Elizabeth's here, we'll have to mind our manners. Come away from that seat in the window, Kerr, and let Elizabeth see you can behave like a gentleman when you want to.' 'Thanks, I'm quite comfortable where I am,' Kerr replied, coolly turning a page. 'Anyway, Liza's quite used to my manners. She'd be quite disconcerted if I showed any other side to my character. Wouldn't you, Liza?' He darted a quick glance at her that took her by surprise. Elizabeth picked up one of the jigsaw pieces from the table and occupied herself in examining it closely. 'I really can't say,' she retorted coolly, 'as I've never caught a glimpse of your other side— that's if it exists.' 'Oh, but it does,' he assured her solemnly. 'Perhaps one day I'll be able to reveal it to you.' 'Thanks,' she returned drily, 'but, as you say, I'm quite used to your manners. Your behaviour is of very little interest to me. I'm quite prepared to tolerate you.' Kerr tossed aside the magazine and, standing up, stretched lazily. 'Well, I must say that's mighty big of you, Miss Elizabeth Jones.' He was mocking her, she knew, but she refused to rise to the bait. Bending down, she hastily inserted a piece of the puzzle, only to

realise an instant later that it was very obviously in the wrong place. Old Alasdair chuckled. 'It's plain to see you'll have to stick to the cooking, for you're no hand at puzzles. And that reminds me,' he added, 'I must make you a spirtle for your porridge pot.' 'A spirtle?' Elizabeth repeated inquiringly. 'It's the rounded stick the good-wife used to stir the porridge with in days gone by,' Alasdair explained, then added, with a slight chuckle, 'Yes, indeed, many a time a man might return from a cold night rieving on the mountains to find his wife ready with the porridge and the spirtle.' Kerr gave a bark of laughter. 'Somehow I don't see Liza in that role. I've an idea she'd strongly object to rieving, wouldn't you, Liza?' Before she could answer, Alasdair continued, 'In days gone by it was every man for himself, you understand. Things were hard, especially if a man should fight on the wrong side.' 'I'm afraid, as far as Liza's concerned, he'd get very little sympathy,' Kerr interposed. 'He'd most likely get a coggie of hot porridge in his face.' 'You're implying I'm a self-righteous, bad-tempered shrew,' Elizabeth told him accusingly. Kerr calmly reached for his pipe and began to fill it deliberately before replying. 'If the cap fits, wear it. You certainly didn't show Linnet a particularly sweet side of your nature, did you ?'

Elizabeth bit her lip. So he was reminding her of her unamiable attitude towards Linnet Peters. On the other hand, did he expect her to endure Linnet's subtle digs without defending herself? If he did, she would show him that he was very much mistaken, she resolved, but she decided that, in this instance, a dignified withdrawal would be in order. 'I think it's time I lit the lamps,' she announced coldly. 'Yes, you do that, lassie,' Alasdair agreed, obviously unaware of the tension between the two younger people. 'It's time I was getting to bed anyway.' Elizabeth walked with stately dignity to the door and took care to shut it gently behind her. At least she had not given Kerr the satisfaction of seeing her lose her temper at his jibes, she thought complacently as she made her way to the kitchen. To her surprise she had no sooner begun to remove the glass chimneys from the lamps when she heard Kerr's firm deliberate footsteps in the flagged passage that led to the kitchen. She would be able to recognise those footsteps anywhere, she was thinking, a hint of colour touching her cheeks at the realisation. She crossed to the range and applied a taper to the red coals, glad that her back would be towards him as he entered. Not for worlds would she have had his observant eye notice the tell-tale colour that had sprung to her cheeks at the sound of his approach. For a moment he stood in the doorway puffing at his pipe until Elizabeth turned, the lighted taper in her hand, and feigned to feel surprise at his appearance. 'I thought I'd give you a hand with the lamps,' he told her. 'They're not easy to carry upstairs if you're not used to them.'

It was obvious he intended this to be a conciliatory gambit and Elizabeth could feel her heart beat fast with pleasure, but she was determined to show no crack in her armour. 'It's quite all right,' she told him flatly. 'I'm perfectly sure I can manage them myself.' 'But can you? Remember the accident last night. I'd feel much happier if I carried them upstairs for you. This house is old, the wood has .been drying for centuries. If you were to let one fall it could be disastrous. And after all,' he added with an air of mock solemnity, 'I'm sure you'd hate to depart at the end of the week knowing that you'd burnt the ancestral home of the Carmichaels to the ground.' Before she could form a reply to this jibe, he took a lamp in each hand. 'Now, you take the other.' And, leading the way, he marched towards the stairs, leaving her to follow, bearing aloft a solitary lamp. As Elizabeth meekly followed him upwards, she was very conscious of how the glow of the lamps outlined his broadshouldered figure and shone upon his face and hair. As he passed the turn in the stairs for an instant his face and head in shadow were those of a Roman general she had seen in an illustration to a book of history : it was as though his strongly carved features were surmounted by a fiery copper helmet. Then he moved on and the illusion was destroyed. He pushed open the door of her room and placed one of the lamps on the small bedside table. 'Now don't sit up in bed reading love-letters till all hours—not even mine,' he admonished her. Then, before she had an inkling of his intention, he stooped and kissed her quickly on the lips.

Elizabeth drew back with a quick gasp of indignation, but already he was gone, and the door was swinging gently behind him. She went to one of the windows and stood gazing out. A great moon shone in the sky, laying a pathway like a length of silver lame across the loch; the mountains were outlines of jagged purple against the starlit sky. Had he really kissed her, or had she just imagined it ? she wondered bemusedly. But no, it had been real; she could still feel the impress of his lips on hers. A night-bird called from the mountains on the far side of the loch. Then her eye was caught by the masts of the Birlinn tipped with silver in the light of the moon. It seemed like a gull at rest on the still waters, its sails folded. Tomorrow she would go down and look at it more closely, she decided. She had grown to love this beautiful spot, she was thinking, as she turned away from the window; it was going to be very hard to say good-bye to it, when the time came. But was it really the fairy-tale loveliness of the Highlands that was casting a spell upon her, or was it the presence of Kerr Carmichael? She shrugged the thought away impatiently, although her heart told her that she was growing ever more and more deeply in love with him. On the following day, Elizabeth worked untiringly. By the afternoon she decided that the old house had not looked so fresh and comfortable for many a long year. It was so easy to make it look homely, a place to relax in; all it needed was a little care and love for its long traditions to make it glow again with new life. But a little ruefully Elizabeth suspected that, as soon as her week was up at Brae House and she had departed, it would gradually once again sink back into dust and disorder.

She shrugged off the thought. After all, she reminded herself, it was none of her business how Kerr Carmichael chose to conduct his life. Through the windows she could see the hills, a haze of green, and the loch glittered invitingly. Now would be her chance to inspect the Birlinn she decided. After all, she had worked hard all day; she was entitled to a little recreation. She slipped into a fresh cotton dress and canvas shoes and, before going downstairs, popped her head into old Alasdair's room to see if all was well with him. As usual, he was engrossed in his wood-carving and seemed quite satisfied when she told him she was going out for a while. She walked to the end of the jetty and cautiously surveyed the Birlinn as it swayed slightly in a sudden breeze. This would be as good a time as any to inspect it, she decided. There was no sign of life on the deserted deck and she would be able fully to satisfy her curiosity without being observed by Kerr's sardonic eye. But before she had the chance to carry out her plans, his head bobbed up through one of the hatches. 'Well, why don't you come aboard ?' 'Oh, I didn't know there was anyone about,' she told him. She felt she had to make plain to him that she hadn't come in search of his company. 'I had some repairs to do,' he told her. He hoisted; himself up and leaned on the rails and she saw that his pullover was streaked with grime.

'Well, don't stand there! I won't eat you. Come aboard and make me a cup of tea,' he commanded. 'No, I don't think I shall. Certainly not if you ask me in that tone.' She saw his eyes glitter with amusement. 'Just in case you've forgotten, your week's not up yet. You're still in bondage.' Elizabeth considered this. 'Not outside the house! I didn't agree to be your cabin-boy, you know.' He gave a mock sigh of resignation. 'Oh, very well, if you're going to stand on your rights! But don't think I shall be left tea-less, for I'm perfectly well able to do it myself. I'll have you know, I'm no helpless male. It's simply that I'm in too much of a mess to fool about in the galley.' Elizabeth pondered for a moment, then graciously acceded to his request, because she badly wanted to explore the boat. She went down to the cabin, leaving Kerr on deck where he was beginning to rub the grime from his hands with the aid of soap and a bucket of water. When she had put on a kettle of water, she probed about amongst the cupboards and discovered a store of tins that made her eyes open wide. Was Kerr planning a voyage to some distant part of the world ? she wondered, and was disconcerted to find how her heart sank with dismay at the very prospect. She opened a tin of corned beef and prepared sandwiches, her mind anxiously turning over the possible significance behind her discovery of Kerr's hoard. When the kettle boiled, she brewed a pot of strong tea and putting her head up through the companionway, called him down.

When they were seated at the table and Kerr was doing justice to the sandwiches, she said casually, 'I see you've quite a big store of food here.' 'Oh yes, I always keep the Birlinn well stocked,' he replied. 'All the same, you seem to have a great deal of stores for the short journeys you take.' Slowly Kerr put his cup down. His blue eyes, still and intent, were fixed on her consideringly. 'Why the interest?' Elizabeth shrugged and made a great business of helping herself to sugar. 'No reason at all,' she replied with what she hoped was an air of careless indifference. 'It simply crossed my mind that you might be going on a voyage of some sort.' She saw his face darken for an instant before he bit into a sandwich, and chewed thoughtfully. 'Well, perhaps I did think of it, but it came to nothing,' he said bitterly. Eager questions arose to Elizabeth's lips, but much as she longed to satisfy her curiosity about him, she bit them back, for she had the feeling that should she trespass beyond certain limits, she would be brusquely and effectively silenced. He held out his cup for more tea, then said abruptly, 'I've seen quite a bit of the world and I suppose it's given me a taste for wandering. The Birlinn hasn't always been creeping safely about the coasts; she knows what it's like to be on the open seas in a force eight gale.' 'And you'd like to go again?' she ventured cautiously.

His eyes were brooding as he replied, 'Whether I do or not, it's out of the question now that Grandfather is too old to oversee the work any more. And now that I've stepped into his shoes, it's time I put an end to my wanderings.' He reached for another sandwich. 'No, I'm afraid the Birlinn and I will have to resign ourselves to pottering about in the lochs from now on.' 'The Birlinn?' she asked, 'what does it mean? I intended to ask you, but forgot.' 'Birlinn is a word meaning the boat of a chieftain. Well, does that appeal to your romantic heart, Liza?' he ended drily. Elizabeth glanced away, unwilling that he should see the relief she felt at the thought that he was not on the point of sailing out of her life. Yet what difference did it make ? she thought with a stab of misery. After all, at the end of the week she herself would be leaving Brae House and Kerr Carmichael for good! 'We Scots were always rovers,' he continued. 'Wherever you go in the world you will find Scots who've satisfied their restless nature and gone off to settle abroad.' 'Perhaps, later on, if you get the opportunity to travel again, you'll do it?' she ventured. He considered this. 'Perhaps, but I think it would depend a lot upon whether there was someone here I cared enough for to draw me back. That's where the woman in a man's life counts. For she can anchor a man to a place no matter how restless he may be. But I think she'd have to be a very special person, someone who would have to have what it takes to draw a man to her side and keep him

there. Otherwise, if I had the chance, I'd spend a lot of time at sea and return to Kirkloch only when I tired of my travels.' Could Linnet be this woman? she wondered, because, for all her dainty prettiness, underneath she was strong and determined, and it was only too obvious she had her heart set on marrying Kerr and would fight fiercely to hold him by her side. Elizabeth was not deceived by the bickering and sudden squalls that tended to blow up between Linnet and Kerr : underneath they were kindred spirits, with a dark passion for life and something fierce and untamed in their natures. For an instant she remembered the scene when he had first seen Linnet after their separation; he had caught her up in his arms and held her close to him. She dreaded the moment when he would clearly say that Linnet was the woman he was referring to, the one woman in his life, yet for all that, Elizabeth willed him to continue, to draw her deeper into his confidence, to give her a hint of what lay behind his strange enigmatic exterior. But, to her disappointment, he seemed suddenly bored with the subject. He stood up and stretched. 'Here I am, nattering on, while there are jobs to be done!' And, completely oblivious of her disappointment at this termination of their conversation, he went on deck, whistling cheerfully. It was as though a door had been slammed in her face, Elizabeth thought disconsolately, as she washed the dishes and tidied up the cabin. But then how was Kerr to guess the deep and consuming interest she felt in every detail of his life ? After all, she had not shown herself as particularly friendly or amenable towards him!

Afterwards, when she went up on deck, she gave a gasp of delight at the scene that met her eyes. The loch was as still as a mirror and on its surface the Birlinn was reflected in every detail. The sun was sinking, throwing a golden pathway across the waters, and already the sky was turning pink. Lone birds were flying back to land. Kerr had given up his work and, his back against one of the masts, he was contentedly smoking his pipe. 'Why, it's beautiful,' Elizabeth said softly, her eyes drinking in the scene. She breathed deeply of the scents that seemed to flow over the boat from the herb- studded machair. She went to the rails and leaning her head upon her arms gazed musingly upon the scene. 'Yes, there's really nothing to touch the beauty of the Highlands,' Kerr was saying, his deep voice softer than usual, as though mellowed by the beauty of his surroundings. 'This is the true Land of Heart's Desire.' She had not heard him approach, but suddenly his strong arms were on the rail beside hers and he too was gazing down into the water, where their faces were reflected on the smooth, glassy surface. How handsome he was, Elizabeth was thinking, with his head of unruly copper curls and the strong- hewn face, with its strange, piercing blue eyes that never seemed to relax their vigilance. He was like a sea-rover from an old heroic tale of Scotland, she decided. Beside him should stand a woman worthy of his mettle. With a stab at her heart she saw reflected beside him a thin, sharpboned girl, much too angular for beauty. Large, troubled eyes stared back into hers.

She had known, of course, what to expect from her own reflection! No magic wand had transformed her into the sort of girl she so passionately wanted to be, yet involuntarily, she drew in her breath with a little, inarticulate gasp of dismay. Immediately his strong brown hand covered hers. 'What's wrong, Liza? Has something upset you?' She laughed shakily. 'It's silly, but just for a moment—' She stopped, then continued tremulously, 'Ah well, I suppose it must have been the beauty of this place, but just for a moment I was reminded of one of those old Scottish folk-tales—you know the sort of thing, where a beautiful maiden is wooed by a great Viking warrior! Then suddenly, I seemed to be struck by the knowledge that I'm not even remotely beautiful. I've always known it, of course, but somehow it didn't seem to matter so very much until now.' His hand tightened on hers. 'It shouldn't matter now—or ever. A woman should be a creature of flesh and blood, faults and failings. Anyway, have you never heard that beauty is in the eye of the beholder ?' She nodded wryly. 'Yes, but I've never believed it.' 'Well, you should! As far as I'm concerned, that strange angular little face of yours does, something for me that's completely inexplicable. Don't ask me to explain it, because I can't. Perhaps the nearest I can come to it is to say that you remind me of a still mountain tarn, not beautiful, but calm and faintly mysterious. Except, of course,' he added with a sudden change of mood, 'when you're in a temper, and then you're more like one of those furious little burns that scold their way down the hillsides. But come along, it's getting chilly and it's time we went up to the house. If

you go ahead I'll follow in a moment when I've gathered my things together.' Slowly Elizabeth went along the path to the house, half hoping he would join her before she arrived at the door. But she went in alone, and as she did so the phone began to ring. She hesitated, loath to pick up the receiver, to break the mood of happiness that possessed her, loath that the world and its mundane problems should intrude and take over once more. It was slowly and reluctantly that, at last, she picked up the receiver. 'Hello, Kerr!' Unmistakably it was Linnet's voice. 'No, this is Elizabeth.' 'Oh, it's you!' Clearly there came the flattened tone of disappointment. Then the peremptoriness, as Linnet said, 'Where on earth have you been? I've been ringing for ages. Have Kerr come to the phone, please.' 'I'm afraid he's not here at the moment,' Elizabeth replied. 'Then where is he? When will he be in?' Linnet asked impatiently. 'I expect he'll be here in a moment or two. He stayed behind to collect a few things from the Birlinn.' Immediately she realised she had made a mistake in saying this. 'Stayed behind?' Linnet's voice repeated sharply. 'Were you on the Birlinn with him ?'

For a moment Elizabeth felt guilty. Then, as she realised that there was no real reason for her to feel that, she replied evenly, 'Yes, I was. Perhaps I could take a message.' Linnet gave a short little laugh. 'Yes, perhaps it would be as well if you did. I know Kerr. It will be ages before he comes in from that wretched boat. By the way, if I do give you a message, you'll be sure to pass it on to him ?' 'Yes, I think you can trust me to do that,' Elizabeth replied quietly. 'Yes, on second thoughts, I think I can. After all, you probably want to hold on to your job,' Linnet said offensively. 'Just tell him there's a dinner-dance on here at the Rob Roy this evening, and I want him to come over and join me. There are a few people I met here last time, and we could make up a little party.' 'Yes, I will certainly give him the message—' Then, as she heard Kerr enter the hall, Elizabeth told Linnet, 'Here he is now. This is a call for you from Linnet,' she told Kerr as he dumped in a corner of the hall a bundle of fishing tackle. He took the receiver from her outstretched hand. 'Hello, Kitten, and how are you this fine summer evening?' he was enquiring blithely, as Elizabeth turned away. 'What did you say ? A dinnerdance, this evening ?' Quickly Elizabeth put herself out of earshot, but she could hear the tones of his voice, warm and intimate as he spoke to Linnet. When she entered the kitchen she found that Alasdair's bell was ringing and went up to his room immediately. 'Where have you been ?' he asked querulously. 'I could hear the phone ringing, but there was no one in the house to answer it.'

'I'm sorry,' she apologised. 'I stayed out longer than I intended.' 'Oh, very well,' he said in softer tones. 'Now you're here you can build up my fire. It's chilly this evening.' Only a few pieces of coal remained in the scuttle, Elizabeth noticed, and feeling guilty, she built up the fire and took the scuttle downstairs to refill it. When she had returned it to his room she put herself out to make up a tasty and inviting supper tray for the old man, wondering as she did so whether Kerr had accepted Linnet's invitation. She got her answer when, having collected the tray from Alasdair's room, she came out into the corridor again. As she approached the door of Kerr's room, it opened and he came out. But this was not the man she was accustomed to seeing in seaman's jerseys, with tousled locks and piratical red knitted cap. Now he was wearing a dinner-jacket, his hair smoothly combed back, accentuating his strong, well-shaped head. He seemed even taller and, somehow, remote. This was a cool, sophisticated stranger, someone in whose life she herself would have no place, a man who could mix easily with the wealthy and worldly-wise. 'You won't be in for supper?' Stupidly she found herself asking the question, although it was so obvious he had other plans. 'No, not this evening.' His voice was without inflection, completely detached, and she realised, with a hollowing sinking feeling, that he was only remotely conscious of her existence. His mind was already centred on the girl who was waiting for him at the Rob Roy.

'Oh, by the way, I'll probably be rather late getting back, so don't be alarmed if you hear me creeping in in the wee sma' hours.' 'I shan't,' Elizabeth replied quickly. She stood holding Alasdair's supper tray, feeling bereft, as he turned and ran lightly down the stairs. She remained in the same spot, silently listening as she heard his car drive around the side of the house and the sound of the engine receding as he sped towards Kirkloch and Linnet Peters.

CHAPTER SEVEN THE week seemed to fly on wings and suddenly Elizabeth realised that the following day would be her last complete day at Brae House. Was Kerr aware of it ? she wondered, as she banked up the fire in Alasdair's room. He had given no sign as she had helped Alasdair with the jigsaw that evening, hardly talking, while his grandfather had reminisced about olden times in Scotland. Their relationship had improved during the past few days, she was aware; the state of almost open hostility had simmered down to a few occasional sniping remarks. He would have gone to bed by the time she went downstairs again to see that everything was in order before going to her own room. But to her surprise, when she had said goodnight to Alasdair, and was going downstairs, she heard Kerr's voice calling her from the sitting-room. She went in to find him standing, his hands outstretched to the flickering flames of the dying fire, his hair glancing copper in the subdued light of the oil lamp. 'I suppose you know tomorrow will be your last day here,' he began without preamble. This was too exactly what she had been thinking to be comfortable! Would her voice reveal how conscious she was of the fact ? she wondered. 'I—I really hadn't noticed,' she began unconvincingly. 'Now that's not true,' he returned. 'You know perfectly well it's your last day, don't you?' When she did not reply, he went on, 'Will you be sorry to leave us ? Or perhaps flinging the dust of Brae House from your heels is a very pleasing prospect?'

Elizabeth was silent. Somehow it made it seem so very final to hear it put into words like this, and she knew that she had been unconsciously putting off the thought of her departure, not allowing herself to think about it. But she would not give him the satisfaction of glimpsing the depths of misery into which the thought plunged her'. 'No, of course not! I'm afraid I feel no particular emotion about it. After all, it was simply a job,' she heard herself retort with an abruptness that was close to rudeness. He glanced at her for a moment, then as swiftly his eyes returned to the dying flames of the fire. 'Oh! I thought perhaps when you came to know and love our Scottish way of life, you might care a little. I couldn't, of course, expect you to come to like me a little. That would be expecting too much!' 'It certainly would be expecting too much,' she told him. 'You don't exactly trouble to endear yourself to people.' 'Perhaps were you to stay on, you might come to regard me as a rough diamond with a heart of gold?' He was quietly mocking her, she realised and felt a rush of resentment. 'That's hardly likely,' she told him coldly. 'You wouldn't consider putting it to the test?' he inquired. 'No, certainly not. Why on earth should I?' 'Perhaps you're right,' he agreed. 'I've done nothing to endear myself to you.'

'No, you haven't! You've been horrible !. But then. when I agreed to stay, I didn't imagine it would be a bed of roses.' For a long moment he stood staring into the embers in frowning silence and she realised that his mood was no longer derisive. 'All right, so I haven't behaved particularly well? I admit it. But what about calling a truce for your last day here, so that when you look back upon your time at Brae House it won't seem entirely unpleasant?' 'What sort of truce ?' she asked suspiciously. 'Well, what about our sailing off in the Birlinn? Spending the last day of your time in the Highlands in each other's company ? We could make a strenuous effort to be nice to each other. Who knows, if we tried hard enough we might just succeed.' She hesitated. It was on the tip of her tongue to give him an abrupt refusal. After all, the invitation had not been particularly gracious! But somehow she couldn't do it. She longed to spend this one last day in his company. He was maddening, infuriating, and unpredictable, and yet she had to admit to herself that, feud as she might with him, there was no other man in the world in whose company she would rather be. She hesitated, then said rather ungraciously, 'I'm not sure. I've packing to do, and then there's your grandfather—' 'If it's Grandfather you're thinking about, don't worry. Tomorrow's the day old Saul Grieve calls to collect his carvings—at least, that's their story. The carvings are only an excuse. They meet to have a crack, to talk over old times, to argue and shout one another down. But it seems to do both of them good— it certainly helps

Grandfather a lot. He always seems to be years younger when he's had a spat with Saul.' 'Oh well, in that case—' Elizabeth agreed, with what she hoped was suitable reluctance. 'Very well, I'll come. If you feel your grandfather will understand.' . 'Of course Grandfather will understand,' he assured her. 'In fact, he understands a lot more than you'd think. All right, so it's decided—you've finally agreed to come.' 'Yes. After all, it will be my last day here.' 'And we've agreed that all is to be sweetness and light ? At least, I've promised. Do you think you could make the effort?' 'I wish you'd stop pretending that I'm bad- tempered and hard to get along with!' 'Whereas you're one of the sweetest, gentlest, most docile, timid and meek females that ever walked,' he finished with a grin. Then, his eyes meeting hers, he immediately straightened his face with a rapidity that made her long to slap him. 'We'll set off directly after breakfast,' he said with his usual decisiveness. 'The Birlinn is all in order, and as you know, the galley is well stocked. However, I leave the question of the eatables in your capable hands.' As she turned away Elizabeth could not but be aware that he had assumed she would agree to the outing. He obviously hadn't anticipated for an instant that she would turn him down. But she pretended not to notice. It would not do for her to challenge him with this. For one thing, she did not doubt that he

would win in any contest between them and, more importantly, she knew that she dearly wanted this outing with him, no matter how infuriatingly cocksure he might be. Before she went to bed she looked out the picnic hamper which it was clear had not been in use for many a year. It was of wickerwork and she carefully cleaned the surface until it was spotless. Then, as finally she went upstairs to bed, she was planning what provisions she would pack for what she knew in her heart would be one of the most important days in her life. When she was far away from Kirkloch, and the mountains and lochs of the Highlands were no more than a memory, this last day with Kerr Carmichael would be something to remember always. In the morning she was up early and when she had completed her usual duties she immediately set about packing the hamper. Salad first of all, she decided, as she put on eggs to boil hard. With the salad, she intended to have fish. And luckily this was the day in the week when the van came with fish, their scales glittering, fresh from the lochs and rivers of the Highlands. Next she stowed away a selection of fresh fruit. Then came the question of what to drink. And here Elizabeth knew she had something that was not to the hand of most housekeepers. Mrs. Meikle, for all her ratherly slatternly ways, had, it was apparent, been something of a dab hand at bottling and pickling. Elizabeth decided on a bottle of the delicious, claretlike elderberry wine stored away in the slated coolness of the pantry. She held it for a moment to the light that slanted from the small window admiring the glowing colour before she added it to the store in her basket. Crusty newly-made bread went in too- and some plates and beakers, salt and pepper in tiny sprinklers. A small plastic tub with a tight lid was then filled with the delicious creamy mayonnaise she had made herself.

Time flew, but she worked swiftly and when Kerr came down for breakfast she had cleared up all signs of her activities. He was in good spirits and lingered slightly longer over his meal than he usually did, but for once she was glad when he went out whistling to see if everything was in order on the Birlinn. This left her free to give Alasdair his breakfast. She found him busily laying out on a table near his armchair a selection of the beautifully carved wooden animals at which he was so skilful. 'Only a few for sale this time,' he was saying, 'but I do think they're amongst my best work. You see, as I grow older I remember details more clearly, and some of what I do now is more true to life than those I did when I was able to get around and about.' 'Come on, enjoy your breakfast while it's hot,' Elizabeth persuaded him. She could see he was very excited about the coming of his old crony. 'I'm sure your friend will admire them.' 'Huh! Not he,' the old man retorted. 'Argue! That's all Saul does! Would tell you black was white if you'd give him a chance—but I don't let him get away with it. Only thing I like about Saul is that he's dead straight. You could trust Saul with your last penny, and that's something that you couldn't say about—' The old man rampaged on. When she had the chance to break in again, Elizabeth reminded him of the projected sailing trip. 'You won't be lonely, will you?' she asked. 'I'll leave a snack here beside you, and—' 'Off you go! Enjoy yourself!' Alastair said absently, and she could see that his attention was on the approaching visit of his old friend. 'I can manage perfectly well by myself. I'm not a child, you know. No, no, I certainly shan't miss you. Though no doubt my grandson will if you don't go!' He glanced up at her slyly through bushy

eyebrows. 'But be sure to stand up to him! Don't let him be the boss all the time!' 'I shan't,' Elizabeth laughed, relieved that Alasdair was taking her absence so good-humouredly. Free at last to go along to her room, she changed into one of the outfits which she had not worn since her stay at the Rob Roy. When she was ready she examined herself carefully in the mirror. Had she rather overdone it? she wondered. She was wearing a short-sleeved tunic of large red and black and grey checks over flared trousers of pale grey. Over her hair she had tied a large white silk kerchief. The effect was gay and fresh-looking, she decided. On her arms were thick chunky bracelets of painted wood, shining black and white and accentuating the length and slendernes of her arms. She caught up a large canvas beach-bag which she had appliqued with bright felt whales of blue, green and yellow. Into this she stuffed a cardigan, a magazine and a small box of make-up. Then she ran downstairs, only to pause near the foot as she found Kerr peering curiously into the picnic basket which she had left in the hall. He straightened as he saw her and she was very conscious that he was taking in every detail of her appearance. 'Hum, not bad! Not bad at all.' 'I'm glad you approve,' she told him a little sharply, aware that pleasure at his words had brought colour to her cheeks. 'Yes, I approve,' he told her very deliberately. 'You know, Liza, you remind me very much of Flora Macdonald. She looked at him nonplussed. 'You mean, the Flora MacDonald ?'

'Who else?' 'But why Flora MacDonald, of all people ?' 'Because, like her, you know your own mind. You know what style of dress suits you. In fact, you're yourself—which is a very refreshing thing—or at least I find it so.' 'Oh!' She stood on the last-but-one step at the foot of the stairs, pleased yet wary, not knowing quite how to take him. For a moment she wished she had Linnet's beauty and self-confidence. How complacently she would receive his compliments, confident of their sincerity and with no nagging doubts that they contained covert mockery. He spared her the problem of deciding how to answer by abruptly changing the subject. 'A very dainty basket it is,' he complimented her judiciously, 'but I'm sorry—and surprised too, I must say—to see that it's rather short on the more solid eatables. There's nothing like sailing for giving one an appetite and I feel that a salad at the end of the day would hardly be sufficiently satisfying. You haven't one of your delicious and filling casserole dishes hidden somewhere down there in the depths?' 'No casseroles today,' Elizabeth told him severely. 'It's just not the day for something so mundane. We're having trout instead.' 'I see. And just why is it such a special sort of day ?' She glanced away as she saw the gleam in his bright blue eyes. 'Well, it's certainly not one for stew. It's so—so—' 'Unromantic ?'

'I didn't mean that,' she said hastily. 'You feel then that trout and salad is the food of love, as the poet might have said ? Is that it ?' 'Oh, you're infuriating!' She made a great business of fastening one of the straps on the basket. She was about to lift it down from the table, but he said, 'Let me take that—and act the little gentleman for once.' Arrived at the door, they found the fish van driving up and Elizabeth stood demurely by while Kerr purchased the pick of the fish-man's stock of trout and popped them into the basket. She felt her heart sing as they walked towards the Birlinn. 'It's a ketch, isn't it?' she asked as he helped her aboard. 'Yes, you can tell by the double masts. It's rather like another twomasted boat called the yawl, except that in the ketch the mainsail and the mizzen—that's the one at the back—are rather more of the same size. The ketch rig is very handy for sailing in a strong breeze, which means you needn't be afraid of the open seas, at the same time it's useful in home waters and around the islands.' He stowed the hamper away below while Elizabeth settled herself comfortably in a canvas deck-chair. She saw the muscles on his brown arms tauten as he adjusted the sails and slowly the Birlinn swung away from the jetty. Elizabeth lay back in her chair, her face tilted to the sky watching the white puffs of cloud speed overhead. How wonderful, she thought, to sail on and on beyond the Hebrides into the western ocean and see the wild seabirds wheeling in the clear tingling air.

'Well, what are you dreaming about?' She glanced over her shoulder to find Kerr regarding her quizzically. 'Oh, just that it would be wonderful to sail on beyond the horizon.' 'So you feel that way too! Well, if I ever do decide to sail off into the blue some day I'll choose you as my shipmate.' 'I should have imagined you'd prefer someone more like Flora MacDonald,' she said demurely. He shook his head in mock solemnity. 'Oh no, I'm afraid Flora MacDonald would be much too ladylike for my taste. After hobnobbing with Bonnie Prince Charlie, she'd be sure to consider me an extremely rough diamond.' For a moment Elizabeth remembered him as he had looked that evening when he had gone to join Linnet at the Rob Roy. How perfectly his dinner- jacket had fitted his broad shoulders, and what an air he had had of suavity and sophistication. 'But that's not true,' she said impulsively. He raised his brows inquiringly. 'What's not true?' 'Why, that you're a rough diamond!' Immediately she had said the words she saw that she had blundered, but realised that it was hopeless to try to retrieve the situation. 'And why exactly should you assume that I'm not a rough diamond? You've certainly never given me the impression that you consider me a Reggie Latimer type, so what on earth can have made you change your mind?'

'It was that evening—I mean, when you were going to meet Linnet,' Elizabeth blundered on. 'You looked anything but—but—' 'So you remember me in all my finery! Really, Liza, I didn't realise you were making such a close study of me. It's quite flattering.' He was, she knew, deliberately inveigling her into a false position, yet there was enough truth in his last statement for her to say defensively, 'I can't imagine why you asked me to come today and then deliberately try to pick a quarrel.' 'Now, now, Liza,' he said soothingly, 'don't lose your temper. Remember there's a truce on.' Then as she was about to reply, she saw that his attention had been claimed as they sailed towards Kirkloch. He was no longer even aware of her presence, she realised, feeling frustrated. But then perhaps that was the way it would always be! When it came to the claims of the Birlinn she would always be a very poor second. How annoying, she thought, to have to play second fiddle to a boat. But it was difficult to remain angry, for Kirkloch was an entrancing picture in the glorious morning sun; the old-world shops and houses could be seen reflected in the waters of the loch and behind were piled the jagged blue outlines of the mountains. 'I think you'd better do something about those trout,' Kerr said at length, without turning. 'There's nothing like a bit of cookery for soothing a woman's temper.' 'Oh, very well,' she said resignedly, as she got to her feet. 'I suppose you're hungry already, but it's really hardly any time since breakfast.' Then, as her eye fell on her watch, she realised that the morning had slid away more quickly than she had imagined.

As she was about to go below, the jetty of the Rob Roy came into sight and she could see a girl dressed in deep cyclamen pink seated on one of the bollards. Something familiar in the attitude of the figure and the slightness of the build made her think that it was Linnet—but what on earth would Linnet be doing, seated by herself, staring out over the loch on a fine sunny morning? It seemed completely impossible. Elizabeth dismissed the idea as a fancy and going below began to prepare lunch. She put a light to the butane gas cooker and while the pan was heating, rolled the fish in oatmeal. As she did so she thought she felt the boat curve off course, but took no further notice and busied herself setting the pull-up laminated plastic table while the fish sizzled gently in the pan. Suddenly she realised that the Birlinn had stopped, and glancing through one of the portholes she could see that a jetty was towering high above her head. Next moment she heard Kerr's deep voice saying, 'Come on, jump for it,' and an instant later a figure in deep pink blurred past the porthole. In a moment or two she heard Linnet's voice on deck say happily, 'Well, Kerr, you've come to the rescue—as always. I was so frightfully bored, I don't think I could have stood another moment of it.' 'But then I always come to the rescue, don't I, Kitten?' Elizabeth could hear Kerr say. 'You're glad to see me?' Linnet was inquiring provocatively. 'Of course I'm glad! I shouldn't have considered taking you on board for a second if I hadn't wanted to see you.' Elizabeth could visualise Linnet's delighted pout as she replied. 'You know, you're really rather horrid, Kerr. You never do

anything you don't want to do, do you? But I didn't want you to feel impelled to take me on board when I waved to you.' 'But how could one want anything but to take you on board? You're the kind of girl who leaves a man with no choice.' Elizabeth could hear Linnet's delighted trill of laughter. 'Oh well, as long as you don't grow bored with me!' 'You know I'm never bored with you, Kitten.' Then they moved away and although she could hear the intimate tones of their voices, Elizabeth could no longer make out the words. Once again she felt movement shudder through the boat and realised they were moving away from the jetty now that Linnet was safely aboard. She could hardly contain the bitter disappointment that seemed to well up in her heart. How could he have done this to her? It was all too obvious that, as soon as he had caught sight of Linnet, he had curved the boat over to the jetty of the Rob Roy while she was engaged below in cooking their meal. So he had forgotten already that it was to have been her day, her last day alone with him before she left Brae House for good! She sank down on one of the settees in a mood of bitter resentment and jealousy. What were they saying to each other now? she wondered. She felt she had to know. Gradually and almost half unconsciously she found herself getting to her feet and creeping half way up the steps of the companionway. She crouched there and now she once again could hear what they were saying, although she dared not raise her head to look.

'When I'm with you I feel so alive!' Linnet was saying exultantly. 'Life seems wonderful. All the time we were parted I was thinking of you. You're the only man in the world for me, Kerr—but then I think you know that.' 'Do you really mean to tell me your mind was fixed on me during all those months? That there was no other man in your life ?' he asked. His tone was ambiguous and Elizabeth would have given a lot to have dared to raise her head that she might glimpse his expression. She felt that a single glance would have been enough to tell her whether his heart was in his words, or whether his mood was no more than mildly teasing. 'You know perfectly well, Kerr, that there's no other man for me,' Linnet was saying huskily. There was a long silence after this and Elizabeth could hear the whisper of soft endearments. She could only too clearly visualise Linnet's arms creeping about Kerr's neck and the long kiss that would follow. Sick at heart, she retreated down the companionway and stood uncertainly in the cabin gazing abstractedly at the table which she had set so attractively for two. What did her efforts matter now ? For a moment she felt tempted to brush the china and cutlery to the floor in a gesture of frustration. Then, with a gasp, she realised that the cabin was beginning to fill with acrid smoke and that the trout were burning in the pan. She dashed across the floor and caught up the pan by the handle. The precious fish were sticking to the pan which was giving off a cloud of greasy fumes and the sickening smell of scorched fish.

Her rescue attempt had come too late—the fish were hopelessly charred. Then, to crown her confusion and humiliation, while she was still standing there indecisively, the pan in her hand, Kerr come clattering down the companionway. 'What on earth is happening ?' 'I do hope the smell hasn't upset Linnet too much. I know how delicately she's been brought up,' Elizabeth said tartly—then immediately regretted her words as she saw his eyes twinkle with amusement. 'No, I don't suppose it will affect Linnet in the slightest, apart from the small matter that there'll be no trout for lunch.' 'Oh, that needn't get her down. You have plenty of tins, after all. She can have bully beef and ship's biscuits,' Elizabeth snapped, unable to control her disappointment at the ruin of her day. It was then Linnet appeared on the companionway behind Kerr. She took a step or two into the cabin and stood, a handkerchief delicately pressed against her nose. 'Oh, you're here,' she remarked indifferently. 'I didn't know you were aboard.' There was something insulting in her very lack of reaction to Elizabeth's presence. It's because I really don't count, Elizabeth thought dully. Whether I'm here or not really doesn't make any difference to her. I'm no possible competition. 'But what is that revolting smell ?' Linnet demanded.

'It's the smell of burning trout,' Elizabeth informed her. 'They're quite ruined, so I suppose I'd better fling them out.' She moved towards the companionway, glad to be able to leave the small cabin, but as she was about to pass him, Kerr caught her arm. His voice was gently and faintly teasing. 'Don't give way to despair, Liza! As you mentioned, we've plenty of tinned things, and old sea dogs like ourselves should be well able to tackle a helping of bully beef and ship's biscuits—if there's such a thing aboard. So serve out the grub and let's eat, me hearties!' 'I suppose I could concoct something,' Elizabeth agreed with bad grace. 'In that case I'll go on deck,' Linnet said hurriedly, obviously relieved at the opportunity to retreat from the fume-filled cabin. She glanced proprietorially at Kerr. 'Well, are you coming up? Or do you intend to help Elizabeth, although I fancy she can manage without your help.' 'Yes, do go,' Elizabeth said shortly. 'I can manage perfectly well on my own.' 'Oh well, if you insist,' said Kerr, with an air of reluctance, as he followed Linnet up the companionway. When they had gone, Elizabeth opened the lockers and gave their contents a thorough inspection. Then, for a moment, she stood irresolutely. There was such a variety of tinned goods that it was hard to make a decision. Some of the items were unusual and exotic; it would be pleasant to concoct an elaborate meal from their contents. She could imagine Linnet's surprise, and who knew, Kerr himself might even be impressed by her ingenuity.

Pleasant as the thought was, she discarded it as a little imp of mischief gave her another idea. Kerr had jokingly mentioned bully beef and ship's biscuits. Well, she would take him at his word and prepare the nearest substitute—corned beef hash. Immediately she set to work. The sound of Linnet's trilling laughter and Kerr's deep answering murmur lent speed to her fingers. Even if Linnet had spoiled her day, she had no intention of being incarcerated below in the stuffy heat of the cabin a moment longer than was necessary. Apart from that, she was finding it difficult to suppress a mischievous feeling of glee that bubbled up in her as she visualised Linnet's reactions to her culinary efforts. Nor was she disappointed when with the hash steaming on a large serving-plate she summoned the other two to come below. Linnet came into the cabin expectantly enough. Then as her eyes took in the unappetising plate of hash her mouth drew in with an involuntary grimace of revulsion. 'And to think that Kerr was boasting of what a wonderful cook you are! What a disgusting mess! You don't really expect us to eat it, do you?' But Kerr had moved forward and it was clear that he intended to insert his bulk behind the table, his expression that of a man who is looking forward to a meal with every sign of enjoyment. Slowly Linnet took a few steps forward. 'Kerr, you're not thinking seriously of eating that dreadful mush, are you?' He regarded her with faint surprise. 'Why not, may I ask? It looks to me a perfectly appetising hash. Almost up to my own standard! Even if I do say so myself, I flatter myself I'm one of the most expert hash-slingers in the whole of Western Scotland.' 'It's not funny, Kerr,' Linnet said shortly.

'Come on, Linnet, take your place and let's get started,' he said. But she insisted on perching herself sulkily on one of the settees while Elizabeth spooned out a generous portion of hash on to Kerr's plate. Then, serving herself, Elizabeth took her place opposite Kerr. When he had consumed most of his meal with every evidence of satisfaction Kerr, as though at last becoming aware of Linnet's attitude, said, 'Really, why don't you join us, Linnet, instead of sitting over there looking on like an avenging angel ? It's enough to give a man indigestion.' 'That stuff will certainly give you indigestion,' Linnet snapped. Kerr merely helped himself to another forkful and Linnet, as though at last realising that her protests were to be ignored, burst out, 'Do you realise I've had nothing to eat, or does the fact not concern you in the slightest ?' Feeling a little guilty and ashamed of her behaviour, Elizabeth got to her feet. 'There's salad and fruit in the hamper, Linnet. I'll get it for you.' 'Oh, don't bother! I'll fetch it myself. I'm not exactly helpless, you know.' But Linnet sounded mollified as she peered into the hamper. 'Oh, a bottle of wine ! Things are becoming positively civilised!' 'I'm afraid it's only a bottle of Mrs. Meikle's elderberry wine, but it's really splendid,' Elizabeth explained. 'Yes, Mrs. Meikle had her points. It's really a pity she left. It was such a suitable arrangement,' Linnet rejoined pointedly, as she

helped herself to salad and mayonnaise while Elizabeth reached down glasses. 'A suitable arrangement!' Kerr laughed boisterously. 'You sound extremely Victorian, Linnet— considering you're not particularly strait-laced yourself.' At his remark Linnet had the grace to look faintly uncomfortable. 'Well, you know how people talk, Kerr!' 'Do they? I've never been particularly interested in local gossip— and anyway, Linnet, you can set your mind at rest regarding Liza's presence at Brae House, because this happens to be her last day with us. So lift up your glass and let's drink to her future!' Linnet's pretty mouth fell open with astonishment. 'Your last day at Brae House, Elizabeth? But why?' Then a sudden suspicion seized her. 'You two have quarrelled! Is that it ?' But it was clear that the idea gave her no pleasure, and Elizabeth realised this was because it suggested that they were on intimate enough terms to disagree so bitterly that Elizabeth felt impelled to leave. 'Not exactly right!' Kerr told her. 'You see, when Liza came to Brae House, she did so on the understanding that she would remain only a single week and no longer.' Linnet put down her fork. 'But what an extraordinary arrangement,' she remarked slowly. 'Why on earth, for only a week ? It doesn't make sense.' Then, as though smitten by a bright idea, she said, 'I suppose it was on a sort of trial basis you engaged her and she hasn't proved satisfactory?'

This idea seemed to please her so much that Elizabeth could not suppress a little glow of pleasure as she saw Linnet's face fall as Kerr shook his head. 'On the contrary, it was an arrangement between us.' 'What sort of arrangement ?' Linnet insisted. Elizabeth was now aware that Kerr was glancing across at her, amusement glittering in his blue eyes. 'Let's say, it was a little private arrangement, best kept between the two of us.' 'Oh! If you don't want to discuss it, of course,' Linnet returned huffily, 'I certainly shan't pry. But the whole thing does seem extraordinary.' 'But then Liza is an extraordinary sort of person,' Kerr said solemnly. 'Obviously!' Linnet sniffed. 'Although I must say when I discovered her re-doing the hall to her own taste, I assumed she intended to settle in and enjoy the results of her labours.' 'Ah, that's where you show a lack of perception,' Kerr informed her, 'for Liza's the sort of girl who sweeps in, makes an uneradicable impression, turns our lives topsy-turvy, then departs hurriedly for pastures new.' 'If that's the case, then Kerr's right in saying you're an unusual sort of person,' Linnet informed Elizabeth acidly. 'Ah, but then only an extraordinary girl could have dished up such a superlative hash,' Kerr agreed.

'Oh, Kerr, you really are impossible!' Linnet exclaimed, getting abruptly to her feet. It was obvious the conversation was not running along the lines she had planned. 'It's really very hot and stuffy in here and the smell of cooking is positively overpowering. I think I'll go on deck,' she announced, then hesitated and glanced undecidedly at Elizabeth. 'I suppose I'm expected to offer to wash or dry the dishes ! I don't know why, but somehow it always seems to be assumed that when two females get together, they're simply dying to have a chummy chat over the washing-up.' 'Oh, don't bother,' Elizabeth returned equably. 'I certainly can't imagine you and me getting together over the dishes, or anything else.' She heard Kerr chuckle as he followed Linnet up the companionway, and immediately regretted that she had allowed herself to become embroiled in an argument with Linnet, for it was evident that Kerr was thoroughly enjoying the sparring between them. To get over her annoyance she dashed around the tiny cabin, washing up the dishes and storing everything away in lockers before going on deck. She found Linnet perched on the rail. The keen wind had touched her cheek with a delicate pink and her hair flowed back from her forehead so that she looked like a windswept goddess as the ketch sped through the water. She smiled brightly as Elizabeth came on deck. 'I am sorry to have spoiled your last day here. Naturally you would have enjoyed it better if I hadn't butted in.'

'Why naturally?' Elizabeth asked shortly. Linnet shrugged, and pushed a wisp of hair from her eyes. 'Because you wanted to be alone with Kerr. Anyone could see that—at least any other girl could. By the way, I'm sure you won't mind if I say that your rig-out is very fetching. I must say you certainly know what suits you. Considering you're leaving Brae House, it seems to me you've taken a vast deal of trouble to impress Kerr before you go.' Embarrassed, Elizabeth glanced quickly at Kerr, who was seated by the tiller. 'Oh, don't worry,' Linnet laughed lightly. 'He can't hear us. Anyway, why should you play the shrinking violet? He must have guessed by now that you're crazy about him.' 'That's nonsense!' Elizabeth retorted sharply. 'Why should I have decided to leave Brae House if I'm—as you describe it—crazy about him?' 'Because you expected that by facing Kerr with your impending departure you'd bring him up to scratch. Well, it looks to me as if your ploy has failed dismally. As far as I can see, Kerr is quite unmoved by the fact that Brae House is going to have to manage without your services.' Linnet swayed back and forth on the rail, her head flung back, her tiny white teeth showing in a triumphant smile. For a moment, in spite of her annoyance at Linnet's needling tactics, Elizabeth felt a fleeting anxiety concerning Linnet's perch as the ketch swayed and bobbed through the waves. 'Don't you think you'd better come down?' she suggested.

Linnet's laughter was plucked away by the wind. 'Now you're trying to change the subject, aren't you ? By the way, just how is old Alasdair faring while you pursue Kerr? He has been left alone all day—and you're supposed to be the housekeeper!' 'How dare you say such things!' Elizabeth exclaimed, her patience at an end. Linnet, her face exultant at the reaction her words had evoked, went on inexorably, 'I suppose the poor, neglected creature hasn't even had anything to eat, although it's obvious you packed a picnic basket expecting to have a cosy meal with Kerr in the cabin. Not that I blame you for flinging yourself at his head ! To a girl in your position, Kerr Carmichael of Brae House would be quite a catch, no doubt—' But she got no further. On an instant two things happened simultaneously. 'How dare you say such things!' Elizabeth cried, taking an angry step towards Linnet. At that moment the sails billowed, the Birlinn heeled and Linnet was abruptly jerked from her seat on the rails. As she was hurled from her perch she reached out wildly, caught hold of the rails and hung on grimly. Elizabeth gave a horrified scream, and before Linnet's fingers could relax their precarious hold Kerr was there to reach down and drag her dripping on to the deck. For a little while she lay there spluttering and shocked by her narrow escape. Then, perhaps realising that she was not presenting a particularly attractive figure, she sat up and pushed the sodden and lank strands of hair from her wet face. She raised an accusing finger and pointed at Elizabeth, bent solicitously over her, 'You pushed me in,' she cried in ringing tones. 'You deliberately flung me overboard!'

CHAPTER EIGHT ELIZABETH drew in her breath in horrified amazement. 'Nonsense! You don't know what you're saying. You're shocked,' Kerr told Linnet. 'Come on, I'll help you down into the cabin. Once you're out of those wet clothes you'll feel better.' Linnet ignored this. She sat upright, and snapped, 'Don't talk to me as if I were delirious. I know perfectly well what happened. Elizabeth deliberately pushed me off the rail.' 'But why on earth should she do such a thing?' he demanded impatiently. 'Because she objected to something I was saying!' 'So you two were quarrelling!' he remarked exasperatedly. 'No, not exactly quarrelling! It was just that Elizabeth resented hearing the truth about herself.' 'Most people do,' he told her drily. 'But not to the extent of pitching one overboard! Elizabeth has a vile temper. Perhaps you've already had a sample of it yourself.' 'Perhaps!' he said shortly. Then, reaching down, he caught Linnet's wrists and pulled her to her feet. 'You'd better get down into the cabin,' he told her. 'You can wrap yourself in a blanket in the meantime, while we head back for Kirkloch.' Elizabeth could hear Linnet's protesting voice as they disappeared below. Did Kerr really believe Linnet's ridiculous accusation? she wondered. Why on earth had she not defended herself instead of

standing in frozen silence while Linnet made her preposterous remarks? Perhaps it had been because they had been too incredible to be taken seriously. But had they seemed so far-fetched to Kerr? She could remember the anger that had thrilled through her at some of Linnet's mocking jibes. But surely he could not believe that she would deliberately push Linnet overboard? Perhaps from his position, seated by the tiller, the sudden step forward she had taken had seemed like a threat to Linnet. When he appeared on deck again, she hastened to exonerate herself. 'It's not true,' she began immediately. 'I didn't push Linnet. She was sitting on the rails and when the boat lurched, she—' 'For heaven's sake don't let's worry any more about it,' he interrupted her. 'She's quite safe, fortunately, so all's well that end's well. Let's head back for Kirkloch and home, because I must say I, for one, am heartily sick of the whole expedition.' Elizabeth bit her lip. She turned her head away so that he could not see the tears that had sprung to her eyes. Surely he didn't believe Linnet's preposterous accusation! But if he had seen her quick angry movement towards Linnet, how was she to convince him, in the face of Linnet's angry accusation, that it wasn't true? Arrived in Kirkloch, Elizabeth waited on board while Kerr escorted Linnet, a blanket over her crumpled and water-stained pink linen suit, back to the hotel. As time passed she began to feel more and more in the position of a culprit. How on earth would she be able to convince Kerr that the incident had been only an accident? As she waited, slumped in a deckchair, she could only too clearly visualise the stir in the hotel as Linnet returned looking so spectacularly different from the spruce and soignée figure who

had set out that morning. Would she announce to all who cared to listen that she had deliberately been thrown overboard? From what she knew of Linnet Peters it seemed highly probable. It was likely that, at the moment, the Rob Roy was ringing with the story of Linnet's narrow escape from drowning. As she watched Kerr stride back towards the Birlinn, Elizabeth found her hands clenched, the nails biting into the palms. Instinctively she knew that any explanation she might give would only make matters worse; she would only become the object of one of his brusque and astringent remarks. So she said nothing, and in a strained silence they sailed back to Brae House. When they arrived, Kerr disappeared in the direction of the farm buildings while Elizabeth went straight upstairs to her room and changed into a simple cotton dress. Then she went along to Alasdair's room and was surprised to find it empty and the embers burning low in the grate. There were plenty of logs in the straw container beside the hearth and she piled them on and soon had a fine warm fire crackling up the chimney. The carved animals which had been displayed on the table beside the armchair were now missing, so it was clear that Saul Grieve had called and that Alasdair would still be able to rely on the small income from his hobby which enabled him to buy his own tobacco and other small necessities and to feel that he still had a measure of independence. Elizabeth hurried downstairs feeling faintly disturbed about Alasdair's absence from his room. She found him in the sittingroom, hunched up in an armchair before the cold and empty grate. 'Well, this is a fine time to get back!' he greeted her gruffly. 'Not a squeak of fire in the grate and I'm ravenous for my tea.'

It was only then Elizabeth realised that, what with Linnet's arrival on board the Birlinn and her subsequent accident, they had been away longer than they had intended. 'But why didn't you stay in your room ?' she asked. 'Your fire was lit. The room was warm when I left and there were plenty of logs in the basket to your hand.' 'I came down because I wanted to come down,' Alasdair told her with dignity. 'I suppose I'm at liberty to move around as I wish in my own home! Or are you turning into another Mrs. Meikle, so that a man hasn't a bit of freedom under his own roof?' Elizabeth sighed. Alasdair was in one of his fractious moods and, as usual, when in one of his rare fits of bad humour, was letting those around him feel the sharp edge of his tongue. She made no further attempt to persuade him to return to his room, but instead set to work to light a fire. When the room was warm and he had had an appetising meal, she was able to gather the full story of the day. As ill luck would have it, Saul, who usually had unlimited time to spend with his old friend, had for once been in a hurry : he had stayed only long enough to collect the carvings and to assist in devouring the sandwiches and flask of hot tea which Elizabeth had left for Alasdair. Then he had hurried away, leaving the old man fretful for the rest of the day. In every way her last day at Brae House had proved disastrous, Elizabeth was thinking wearily as eventually she climbed the stairs to her room that evening. Not once had she caught sight of Kerr, although she had spun out her last few duties as long as possible in the hope that he might make one of his sudden appearances in the kitchen. And in the hope also—although this she would not admit

to herself—that he might ask her to stay on. But when eventually she had lit the lamp she had been conscious of the shadows in the kitchen and a sense of lonely isolation had made her seek her own bedroom. By his very absence, Kerr had made it plain that he expected her to leave on the following day. Abstractedly she struck a match and put a light to her lamp with the ease now of a practised hand. Well, at least from her stay in the Highlands she would be bringing back with her the ability to handle oil lamps, she was thinking a little sardonically. Outside the mountains were clearly outlined against the light opalescent sky. Soon it would be summer here—a time when the days would be so long that lamps would hardly be needed. Summer in the Highlands with all its loveliness, but she would not be here to see it! Why had she allowed herself to hope with such certainty that Kerr would ask her to stay on? She should have remembered how stubborn and unyielding he could be. No, she had only herself to blame! She herself had made the rules and must abide by them. But in those early days she was not to know how completely she was to fall in love with Kerr Carmichael. In spite of this, it was with a sense of incredulity that on the following morning Elizabeth found herself emptying her wardrobe and clearing away her possessions from the dressing-table. Somehow it didn't seem possible that she could really be leaving Brae House. When she had finished packing, she tidied up the room. At least it would be in apple-pie order for its next occupant. She hesitated at the door before going down to breakfast, trying not to think too much of her coming departure.

She sat across the table from Kerr, sipping her tea in silence. He had not discussed with her how he was going to manage until he had made arrangements for another housekeeper. Perhaps he would get someone from the village to come in on a temporary basis. She; felt a faint unease as she thought of Alasdair. Would whoever supplanted her take note of his little preferences? Would the newcomer think, perhaps, that serving his porridge in a coggie was just an unnecessary and troublesome addition to her duties? 'You're looking worried.' Kerr interrupted her thoughts drily. She looked up to find his blue eyes fixed on her with a hard direct stare. 'Oh!' She fingered the handle of her cup, realising that some explanation for her brooding silence was expected. 'I suppose I was wondering how your grandfather would manage when—when I'm gone.' 'Not how poor Kerr will manage?' 'Oh, I expect you'll manage very well,' she retorted. But she was annoyed to find that her voice lacked incisiveness. It seemed to her that it had wavered slightly, as though she were not altogether confident in her assertion. 'And why should you expect I'll manage, may I ask?' he demanded, his voice hard. 'Perhaps you'll get someone from the village until you're fixed up with a proper housekeeper,' she suggested hurriedly. 'Thanks!' he rejoined drily. 'I can see you have it all mapped out pretty well.'

Elizabeth glanced at her watch and put down her cup. 'I expect it's time I was setting off for the station —that's if you'll drive me.' He got to his feet with such abruptness that his chair crashed on the stone floor. 'You don't really think I intended you to walk to the station, do you?' he asked exasperatedly. 'It's just that I wondered—' she began, then found herself unable to go on. 'Wondered?' 'Yes, I wondered if you felt that I deliberately knocked Linnet overboard. I mean, if you felt that, you might not want to—' 'Oh, don't be so ridiculous!' he interrupted brusquely. 'I know perfectly well what happened. I had my eye on both of you. I was finding your encounter interesting, even though I couldn't hear what you were saying. Your expressions were graphic enough.' 'Yes, I expect you found it amusing,' Elizabeth said bitterly. 'Whether I did or not is beside the question. After all, when you leave Kirkloch, you and Linnet are hardly likely to encounter each other again. As for myself, well, it's not likely we'll meet again, is it?' 'No,' she replied flatly. Then in case he should see the tears that had risen to her eyes she turned swiftly to the door, saying, 'I suppose I'd better fasten my cases.' And before he could offer to carry them down for her, she

ran upstairs. It would be a chance for her to linger a few moments longer in the room which she had come to look upon as her own. As she heard him drive the car around to the front of the house, Elizabeth straightened the corners of the bedspread, picked up her cases and with a last look around, walked towards the door. She stiffened and the handles of the cases slid through her fingers as there came to her ears the horrifying sound of a body tumbling downstairs. She knew instantly what had happened because she could also hear the dry ricocheting of a walking stick as it bounced from step to step. The sounds were followed by a silence that left Elizabeth standing petrified. Then she heard a soft moan and, wrenching open the door, she sped to the top of the stairs. Alasdair lay at the bottom in an untidy heap. As she ran downstairs, Kerr came through the main door and with a quick exclamation was at the old man's side. Her face white, Elizabeth watched as Kerr gently lifted him into a sitting position. It was Alasdair himself who broke the silence and to Elizabeth's relief said crossly, 'Well, what are you two looking so solemn about? You'd think a body had never fallen downstairs before.' With Kerr's help he struggled to his feet. 'There, you see I'm as right as rain.' But his inadvertent wince of pain as Kerr took his arm belied his words. 'It's your wrist, isn't it?' Kerr demanded. Alasdair nodded. 'Yes, but there are no bones broken, so don't fash yourself about me, it will be soon mended.' But in spite of the fact that he was making light of his injury, Elizabeth could see he was white to the lips.

'I'll make tea,' she said quickly. 'Yes, do,' Kerr returned with his usual peremptoriness. 'And make it strong and sweet. I think he's badly shocked.' 'Shocked, indeed !' Alasdair snorted as Kerr led him towards a sofa. At Kerr's insistence he lay down and some of his colour returned when he had sipped the hot brew that Elizabeth held to his lips. To Kerr's relief, he discovered it was, as Alasdair had insisted, a sprained wrist. Yet as far as Alasdair was concerned this was a calamity. Apart from the pain and inconvenience of the injury it would mean that not for a long time would he be able to return to his beloved wood-carving. When his wrist had been firmly bandaged, Alasdair dozed off and Elizabeth had time to draw a breath and consider her position. She glanced at her watch and smiled ruefully. 'Well, I've certainly missed my train, but I suppose I can catch the afternoon one.' 'Must you catch any?' he asked abruptly. Elizabeth gazed at him in astonishment. 'What do you mean?' 'I didn't mention it, but Grandfather told me he was going to ask you to stay on. He had his little speech all made up. I shouldn't be surprised that it was the excitement of it all that made him tumble on the stairs.' His voice had been ambiguous, but somehow Elizabeth felt an unaccountable sense of guilt. Had he really meant to imply that her

resolve to leave Brae House had been the cause of Alasdair's accident ? 'I don't see that I had any choice but to leave,' she said defensively. 'Did I say you had ?' He reached down a pipe and began to fill it with a leisurely air that further antagonised Elizabeth. After all, she had been on the point of departure and now Kerr was behaving as coolly as if Alasdair's accident had completely changed the situation. 'What I suggest,' he went on, calmly applying a light to his pipe, 'is that you stay on until Grandfather has recovered. It's not as if you had a job to go to. You won't be letting anyone down if you decide to remain.' Elizabeth stared at him doubtfully. Somehow she sensed that in spite of his casual attitude, he was waiting tensely for her decision. 'I can't say you're being particularly gracious,' she sniffed. He grinned. 'But then I'm not a particularly gracious person, am I? Who should know that better than you ?' 'No, you're not,' she retorted shortly. 'And it's fairly obvious to me that you want me to stay on simply to suit your own convenience.' He puffed on his pipe and raised his eyebrows questioningly. 'Now, why on earth should you take that attitude ? You know Grandfather likes and trusts you, and I'll not deny that life at Brae House runs on oiled wheels when you're in charge. So there's no reason why you shouldn't stay, unless of course you dislike Grandfather—or, for that matter, myself.'

'But of course I like your grandfather,' Elizabeth replied warmly. 'He's a wonderful old man and in fact I'm very fond of him.' 'But you're not equally fond of me! Is that the trouble ?' His voice was unaccentuated, but Elizabeth detected the underlying tone of mockery and felt her cheeks redden. 'If I do stay on, it will be entirely because of your grandfather's accident,' she replied pointedly. Kerr adopted a chastened look that didn't in any way deceive her. 'Very well, so it's decided. You'll deign to stay on— but only on Grandfather's account. Don't worry, I'll be sure to keep that in mind.' Elizabeth got to her feet. 'I suppose, in that case, I'd better unpack,' she announced, and wondered afterwards if he had detected the ring of gladness in her voice for, as she left the room, he was watching her speculatively. No longer chastened, his blue eyes had a devil of mischief lurking in their depths. Had he guessed how eagerly she had snatched at Alasdair's accident to buy a respite? She would not now be leaving Brae House. Her heart was filled with happiness as she opened the door and saw her cases there in the old familiar room, tumbled on the floor where she had let them fall at the sound of Alasdair's accident. That night she would again sleep under the same roof as Kerr Carmichael, and awaken to another heavenly Highland morning. As the days passed, however, Elizabeth was to discover that Alasdair's fall meant great changes in the routine of the household.

Unable now to pursue his wood-carving, he found time hanging heavy on his hands, and Elizabeth spent many hours reading to him his favourite stories of the old romantic times in the Highlands. He loved, too, to reminisce about bygone days in Kirkloch, and she made a ready listener. In the evenings Kerr would assist him down to the sitting-room, where once again Elizabeth was in demand for her help, with the jigsaw which was making slow progress. It was she who, on Alasdair's instructions, placed the pieces to his satisfaction. As time passed Alasdair came to rely on her more and more. It was clear that he liked her and was happy in her company, and on the evening that the last piece was laid in the jigsaw he said abruptly, 'You're a good girl, Elizabeth. I wish you were able to bide with us for good and all.' Feeling slightly embarrassed, Elizabeth murmured an inarticulate reply, but Kerr, sitting at a table by a window going over farm accounts and filling in forms, made no comment. There was a constraint between them now that Elizabeth was at a loss to explain. Was Kerr regretting that he had been forced by circumstances to ask a favour, resentful of the fact that he had had no option but to ask her to stay on—even though it had been for his grandfather's sake? Matters came to a head one morning when, at breakfast, the phone rang. Elizabeth got up and went into the hall to answer it. With a little stab of apprehension, she discovered that it was Linnet who was on the line. 'Oh, it's you, is it ?' the girl said frigidly. 'Tell Kerr I want to speak to him.'

Elizabeth hesitated for a moment. Kerr was not usually at his most amiable in the mornings and she had no idea how he might receive this peremptory demand. 'Did you hear what I said ?' Linnet asked sharply. 'He's at breakfast. Perhaps I could give him a message?' Elizabeth queried lamely. The girl laughed shortly. 'No, you certainly can't. Oh, I know there's nothing you'd like better than to keep us apart, even to the extent of trying to get rid of me. You don't think I've forgotten that little incident, do you ?' Elizabeth felt her heart thud agitatedly at the virulence in the girl's tones. Surely she couldn't be referring to the unfortunate accident on the Birlinn? she thought with dismay. For somehow she had imagined that Linnet's reactions then had been due to shock. Now, however, Linnet made it perfectly plain that she had no intention of letting the incident fade into oblivion. 'You may have convinced Kerr that it was an accident, but I happen to know better, so don't waste your time acting the innocent with me,' came Linnet's clear, hard voice. Elizabeth laid down the receiver on the table with a crash and went into the kitchen, her cheeks flaming with angry colour. 'Well, who is it?' 'It's Linnet Peters,' Elizabeth said shortly. 'She wants to talk to you.' 'I see.' He observed her keenly. 'It seems to me that you two girls haven't exactly been exchanging compliments.'

For a moment Elizabeth considered passing the incident off as casually as. possible, but found it impossible to contain her feelings. 'Linnet Peters is accusing me of pushing her off the Birlinn.' Kerr sighed, and stood up, evidently regretting his interest. 'Linnet's rather spoiled. She's used to getting her whims and fancies catered for. I expect she doesn't realise how preposterous such an accusation is.' 'Oh yes, she does,' Elizabeth burst out, 'and I do wish you'd point out to her that you saw what happened and explain that the yacht heeled and she lost her balance. I had nothing whatsoever to do with it.' Kerr paused by the door. 'I shall do nothing of the sort,' he told her coolly. 'What!' she gazed at him in dismay. 'You don't really mean you think—' 'I think nothing of the sort,' he replied. 'It's just that this is between you and Linnet. I'm not going to get mixed up in your ridiculous squabbles. And I'm certainly not going to fight your battles with Linnet. You're well able to take care of yourself. I see no reason why I should interfere.' 'But—but she can't go on saying things like that!' Elizabeth stammered. 'Let's face it, you and Linnet don't get on together,' he cut her short. 'You're building this up into a great grievance, but actually it's just that you can't stand each other. I saw it plainly enough myself, but when I was foolish enough to have two of you aboard at the same time I was asking for trouble.'

He strode from the kitchen and Elizabeth could hear the change in his tone of voice as he spoke to Linnet. Now it was soft, cajoling— so very different from the way in which he had spoken to her. Her hands moving automatically about their task, she prepared a tray for Alasdair. As she placed it before him, she tried to be as cheerful as possible, but the old man's blue eyes, so bright and perceptive, were upon her face. 'You're upset, lassie, I can see that,' he told her. 'No doubt that grandson of mine has been letting you feel the sharp edge of his tongue?' Elizabeth shook her head, but she could not prevent the tears springing to her eyes. 'There, there, pay no heed to him.' Alasdair patted her arm commiseratingly. 'Whatever is the matter with him, he won't keep it in his mind for long, for Kerr's not one to hold on to a grievance. The thing for you to do is to go off for a long walk through the heather, and by the time you come back it will all have blown over.' Elizabeth looked at him doubtfully. Suddenly she realised that she had been indoors a great deal in recent weeks. It would be wonderful to go for a long walk, to blow away the cobwebs and to feel the wind on her face. 'Now just you do as I say,' Alasdair continued. 'It's the best remedy in the world for a troubled mind. All one's worries melt away when one gets up into the hills amongst the heather.' 'If you're sure you'll be all right,' she began doubtfully.

'Now don't worry about me,' he returned impatiently. 'Off you go, and don't come back until you've walked away all your worries and left them behind you.' So when she had tidied the kitchen and had settled Alasdair comfortably in the sitting-room, Elizabeth put on a light coat and a gay red and yellow checked tam-o'-shanter and set off, turning up into the hills that lay behind the house. Very quickly the path grew steep as she climbed the brae or hillside after which the house was named. She had not gone far when there was a scurry of paws and she found that Gunna had followed her. 'Go home, Gunna,' she ordered. Possibly Kerr would need the dog during the day and were he to discover that it had been with her, walking on the hills, it would only give him another excuse for exercising his sharp tongue at her expense. But Gunna had no intention of complying. He had become very attached to her because, in spite of Kerr's instructions that the dog was not to be fed between meals, she occasionally slipped him an oatcake, of which he was very fond. Now the dog retreated, then stole forward again and slunk along by her side. With a sigh she realised that he was not going to obey her and on the whole she was glad of his company. 'Oh, very well, Gunna, if you insist,' Elizabeth told him resignedly, and the little dog, taking this for full approval, boldly began to walk ahead, his plumy tail swaying. They walked on, climbing upwards in silent companionship, and somehow it was as if the animal sensed her mood of discouragement and sympathised.

Up and up she climbed until at last she noticed that the ground had become more stony. Then her eye was caught by a rough lump of stone with a yellow-green gleam under the filmed surface. Could this be a cairngorm? she wondered. She picked it up and put it in her pocket while Gunna circled and pranced about her. Higher and higher she climbed, her eyes now on the ground watching for the rough pieces of the semi-precious stones that abounded. She saw another with a glorious violet shade hidden in its depth; possibly an amethyst, she was thinking. If she were lucky she might come across jasper and rose quartz and chalcedony, and rock crystal, she was thinking excitedly. She was reaching out for a piece in which she thought she detected a milky yellow gleam when her foot slipped and she fell to the ground. It was as she sat up rubbing her elbow that she realised that the ground was now no more than rough scree and that, on looking down, she could see a scarf of white mist hanging between her and the foot of the hill. On the spot in which she sat there was bright sunshine, but below her the mist had blotted out Brae House and a dark and ominous shadow hovered over the loch. As she watched she became aware that the belt of mist was rising rapidly. Soon the higher part of the hill would be enveloped. She must try to get down to lower ground before she was trapped. Slipping on the treacherous foothold of the scree, she hurried downwards, aware of the weight of stones in the pockets of her coat. It was clear that she had lost all count of time, she had been so absorbed, and as she glanced at her watch she gave a gasp of dismay. She had been away from Brae House far longer than she had intended. Hurry as she might, she would not be able to get back in time to give Alasdair his lunch at the usual hour.

Impeded by the weight of the stones, she reluctantly scattered them on the ground and then hurried on. It was with relief that she found herself once more amongst the heather and bracken. But at the same time she was conscious that a cloud seemed to have come between her and the sun and in a matter of moments she found herself standing uncertainly, as she was enveloped in mist. She took a few tentative steps, then stopped, afraid of making a false move and tumbling down the hillside. Vividly there came into her mind the warnings given to inexperienced hill climbers— to remain in the same spot until found, rather than to walk on blindly. She crouched down amongst the heather and bracken, and Gunna came and put his head on her knee and looked up into her eyes. Elizabeth put her arm about his neck, glad of his companionship and of the feeling of another living thing close to her on the silent hillside. But the weather, instead of improving, grew worse. A fine misty rain began to fall and soon her light summer coat was soaked. Gunna grew restless, he darted away from her side and then drew near, as though inviting her to follow him. But she was afraid to do so, knowing that in places where the light-footed animal could move with ease, it would be impossible for her to follow. It was then that the idea of sending Gunna back to Brae House struck her. She folded her handkerchief around his collar, tied it in a secure knot and called, 'Home, Gunna!' At first it seemed as if he was not going to obey and Elizabeth found herself wishing she knew some of the whistles by which Kerr was able to direct his dog. But eventually, after darting back a few times, Gunna scampered off and was lost to sight in the mist.

It was when she was left alone that Elizabeth found herself growing afraid. There was a rustle in a big clump of bracken near her, breaking the silence which now seemed to envelop her, and she found herself giving a startled scream. Instantly the noise died away. But Elizabeth, her eyes turned in petrified attention to the spot, found a host of disturbing ideas crowding through her mind. Alasdair had told her of how, with the increase of tree-planting in the Highlands, wildcats had become very numerous. He himself had been attacked by one when he was a young man. 'They come at you without any provocation,' he had told her. Although they looked like large tabby cats they were ferocious and no one had ever been known to tame one. There came another slighter rustle and Elizabeth sat, her breath held, staring in the direction of the sound. Then, to her relief, a bird burst out of the undergrowth and flew away with a startled cry. Trembling with relief, Elizabeth huddled on the hillside, aware that her once gay tam-o'-shanter was now soaked and that her hair was hanging about her face in long dripping strands. The rain ceased, only to be followed by a greater torment. Clouds of midges hovered about her, their sharp bites stinging her cheeks and neck. It was when she was telling herself that this must be one of those days when Kerr would not come home for lunch that a dark shape streaked towards her and Gunna was once more by her side, his pink tongue flopping. Then she heard footsteps and suddenly Kerr loomed up before her. For a long moment they stared at each other. What sort of humour would he be in? she wondered as slowly she began to get to her

feet. He would be sure to be angry at having to come to her rescue. She was very conscious of her rain-soaked coat and shoes, of her hair hanging limply under the once pretty tam-o'-shanter. He put out his hand to help her to her feet. 'So here you are,' he remarked, as a little unsteadily she stood upright at last. 'And how did you manage to get yourself into this pickle?' But there was no anger in his voice and lamely she began, 'I'm— I'm afraid I stayed out much longer than I intended. You see—' she paused. How was she to tell him that she hadn't noticed the mist rising because she had been absorbed in searching for pretty pieces of stone on the hillside? 'Yes ? Out with it! Confess the worst,' he admonished. 'Well, I knew that sometimes pieces of semiprecious stone are found here on the hillside,' she told him, 'and—' 'And you were so busy prospecting amongst the Scottish hills that you nearly became a victim of our climate. You're just about the wettest girl I've ever seen! And that includes girls who fall overboard from cabin cruisers, and even from the Birlinn. Come on, let me help you back to civilisation.' Gladly she accepted his proffered help, feeling too stiff and miserable to manage on her own. 'So you like the pretty stones of Scotland,' he remarked as, his arm about her waist, they slowly moved forward guided by Gunna, who constantly darted ahead and returned to them. 'And to think that I always had the impression that girls preferred diamonds!' 'I'm not really very keen on diamonds,' she told him. 'I love the colours in amethysts and rose quartz. I was hoping to make a little

collection of the semiprecious stones before—before—' Before I go home again, she was thinking. If he noticed her hesitation, he ignored it. 'And what happened to your pretty stones ?' 'They were weighing down my pockets,' she confessed. 'I had to throw them away.' 'A pity! If you'd kept them, you could have got them polished in Kirkloch. But tell me, what possessed you to climb so high on your own ? You could easily have been in very serious trouble. It's really dangerous to walk in these mountains where the mist can come down in a jiffy. You should at least have told me what you had in mind.' But at this Elizabeth rebelled. 'Why should I ?' she demanded. 'When you were so horrible to me this morning.' 'Was I ?' he asked indifferently. 'Yes, you were,' she told him. 'But then I suppose you don't even know how disagreeable you can be at times. You wouldn't speak to Linnet like that. But then, of course, I'm not Linnet. I'm only your housekeeper.' 'Not any more,' he told her. 'Since you agreed to stay on you've proved a friend. And that's how I regard you now, as something very much more than a housekeeper.' His tone was warm, appreciative, and Elizabeth felt her anger against him melt away.

'See, the mist is clearing,' he remarked, for now as they reached the lower slopes of the hill it was as though a milky veil were tearing apart and being drawn away by the breezes. When they stopped to rest for a little, the sun came out once more and they stood looking down on the farm nestling by the side of the loch, and on the water, the Birlinn, dancing lightly at anchor. 'It's beautiful, isn't it?' he asked softly. Yes, it was beautiful, she was thinking. And it was home, and even as the thought crossed her mind she realised how much this spot had come to mean to her. 'We'd better hurry, Alasdair will be wondering what has become of us,' she said abruptly, breaking the spell. Without another word he assisted her onwards and very shortly they were once more within the warmth and shelter of the kitchen at Brae House. As Elizabeth sank into the wooden chair beside the stove, suddenly she felt icily chilled and immeasurably tired. As Kerr piled fuel into the stove and it began to blaze up, she pulled off her tam-o'-shanter and let it drop to the floor by the side of her chair. It was irredeemably ruined, she was thinking dully. Not that it mattered! He brought her something to drink in a small glass and Elizabeth, as she sipped it gratefully, realised that this was a drink she had never tasted before. 'What is it?' she asked curiously. 'That's Atholl Brose,' he told her. 'Made of whisky, honey and eggs. Any malady that can't be cured by a little of that magic elixir is past remedy.'

'It's certainly very warming,' she had to agree as within minutes the shivering that had gripped her passed away. But as she spoke, she sneezed and reached in her pocket for her handkerchief. 'Here it is.' He drew her handkerchief from his pocket. She was appalled to see how grubby it looked, but reached out her hand for it. Gently he pushed her hand aside. 'No, I'm keeping this one. Here, you'd better blow your nose in this.' As he spoke he passed her a clean, white handkerchief of his own. Elizabeth watched as he slipped her handkerchief into his pocket. So he was going to keep it. She could not help a softening smile crossing her face. But what a pity it was just a plain and not very attractive handkerchief. Not the sort of dainty, lace-edged handkerchief that Linnet could afford. 'You're smiling?' he queried. 'Yes, I was just wishing that the handkerchief was something more worth keeping,' she told him, her voice soft and intimate. 'But why? Did you think I was going to wear it next to my heart? No, I just wanted it as a memento of the occasion. Something we can both laugh about later when you've got over the ordeal.' 'Oh, you are horrid!' she exclaimed, jumping to her feet, her face flaming with mortification. 'You're the most insufferable, rude, disagreeable—'

'Come on, Liza, off you go and have a nice hot bath and get into bed for a few hours. You'll feel the better for it. Meanwhile I'll rustle up a few sandwiches for Alasdair before I go out again.' She turned and almost ran from the kitchen, and as she fled upstairs heard his roar of laughter and the crash as he slapped down the kettle on the stove.

CHAPTER NINE IT was drawing near to Alasdair's birthday. Accidentally he had let it slip one day that it was only a few weeks ahead and Elizabeth, determined to make it as pleasant and cheerful as possible, had decided that instead of ordering a cake from one of the shops in Kirkloch, she would bake one herself. So one morning, immediately after breakfast, she set to and was just popping it into the oven when the phone rang. Hurriedly she washed her floury hands and hurried out into the hall. She was not too surprised when she discovered the call was from Linnet. 'I suppose you want to speak to Kerr,' she began, 'I'm afraid he's out and I don't know when—' But Linnet interrupted. 'No, it's you I want to speak to,' and to Elizabeth's amazement her voice was unmistakably conciliatory. As Elizabeth, silenced by surprise, said nothing, Linnet went on, 'I'm sure you're wondering why I'm calling you, and frankly I don't blame you after some of the perfectly horrid things I've said, but when I look back on it I realise I was dreadfully shocked and really didn't know what I was saying.' She stopped on an interrogatory note, but Elizabeth, wary of the other girl, said cautiously, 'But what is it, Linnet? What do you want?' 'Oh, I don't blame you for feeling a bit miffed,' laughed Linnet lightly, 'but I've been wondering if you could bring yourself to forgive and forget. Won't you come and have tea with me this afternoon, here at the Rob Roy, and we could have a nice gossip. Do please come, then I'll know you're really letting bygones be bygones.'

'Well, I don't know—' Elizabeth began doubtfully. She was not keen on the idea of having tea with Linnet and decided to make the baking of the cake a good excuse. 'I'd simply love to,' she said, with something of Linnet's own insincerity, 'but I've just put something in the oven and that's going to take some time.' 'Cooking! Aren't you the good little housewife? Well, as soon as you're finished—' 'But there's ages between the buses,' Elizabeth protested. But Linnet's trilling laughter interrupted her. 'Now don't let the buses put you off. I'll send a car for you, so just as soon as your cooking is ready, come on over to Kirkloch and let's make up, shall we?' Elizabeth hesitated. Linnet seemed to have thought of everything. She could hardly persist in her refusal without sounding downright rude. On the other hand, she had planned to spend the rest of the day on domestic chores and this invitation meant that she would have to prepare for the visit. She could hardly appear at the Rob Roy looking anything but neat and well groomed. 'Well, make up your mind,' came Linnet's voice. The words were spoken lightly, but behind them was a hint of Linnet's usual imperious manner. 'Don't keep me on tenterhooks.' 'Thanks, I'll be ready in time,' Elizabeth replied quickly. But as finally she put the receiver down she was thinking that while in the early days she would have welcomed such a gesture, now somehow Linnet's olive branch didn't seem to matter any more. And how like Linnet to proffer it in this way ! Instead of

apologising, like any other mortal, she was in fact summoning Elizabeth to come to her ! Elizabeth was smiling wryly as she returned to the kitchen and began to tidy away the articles she had used while cooking. Yet she had to admit to herself that she felt relief and satisfaction that Linnet had decided to take back the dreadful accusations she had made. Elizabeth also began to feel a growing curiosity as to what Linnet really wanted to see her about, for she had no illusions that Linnet had sent for her to indulge in idle gossip. No, if Linnet desired her presence, it was because of something that was of importance to herself. Kerr had told her that he would not be in to lunch, and when she had given Alasdair his meal and had made a light snack for herself, Elizabeth went upstairs to dress. She took from her wardrobe a dress which she had not yet worn, of nasturtium red fine wool. She made up carefully, piled her hair high and fastened it with a burnished copper clasp. When she had popped in to see that all was well with Alasdair and had taken the cake out of the oven and put it on a wire tray to cool she returned to her room to slip on a white lightweight coat with matching nasturtium- red buttons and to collect her white gloves and handbag. To her relief she was just ready when the car arrived and soon she was speeding towards the Rob Roy. May was in the reception desk when she arrived and voiced her approval in her usual forthright way. 'I do like that outfit,' she told her. 'But then you always do dress beautifully.' But it was not Elizabeth's clothes she was interested in. 'I must say you're a dark horse!' she continued. 'To think of you being housekeeper to the fascinating Kerr Carmichael! What's it like

actually to live under the same roof with him, to see him every day ? But I must say that for me it would present problems—I'd never be able to keep calm and self-possessed in such circumstances. More likely I'd throw myself at his head and make an utter fool of myself. But you're a cool one ! I suppose you hardly turn a hair !' Elizabeth laughed lightly. 'After all, it's just a housekeeping job like any other,' she said evasively. 'Cooking and cleaning and all the other jobs! And actually Kerr can be a difficult person to housekeep for. He can be rather—' May was nodding understandingly. 'Somewhat demanding at times, I suppose. Oh, he's fascinating, I grant you, but not an easy person by any means. Still, one crowded hour of glorious life—if you know what I mean! A few minutes in his company is worth hours with any other man, if you ask me.' Elizabeth did not know how to reply to this, so perfectly did it accord with her own notions of Kerr and after a moment May went on, with a giggle, 'What intrigues me is the situation between you and Linnet. It's a wonder you're still in one piece, considering how she feels about him! It's not surprising you're at daggers drawn— Linnet's not the girl to suffer another woman to be so close to the man she wants.' She stood on tiptoe and peered into the lounge. 'I don't see her around this afternoon, but you'd better keep your eyes peeled. From all I can gather, Linnet has it in for you, and she's not the girl to shrink from making a scene when she's annoyed.' 'We're not really on such bad terms,' Elizabeth was glad to be able to tell her. 'Actually I'm here to have tea with her this afternoon.' 'What?' exclaimed May.

'Yes, she rang me and invited me,' Elizabeth told her. 'I shouldn't have been able to come if she hadn't sent a car for me.' May's eyes were opening wider every moment. 'She was so determined to see you that she actually sent a car for you! Well, all I can say is that this is a great change for Linnet. You see—' Here May hesitated and was obviously pondering the wisdom of continuing. 'I suppose I shouldn't tell you this,' she went on at last, 'but I feel I ought to warn you.' And Elizabeth's heart sank as May went on, 'You see, she came in here dripping wet after one of her outings on the Birlinn. Kerr's story was that the yacht heeled and she was pitched overboard, but would you believe it, Linnet actually said that you were on board too and that in some way you were to blame—you knocked against her or something. I'm just telling you this to warn you to be on the lookout for her. She doesn't care what she says when she's in a rage.' 'I think she regrets making such a wild statement,' Elizabeth said, as calmly as she could. 'She knows now that her tongue ran away with her. Actually she told me on the phone that she wanted to apologise.' May was still shaking her head in bewilderment over this, as Linnet hurried forward her arms outstretched in a pretty gesture of welcome. 'Well, this is nice! I was so afraid you wouldn't be able to come after all!' Linnet was dressed in a delicate shade of wild-rose pink, and as Elizabeth saw how the colour seemed to accentuate how dainty and doll-like her figure was, instantly she was aware that her own neat and careful get-up shrank into insignificance beside this fairylike creature with the wide blue eyes and soft- blonde curls. She

felt too tall, her bones too strong, as the glow of self-confidence May's compliments had given her suddenly evaporated. 'I've ordered tea in my room,' Linnet was saying. 'I thought it would be cosier and we'll have a better chance of having a heartto-heart chat.' As they moved across the foyer towards the lifts, Elizabeth was very conscious of May's wondering regard. Clearly she found it hard to believe that they could be on such good terms. As they entered Linnet's room, Elizabeth was struck by its air of luxury in comparison to the small, spartan rooms at Brae House. But she had no time to study her surroundings, because Linnet led her straight towards the balcony overlooking the loch. A waiter was departing, having deposited a laden tea- tray. As Linnet poured, she said, 'I thought this would be better than the lounge—we can really let our hair down without any of those old cats overhearing.' Her manner was affable, but Elizabeth knew her well enough by now to be wary of the look in those eyes which were just a bit too widely open to be entirely trustworthy. 'Sugar?' Linnet was enquiring. Elizabeth shook her head and Linnet went on quickly, 'And now immediately, before my courage fails me, I want to say how dreadfully sorry I am about the horrid things I said to you—you know, about that trip on the Birlinn. I think the reason was—' Here Linnet paused to pass a cup and saucer to Elizabeth and Elizabeth waited for her to go on, fairly sure that she was going to say that shock had made her speak as she had done. Instead, to

Elizabeth's surprise, she continued with an air of great frankness, 'Looking back, I see that what was the matter with me was jealousy.' 'Jealousy?' Elizabeth repeated in amazement. Unconsciously her eyes had gone to the great bronze- framed mirror that lined one of the walls in Linnet's room, where their reflections were clearly to be seen. Linnet followed her eyes and made no pretence of misunderstanding. 'Look, Elizabeth, neither of us are fools,' she said, laying down her cup with a little crash. 'And I'm going to lay my cards on the table. Let me say, first of all, that I don't underestimate you. Oh, I admit I did so at first, thinking—well—' A slight wave of the hand towards the big mirror made plainer than words the direction her thoughts were taking. 'But closer acquaintance has cured me of the idea that the assets are all on my side. For one thing, you're a girl who has plenty of personality, who knows how to dress and who obviously knows what she wants out of life,' Here she stopped and looked at Elizabeth very directly as she said in a low distinct tone, 'The trouble is that we both want exactly the same thing out of life, and in this particular case, only one of us can win.' 'But—' Elizabeth began. Surely she wasn't hearing Linnet correctly? she was thinking. 'Come, Elizabeth, we're both adults,' Linnet said sharply. 'Where Kerr is concerned both of us have assets, and, as I said, I don't underestimate you. Apart from everything else, you're under the same roof with him; you're in a position to influence him. It's just

possible you might win—but is that what you really want for Kerr?' 'I don't understand you,' Elizabeth told her sharply. She had known that this interview with Linnet would be difficult, but she had not dreamed that it would take these lines. 'You love Kerr and you want the best for him, don't you ?' Linnet was asking. 'But is being a farmer —a farmer of a comparatively small place—just what you want for him?' So it was out at last! Elizabeth was thinking, misery overwhelming her. Linnet's next words came as no surprise to her. 'Were Kerr to marry me, he could have what he really wants—and that's that the Carmichaels should regain the position in the country that they once held.' 'What are you asking me to do?' Elizabeth asked through dry lips. 'I'm asking you, if you love him, and I'm convinced that in your own way you do, to step out of the picture. You've agreed to stay on until Alasdair's recovered. His hand is nearly healed, isn't that so? From Kerr's point of view there's nothing to prevent you leaving, so when you step out of the picture he'll take it as the most natural thing in the world and simply look for another housekeeper,' Linnet was saying inexorably. Was Linnet right? Elizabeth was thinking miserably. Would Kerr regard her departure as nothing more than a passing inconvenience until he found someone to replace her? 'Then it will be quite simple for you to leave shortly! Kerr need never suspect how you feel about him. He need not know we've

ever had this little talk. My money will enable him to buy adjoining land, to build up the Carmichael place into something of what it was before. Kerr would have freedom and leisure to sail again, to travel abroad, to have something of the life he dreams about.' How clever Linnet was, Elizabeth was thinking. She was using her love for Kerr against herself, asking her to give him up because she loved him and wanted the best for him. There was a long silence and Elizabeth could hear the silvery chiming of the French clock on a small mirror-topped table at the far side of Linnet's room. What on earth was she to say to this eager girl, watching her so avidly with huge flower-like blue eyes. Afterwards Elizabeth was to wonder what her answer might have been had not Linnet, misunderstanding the silence, gone on to clinch the deal with what she must have thought would be an overwhelming argument. 'Of course I'm not asking you to step out for nothing,' she went on rapidly, leaning forward as though to push her advantage. 'You'd be a fool to do so, wouldn't you? And I'd be a fool to expect it,' she added, with one of her short trills of laughter. 'Let's put it on a businesslike basis. I'm in a position to compensate you, and—' 'Compensate me?' Elizabeth queried. 'Don't let's pretend,' Linnet returned contemptuously. 'You're not well off; it's clear that you're not going to give up the chance of marriage to Kerr for nothing. But I can arrange for you to get an extremely good job with some of my father's friends, and—' But Linnet was too self-absorbed to see that with this offer of hers Elizabeth's attitude had changed completely. Had Linnet made the request on the simple grounds of Kerr's welfare, Elizabeth would

have been strongly tempted to agree. But did Linnet really imagine that she could be persuaded by this bait so crudely offered ? Unaware of how badly she had bungled, Linnet, misunderstanding Elizabeth's silence, added, 'Oh, all right, but you are greedy! Let's say, and a lump sum down as well. How about that?' Elizabeth rose to her feet, and now for once she was glad, of that height of hers which made her tower over Linnet. 'I don't think you understand me very well, Linnet. I love Kerr, and if I were to discover he cared for me nothing on earth would make me give him up, so don't waste your time thinking up schemes that you imagine will appeal to my cupidity. And another thing, Linnet,' she added fiercely, 'don't think I won't fight for him, because I'm not quite as helpless as you think.' And leaving Linnet sitting there by her elaborate tea-table, her mouth open in astonishment and chagrin, she turned and almost ran across the bedroom and out into the corridor. Down the stairs, she hurried across the foyer and into the street, aware that May, at the reception desk, was staring in round-eyed astonishment after her. But she couldn't trust herself to speak to May at that moment. Tears of rage and mortification must have choked her. But in the taxi back to Brae House, she had plenty of time to cool down. And now, with stark compulsion, came the arguments that Linnet had put forward, for Linnet had been only too right in shrewdly assessing the depths of her love for Kerr. Was Linnet right in suggesting that without the assistance of her money Kerr was destined to a life of drudgery on a small farm, a life in which all the dreams he had of sailing in the Birlinn about the magical places of the world would be gone for ever?

On the other hand, and this was the most depressing realisation of all, it was Linnet herself who presumed that Elizabeth's proximity to Kerr might prove dangerous. In a way it was flattering that the girl considered her such a dangerous rival. But did Kerr himself consider her as anything more than an extremely competent housekeeper? In the days that followed Elizabeth, as she went about her household tasks, turned the problem over and over in her mind without coming any nearer a solution. Then, suddenly it seemed, it was a day or two before Alasdair's birthday and Elizabeth slipped off on the afternoon bus and went into Kirkloch to buy him a present. Undecidedly she browsed about the shops. It was difficult to know what Alasdair would like, but she guessed that it would probably be something strictly practical. There was a great selection of Fair Isle cardigans and pullovers, hand-knitted in intricate and exquisite patterns; one lovelier than another. She was attracted too by a pair of soft pampooties in pale blue sheepskin with snowy linings of soft brushed lamb's wool. Then again she was lured to a counter stocked with hand-woven ties in every conceivable tartan and check. As she walked along the High Street she stopped by the window of a jeweller's shop, her eye fixed on a tie-pin, set with cairngorm stones. It was a gift she would have taken pleasure in purchasing, but on the instant she knew that it would not find favour with Alasdair. Nearby was a display of pendants that bore an accompanying card stating that they had been made from stones found in the mountains around Kirkloch.

And now she regretted more than ever the stones she had been forced to throw away in her descent from the hillside, because it was hard to believe that these glowing jewels, amethyst-coloured, rose and amber yellow, had once been dull and formless pebbles. 'These are the sort of treasures we have lying about in Scotland waiting to be picked up,' a voice said close to her ear. With a little start she turned to find it was Kerr. 'I've been admiring them: they're such exquisite colours.' She pointed to a polished chunk of rose quartz that hung from a simple chain. It was a glorious, glowing red, somewhat like coral in colour, but warm and translucent. 'So that's what you've picked out,' he remarked. 'The jewel you prefer to diamonds—but then you're not an ordinary sort of girl, are you?' She laughed uncertainly. 'Actually I haven't been shopping for anything for myself,' she admitted. 'I've been browsing about trying to find something your grandfather might like for his birthday. I thought at first he might be pleased by the tiepin, but then I realised that he would never wear it.' She pointed to the pin set with stones that were just slightly lighter in colour than topaz. 'Grandfather's birthday!' he exclaimed. 'I'd quite forgotten. I'm glad you reminded me. I may as well get something for him today. And speaking of the pin, I agree with you. Were you to present it to him, he'd thank you courteously, then place it carefully in a box at the back of one of his drawers and forget all about it.' Elizabeth laughed ruefully. 'Yes, I'm afraid it's not very practical as far as your grandfather is concerned.'

'Mine is practical enough,' he told her. 'Alasdair always gets slippers for his birthday.' 'Always ?' 'Yes. I'm afraid I'm not very imaginative where presents are concerned. They know his size in one of the shops here and it will save me racking my brains to think of something fresh. Anyway, Alasdair probably wouldn't like it if I broke an old tradition.' 'But hasn't it occurred to you that he might just like something different for a change?' Kerr looked at her, his expression slightly puzzled. 'No, why should he? He always seems perfectly pleased when I give them to him. And what's more, he uses them, which he certainly wouldn't do were I to get him something outlandish.' 'It doesn't have to be outlandish,' Elizabeth protested. 'For instance, I've seen some lovely Fair Isle jerseys. I'm sure he'd love one. The colours are beautiful, just the sort of tones he'd love, heathery blues and mauves; the colours of the hills around Kirkloch.' He looked at her doubtfully. 'It will be rather an innovation, but if you think so—' 'I do think so,' she said firmly. 'Oh well, as I rather put you off the tiepin, it's only fair you should put me off the slippers. But, before we go, what about that lump of rose quartz you had your eye on?' 'Oh no !' She drew back from the window. 'You mustn't think of giving me a present!'

He raised his eyebrows. 'And why not, may I ask?' 'Well, for one thing—well, it wouldn't be—suitable.' 'To hear you talk, one would think I was planning to buy you the Crown Jewels! These baubles aren't particularly expensive, you know.' She bit her lip. Was he deliberately pretending to misunderstand? It was hard to tell with Kerr. She decided to take the bull by the horns and state the issue plainly. 'You know perfectly well why I can't take a present from you. I'm working at Brae House as your housekeeper. I simply don't want to be under a compliment to you.' 'I see. So you dislike me so much you won't accept even a small gift ?' 'I don't dislike you—' she began. 'Well, that's good news, because I must admit that sometimes you give a very good imitation of heartily loathing me.' 'Well—' 'Well what?' 'Of course I don't loathe you, but you can be very annoying at times. I suppose it's because you're accustomed to getting your own way. You're inclined to be dictatorial, you know.' At this piece of information, he threw back his head and laughed so loudly that several passers-by stopped on the narrow pavement to stare and smile uncertainly at his infectious laughter. 'Really, you do make me out rather an ogre! Surely I'm not as bad as that all the time?'

'No, not all the time,' she conceded grudgingly. 'You can behave quite differently to—' She stopped, dismayed, as she realised how her tongue was running away with her. 'Go on,' he commanded, and now his blue eyes were hard and assessing. 'Oh, it doesn't matter,' she muttered. 'But I insist. I'd be interested to know who has this magical effect on me so that I can be turned from a dictatorial monster to a parfait gentle knight.' Elizabeth felt her heart sink. Why on earth had she allowed herself to rattle on? But she now knew enough about Kerr to know that he would not let her go until she had answered his question. 'I—I mean Linnet,' she stammered. 'Indeed!' The blue eyes were like chips of ice. 'Suppose you leave Linnet out of this! After all, that part of my life is none of your affair.' His voice had been so cold and dismissing that she was stung to furious defence. 'Yes, Linnet Peters is a part of your life that I, as your housekeeper, am taking a liberty in even mentioning, isn't that it? Well, now you know why I won't accept a present from you, no matter what its value.' As she spoke she turned away, but he caught at her arm. 'Just a minute.'

But with the strength of fury she wrenched free of his grasp and walked swiftly away. Tears of rage were stinging her eyes as she hastened along the High Street. She would purchase her present for Alasdair as quickly as possible and hurry back to Brae House. Re-established in her kitchen and immersed in her usual routine, she would probably regain her equilibrium. But at that moment she felt as if she were neither fish, nor flesh, nor good red herring. But at least she would continue as housekeeper until Alasdair was fully recovered. Her mind only half on her errand, she was passing a shop window displaying knitwear and articles of Highland craft, when she stopped; she had seen something that she knew instinctively would appeal to Alasdair's artistic nature. It was a large paperweight formed of a lump of green Iona marble, only the top was polished to a smooth glassy translucent surface. Its very irregularity of shape, Elizabeth knew, would please Alasdair's keen eye for form. It was very reasonably priced, she discovered when she went into the shop and, feeling somewhat soothed by her successful foray, she tucked her neatly boxed package into her handbag. As she made her way to the door she passed near the knitwear counter and as she did so she saw Kerr come in and head directly towards it. He caught sight of her immediately and, striding towards her, grasped her purposefully by the arm and marched her towards the knitwear counter. When he reached it, he surveyed the display coolly. 'Now you're going to help me select something for Grandfather,' he told her evenly.

As unobtrusively as possible, Elizabeth tried to pull away, but his clutch on her arm was inexorable. 'You don't want to make a scene, do you?' he inquired blandly. 'Somehow I've the impression you're the kind of girl who would shrink from creating a fracas in public, and that's what will certainly happen if you try to dodge through the door. Anyway, I thought you were fond of Grandfather.' 'Yes, of course I am.' 'Then what about forgetting your grievances and simply consider that by helping me out you'll be contributing to his happiness on his birthday?' Elizabeth regarded him suspiciously. Was this simply a ploy to win her acquiescence? But his blue eyes hinted an appeal that she had not seen in them before and, a little grudgingly, she helped him to select a sweater in exquisitely misty colours of green, russet and mauve. When his purchase had been paid for and parcelled, they walked in silence to the door and Elizabeth was considering how best to make a dignified departure, when Kerr said cheerfully, 'And now I think we've earned ourselves a refreshing pot of tea.' He seemed maddeningly confident of her acquiescence in his plan and for a moment she felt a resurgence of antagonism. But as she opened her mouth to give a tart refusal, he held up his hand in mock dismay. 'I can see by the expression in those big eyes of yours that I'm going to get a haughty and dignified crushing.'

In spite of herself, Elizabeth could not restrain a giggle. 'Somehow I don't see myself in that role.' 'Well, no,' he agreed with unflattering concurrence, 'but then who wants to have tea at the Rob Roy with Cleopatra or Helen of Troy?' Then, before she could make any further demur, he tucked her arm into his and marched her towards the hotel. When they arrived, tea was being served in the lounge. And, in spite of herself, Elizabeth could not restrain the little thrill of pleasure she felt as after a few words with May Mackenzie at the reception desk they moved on and May, behind Kerr's back, mimed her good-natured jealousy at Elizabeth's good fortune in being with such an attractive companion. When they were seated, Elizabeth looked around with interest. There was no sign of Linnet and all the faces there were new to her. The elderly, rather sedate crowd who enjoyed a quiet Easter holiday had already given way to a younger and more lively generation. How quickly the place had changed in atmosphere since she had stayed there, she was thinking. With a little halfsmile she remembered how bored she had been right until the end of her stay when Kerr had tripped over her foot and a completely new life had begun for her. 'Well, what are you smiling at, Liza?' he inquired. 'You've a faint Mona Lisa curve to the corner of your mouth that I find intriguing.' 'I was thinking of the first day we met,' she admitted. 'I was sitting over there alone at that table where the woman in the red hat is now, and—'

'And you deliberately and brazenly stuck out your foot and tripped me up,' he finished. 'Not deliberately,' she corrected demurely. 'No ? Well, I've only your word for that. But all the same, deliberate or not, do you regret that we met that day?' She hesitated. It would be untrue to say that she regretted it, but were she to admit how happy she was in her present occupation, she might also inadvertently reveal how deeply she cared for him, and it would be dangerous to give a man like Kerr such knowledge. She would then be completely and irrevocably in his power. Better by far that he should think her indifferent. She was saved from improvisation, however, by the arrival of a waiter. When the order was given and he . had departed, Elizabeth was relieved to find that Kerr was not going to pursue the matter. In an effort to cover up her embarrassment she opened her bag and took out her purchase. As she did so, it slipped from her fingers and fell to the carpet with a dull thud. Kerr reached out his hand and retrieved it, making a slight grimace as he felt its weight. 'Now what can this be? You haven't been robbing a bank of gold bullion?' Elizabeth laughed. 'It's a present for your grandfather : it's a paperweight of Iona marble. Somehow I felt it was the sort of thing he would like.' 'Maybe,' Kerr grunted. 'Frankly, it's not the kind of gift I'd appreciate myself, but then I'm not the artistic type. Grandfather's the one in our family with the eye for beauty.'

'I think you underestimate yourself, as far as that goes,' she told him quietly. 'You do? And would you mind explaining to me, Liza, how you came to that remarkable conclusion?' he asked with mock solemnity. 'Well, for one thing—' But now that she was on the point of mentioning Linnet's name, Elizabeth hesitated. It would be dreadful if her words brought about a resumption of hostilities. But something stronger than herself impelled her to blurt out, 'Well, take Linnet, for instance.' She saw his eyes narrow slightly. 'Well, what about Linnet?' With the tip of her spoon, Elizabeth carefully outlined the floral design in the tablecloth, but reaching over Kerr unclasped her fingers, removed the spoon and firmly replaced it on its saucer. 'All right, let's have it! It's not like you to be reticent where Linnet's concerned,' he told her drily. Elizabeth glanced up and met his eye. 'Oh, it's simply that Linnet's beautiful,' she said lightly. 'And it's fairly obvious that you admire her. What I intended to say is that you're not as unappreciative of loveliness as you'd have me think.' 'I see.' She regarded him uncertainly. Had she transgressed that line beyond which one dare not go without transforming him into an icy stranger?

But to her relief she found that in his expression there was a slight puzzlement. 'Hasn't it dawned on you yet that I like a woman to be a creature of flesh and blood, someone with human strengths and human weaknesses ? I'm not a man who could care deeply for a woman of icy perfection, no matter how beautiful. No doubt there are some men who could fall for a woman of empty beauty, but I'm not one of them.' Elizabeth listened intently, trying to analyse his words. What exactly did he mean? she wondered. Linnet had showed herself only too obviously to be anything but perfect. She had a fundamental earthiness that was unmistakable. Elizabeth felt her spirits fall to zero as she realised how anxiously she had been reviewing his words. Had she been looking for a gleam of hope that they referred to herself? Better to face up to the truth, she thought dismally. She had asked a question that should never have been asked and had received what her common sense told her was a clear and unequivocal answer . She tried to force a smile as she saw him eye her intently. 'You're looking so very solemn, Liza. This is no time for serious discussion. Here comes our waiter. What you need is a cup of strong tea and a wedge of petticoat-tail shortbread, followed by chocolate gateau.' 'A little of that diet and I'll grow so fat that even you will notice.' Elizabeth forced a laugh. "You'll hardly have sufficient time to grow fat,' he told her. 'Grandfather will be as good as new soon and then I suppose you'll be shaking the dust of Kirkloch from your shoes and heading back to London?'

Did she detect a tentative note in his voice? she wondered, her heart quickening. Was he actually leaving the decision to her? Or was he simply making a statement of facts? But now the waiter had arrived at their table and as she poured tea Elizabeth searched her mind for an answer, her former furious resolve to leave Brae House the moment Alasdair was recovered quite evaporated from her mind. How dearly she would love to stay on, she was thinking. Yet how impossible it would be to hint to him that wherever they shared a roof would be home to her and that anywhere else on earth would be an intolerable exile. Kerr reached in his pocket and took from it a small tissue-paperwrapped package which he quickly unfolded and before Elizabeth knew what he intended he had reached over and slipped the rosequartz pendant over her head. She felt the heavy stone against her neck and touched it with wondering fingers. 'So you got it after all,' she said softly. He gave a little triumphant hoot of laughter. 'Well, this is a nice change ! I was fully expecting to get the contents of the teapot about me, but I decided to pluck up courage and put it to the test. Do you really like it, Liza?' His voice held a note that made her heart race with happiness. 'Like it ? Oh, Kerr, I think it's perfectly lovely!' 'A memento of Kirkloch, perhaps! In years to come it may remind you of all our battles—and of our making-up too.' 'Oh, Kerr—' Her voice choked. 'I'll always treasure it.'

'And I'm sure that will gratify Kerr very much,' Linnet's cold voice broke in. Elizabeth glanced up to find Linnet standing by their table. As Kerr got to his feet, Linnet went on, 'That girl at the reception desk—May something-or-other—told me you were here. Otherwise, of course, I shouldn't have known.' There was an accusing note in her voice. Kerr, however, appeared completely unperturbed. 'We've been doing some shopping and decided to stop off for refreshments. Won't you join us, Linnet ?' 'I'd like to—that is, of course, if you don't think I'll be in the way,' Linnet rejoined with dangerous sweetness as she took the chair Kerr had pulled forward. 'No, of course you won't be,' he told her. 'Now tell me, what have you been up to since we last met ?' 'Oh, nothing particularly exciting!' Linnet glanced at the package containing the present for Alasdair, 'but I can see you two have been enjoying yourselves.' 'I don't consider shopping a particularly exhilarating experience,' said Kerr. 'It's usually fraught with all sorts of difficulties.' 'But this time you had Elizabeth to help you. That should have smoothed your way,' Linnet rejoined drily. Kerr glanced across at Elizabeth and smiled. 'At the beginning she wasn't exactly co-operative, but gradually she began to see the error of her ways.'

'Yes, no doubt.' Linnet drummed her almond-shaped nails on the cloth. 'Most girls respond to a sweetener.' 'Sweetener?' Kerr inquired. 'Yes, a piece of jewellery does wonders for a girl— even the most unco-operative.' She leaned forward and raised the heavy stone in her slim fingers. Involuntarily Elizabeth stiffened as she felt the pull of the chain behind her neck. It was as though Linnet's restrained rage was being transmitted through the fragile links of the chain. Elizabeth was tense with the realisation that Linnet was close to snatching the stone from about her neck with a sudden movement. But Linnet managed to restrain herself and examined the trinket with an air of interest. 'Rose quartz, I see,' she remarked at last, a faint hint of contempt in her tones. 'Very pretty, but not, shall we say, particularly valuable. Still, under the circumstances, eminently suitable.' She released the stone and Elizabeth felt it swing back against her neck with relief. 'Suitable? I don't quite get your meaning, Linnet,' Kerr inquired. Linnet fingered the ends of her perfectly coiffured hair. 'Well, under the circumstances, it wouldn't have done if it had been anything valuable. Anything like that bracelet you bought for me the day we sailed down to Helensburgh in the Birlinn! You remember that small exclusive jeweller's in Sinclair Street?' 'Yes, I remember,' he returned slowly. 'But you haven't explained yourself. Why should a rose quartz be suitable for Elizabeth?'

'But I have explained,' Linnet told him a little impatiently. 'It's one of those gifts that an employer may give—it doesn't commit one, does it? And after all, Elizabeth has been simply wonderful, staying on when Alasdair injured his arm. I mean, it must have been an awful bore for her, helping him with those eternal jigsaw puzzles of his and listening to tales of days gone by. Oh, Alasdair's a dear and I do love him, but it can't have been fun for Elizabeth. She certainly deserved some recompense.' Elizabeth could feel her cheeks flood with colour. So this was how Kerr's gift appeared to a girl like Linnet! She felt her pleasure in the glowing stone evaporate under the contemptuous words. So it was the sort of present that one might safely give to a housekeeper! Nothing that would compromise a man in the slightest! Was that how Kerr himself had thought of it when he had selected the gift? 'But you haven't told me what else you bought,' Linnet continued. 'I'm all agog to know. Second to a shopping expedition there's nothing I enjoy more than hearing about one.' 'Nothing very exciting,' Kerr informed her. 'Just gifts for Alasdair on his birthday.' 'I'm so glad you told me,' Linnet exclaimed. 'I'd have hated not to have had a present for the dear old man. What do you think he'd like, Kerr?' 'Whatever you decide on, make it something inexpensive,' he told her. 'You'll only embarrass my grandfather if you splurge and make it something extravagant.' 'Nonsense!' Linnet dismissed his admonition. 'It just shows how little you know about people, Kerr. Everyone likes expensive

presents. Why on earth shouldn't they? Are you going to hold a party for him?' 'I suppose we shall be holding some sort of little celebration,' Kerr replied doubtfully, 'but nothing very elaborate.' 'But you must have a cake,' Linnet went on with mounting enthusiasm. 'And you must let me supply that. I know just where I'll get it—there's a simply terrific place in Inverness.' 'Oh, but I've made one already,' Elizabeth put in. 'It only needs to be iced.' She was aware of Kerr's glance of surprise. 'You've made one! But you didn't tell me, Liza!' 'I didn't think you'd be interested,' she replied, smiling. 'Anyway, I'm afraid it's very small and unimpressive.' 'Well, that seems to have put paid to my little scheme,' Linnet said flatly, then with a short laugh, added, 'You really have a perfect treasure in Elizabeth, haven't you, Kerr? Apart from her other duties she finds time to make a cake for Alasdair's birthday.' There could be no mistaking the vindictiveness in Linnet's tones and Elizabeth found it hard to hold back an angry retort. But she was not going to let Linnet spoil this wonderful afternoon with Kerr by provoking her into an outright quarrel. Elizabeth flashed a glance in Kerr's direction, but his face was impassive. Perhaps, man-like, he was not even aware of the malice that lurked in Linnet's words. Kerr's reply when Linnet calmly invited herself to the celebration seemed to confirm this.

'I suppose I may consider myself invited,' she remarked archly. 'Alasdair and I get on famously. In his own grumpy way he likes me a lot.' 'Yes, of course you must come,' Kerr agreed, 'just as long as you don't present him with something horribly extravagant. I know he'd hate it—and so should I.' Linnet gave a gurgle of laughter and leaning forward touched his hand with a slim white finger. 'Now you just leave this to me, Kerr. I know what an old Spartan you are, but I intend to have my way as far as Alasdair's concerned.' 'But then don't you get your way as far as every man is concerned?' he rejoined wryly. Again Linnet gave a tinkling trill of laughter that this time held a tone of triumph. 'Yes, of course, as you say, Kerr darling, I always get my way.' Then she added, with unmistakable meaning, 'There are very few things in life, Kerr, that I've wanted badly and haven't been able to get.' Elizabeth saw the long regard Kerr gave Linnet, her face radiant and beautiful, and the look of almost unwilling admiration that he gave her. 'Yes, Linnet, I'm sure it must be difficult for most men to refuse you.' 'Well, now that you've admitted that,' Linnet said gaily, 'what about staying on? There's to be a house dance in one of the other hotels and we could go along. I'm sure Elizabeth won't mind going back to Brae House alone.' 'I'm afraid it's out of the question,' he told her.

'But why?' she pouted. 'For one thing, the last bus has gone! But then a girl as wealthy as you are would hardly know anything about bus timetables.' 'Well then, let her take your car and I'll drive you home afterwards. It will be a glorious drive back along the loch in the moonlight. Now please don't be all stuffy and refuse me,' she ended coaxingly. Before Kerr could reply, Elizabeth, mortified at the position she was in, pushed the present for Alasdair into her handbag and got to her feet. 'Don't bother about me, Kerr. As Linnet says, I can go back in your car.' 'No doubt you could,' he replied evenly, 'but it happens that I came up to Kirkloch on the Birlinn.' 'Then I'll get a taxi,' Elizabeth said quickly. 'Yes, exactly! She can return by taxi. Well now, that's settled, isn't it, Kerr?' Linnet asked with satisfaction. 'No, not quite,' he returned evenly. Linnet looked puzzled. 'But what's the problem? It's all arranged.' 'Maybe to your .satisfaction, but certainly not to mine. Has it not dawned on you, Linnet, that I'm not one of your performing poodles?' She looked genuinely puzzled. 'What on earth has come over you, Kerr :' I thought you'd want to stay. Why are you raising obstacles, when we've resolved the problem?'

'It just so happens that I want to take Elizabeth home on the Birlinn. Can't you get that through your head?' Elizabeth saw Linnet's lace tighten with dawning dismay. 'You mean you'd actually prefer to do that? Rather than stay on here for the dance?' 'Exactly! That's it! Are you so used to flattering sycophants that you find it unbelievable that a man could refuse you?' Linnet stared at Kerr wide-eyed, her face blank with shock. Then, as suddenly, rage superseded the realisation that she had been bluntly rejected and that Elizabeth had been a silent witness of her humiliation. She sprang to her feet, her eyes glittering. 'Very well, if that's how you want it! But don't come snivelling back to me if things go wrong—and believe me, they will. Without my help and backing, you'll never be able to do the things you've longed to do! You'll never be able to cut loose from that wretched farm of yours! The Birlinn will never take you to the parts of the world you've always longed to explore. I could have made your dreams come true, Kerr, if only you'd let me!' For a moment Kerr stared in silence at the furious and frustrated girl. 'Has it not occurred to you that my ambitions might have changed? Maybe I want something more durable from life ? But I don't expect you to understand that, Linnet.' Then, before she could resume her onslaught, Kerr took Elizabeth's arm and turning, left her. As they went from the room, Elizabeth had a final glimpse of Linnet. She was staring down at the table, a look of stunned

disbelief on her beautiful features. It was clear that Kerr's abrupt departure had taken her completely by surprise. But Elizabeth felt no sense of triumph as she walked by Kerr's side through the narrow streets, with their quaint old-fashioned buildings, some of them dating back to the days of Bonnie Prince Charlie. She was aware of Kerr tight-lipped and silent, wrapped in his own thoughts, but she made no attempt to speak as they walked across the jetty and went aboard the Birlinn. Instead, she immediately went below. She would, she decided, wisely leave Kerr to his own devices and probably by the time he had hoisted sail and they were on their way he would be in a more receptive mood, because she had a question that, come what may, she was resolved to ask him. Later, when the Birlinn was hissing through the water, Elizabeth went on deck. The evening sun outlined the mountains as though with molten gold and Elizabeth stood for a moment drinking in the scene, the breeze blowing her hair in a Dervish dance. Then she joined Kerr where he sat at the tiller. Nervously she swept her hair back from her eyes before saying, haltingly, 'I do hope you didn't refuse to stay with Linnet, just because you felt responsible for me.' He grinned up at her. 'But I do feel responsible for you.' She felt a surge of relief as she saw that his blue eyes were filled with their old mischief. 'Apart from that, it's time Linnet found a man who's capable of saying no to her. I imagine it will be a salutary experience.'

'I see. So that's why you refused her! It was because you were determined to teach her a lesson!' Elizabeth felt her happiness drain away and a little pain clutch at her heart. 'Why, what other reason could I possibly have?' Kerr inquired blandly. She turned her head away and gazed at the distant mountains, now growing an even deeper hue. Why had she allowed herself to keep on hoping? She clutched her hands in sudden misery and desperation. Then suddenly she was aware of Kerr's mouth close to her ear. 'Is it so hard to believe I might prefer your company, my darling Liza?' She turned slowly and unbelievingly, but the look in his eyes was unmistakable. 'Can't you see I've always loved you, Liza? You should have known— women are supposed to sense these things.' She shook her head in silence, dazed by the sudden resurgence of happiness. She laughed a little weakly. 'I can't say your manner would exactly encourage a girl.' 'I'm afraid my manner is something you'll always have to put up with, even when you're Mrs. Kerr Carmichael—that is, of course, if you like the sound of it?' 'Mrs. Kerr Carmichael,' she repeated wonderingly. 'Yes, yes, Kerr. I love the sound of it.' The Birlinn surged forward, the spinnaker billowing, so that she seemed like a swan breasting the waves. 'Soon you'll be home, my darling,' he whispered.

Elizabeth let her head slide to his shoulder with a happy sigh as he gently kissed her smiling lips.