Heir To Glengyle. Miriam Macgregor

Cathie returned his glare, the gold flecks in her hazel eyes flashing sparks as she flung at him, ‘It’s just that I wouldn’t like you to break an arm while lifting a case for a Campbell, Mr MacGregor.’

      Amy showed signs of agitation. ‘My goodness, is this how young New Zealanders go on these days? One would almost imagine you didn’t like each other.’

      Words that would excuse their behaviour and lighten the situation evaded Cathie, who found herself saying, ‘I’m afraid that some of the men from Down Under get beyond themselves, especially if they imagine they have a girl at a disadvantage.’

      Baird gave a short laugh. ‘As for the women, some of them have tongues as sharp as butchers’ knives—especially the redheads,’ he added cynically.

      The silence following his words was broken by a sigh that came from Amy. ‘It would please me greatly if you’d both try to be friends,’ she said in a pathetic voice that held a slight tremor.

      Baird’s tone became ironic. ‘I’m afraid we can’t have everything we desire in this life, Amy.’

      ‘Yet you appear to be doing very well for a young man of thirty-three,’ she said drily. She then turned to Cathie. ‘That makes him nine years your senior, because I think Ellen said you are now twenty-four. Isn’t that right?’

      Cathie nodded without speaking.

      Baird looked pointedly at Cathie as he said, ‘Twenty-four, eh? Surely that’s an age when we should begin to grow up.’

      ‘Yes, it is,’ she agreed sweetly. ‘However, I’ve noticed some who continue to be a pain in the neck until into their thirties.’

      Amy sighed. ‘Really, you two—I can’t understand—’

      Baird grinned at her. ‘I’ll get the car out. Perhaps Miss Campbell will be good enough to come to the garage entrance.’

      Cathie felt guilty, and the moment Baird left the room she turned to apologise to Amy. ‘I’m sorry, Amy. I’ll try to keep myself under control. I told you he doesn’t like me, and you can also blame this awful red hair for my unruly tongue.’

      Amy’s mouth tightened. ‘That auburn hair of his also has a good splash of red in it, but it’s no excuse. I’m sorry he’s like this, dear. I’ve never known him to be in such a cross mood.’

      Elspeth said darkly, her broad Scottish accent seeming to be more pronounced, ‘I blame all that tramping through the heather he’s been doing. It has a weird effect on many people filled with Scottish blood. It stirs their roots and they begin to hear the skirl of the pipes out on the hillsides. They see men wearing the kilt, their plaids flung over their shoulders, come marching out of the mist.’

      Amy snorted. ‘That’s only after they’ve been on the bottle for too long. But I’ll agree with you on one point—Baird’s roots have definitely been stirred up, and for that I blame his grandfather’s books.’

      Cathie said, ‘I’d better not commit the sin of keeping him waiting. He’s mad enough with me as it is—’

      She hastened outside to where Baird had backed the car from the garage. He opened the door for her and after muttering a brief thank-you she sat in silence until he had driven up the hill to the Crieff Hydro hotel.

      ‘I’ll not be long,’ she informed him coldly as the car stopped near the front entrance. ‘I’ll just collect my case and pay my account.’ She then left the car and hurried into the hotel.

      A short time later when she reached the office situated in the wide and lengthy hall the woman behind the counter smiled affably. ‘It’s all settled, Miss Campbell,’ she said. ‘That gentleman over there has paid your account. I hope you’ve enjoyed your stay—’

      But Cathie scarcely heard her. Her cheeks pink with anger, she crossed the hall to glare at Baird who was examining one of the many paintings on the wall.

      ‘Did you pay my account?’ she demanded furiously.

      ‘Yes. What of it?’ He turned to look at her.

      ‘How dare you put me under an obligation?’

      ‘It was Amy’s request. Didn’t you hear her ask me to fix everything else?’ His tone had become bored.

      Cathie’s jaw sagged slightly. ‘I didn’t realise she meant—’

      ‘You weren’t listening,’ he cut in acidly. ‘You were too busy thinking up bitchy remarks to fling at me.’

      ‘My oath—hark at who’s talking,’ she snapped indignantly.

      ‘Get in the car. I want to talk to you.’ He picked up her case and carried it through the wide entrance doors.

      ‘You mean you want to recount more Campbell atrocities?’ she panted, having to run to keep up with his long strides as he made his way towards the car.

      ‘Nothing of the sort,’ he retorted abruptly.

      Slightly puzzled, she sat in silence while they made their way down the hill, then left the town to drive a short distance to where a factory made colourful paperweights. Baird parked the car, then led her into the showroom where she was allowed only a short viewing of the brilliantly coloured balls and shapes before being led back to the vehicle.

      ‘Amy will be pleased I’ve shown you this display,’ he remarked nonchalantly. ‘And it will account for the extra time we’ll be taking over the discussion I intend to have with you.’

      Even more bewildered, she sat in the car staring straight ahead, waiting for him to begin.

      He turned in his seat to face her, his brown eyes watching her intently for several moments before he said, ‘With regard to the hotel account—can you be gracious enough to accept it without fuss?’

      ‘But there’s no need—’

      ‘What has need to do with it? It is something Amy wanted to do because she wants you to be her guest. Is that too much for you to understand?’

      ‘I suppose not,’ she conceded reluctantly.

      ‘Nor is there any need for you to concern yourself about the expense. Financially, Amy is very comfortable. My grandfather saw to that fact by leaving her the interest from the Glengyle Estate. But you probably know that in any case.’

      She felt he was watching her closely, so she ignored his last comment by saying, ‘I saw the name “Glengyle” over the door.’

      ‘He had numerous business interests, and when he died all his assets went into what became known as the Glengyle Estate. He liked the name because the famous—or infamous—Rob Roy MacGregor was born at Glengyle. You’ve heard of Rob Roy, I presume?’

      ‘Who hasn’t? But I’m amazed to hear you admit to the infamous aspect of him.’

      ‘We won’t go into that,’ he declared coldly.

      ‘I’ll bet we won’t,’ she snapped back at him. ‘Is this what you’ve brought me here to talk about?’

      ‘It is not. I want to talk about Amy. I want your help.’

      Surprise caused her eyes to widen as she turned to stare at him. ‘Let’s get this straight. You’re asking a Campbell for help, Mr MacGregor?’

      ‘Yes, I am.’

      ‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this.’

      His mouth twisted. ‘If you’d rather not hear it we can go home at once.’

      ‘I didn’t say that. So—how can I help you?’ She was now thoroughly curious.

      ‘I’d like you to pull your weight in persuading Amy to come to New Zealand for our summer. It would enable her to avoid the Scottish winter, which can be very cold.’