Deception (9 page)

'Never
mind,' deliberately she spoke lightly, glancing
quickly at
Jamie's uncertain face, 'this Christmas we'll have
a
tree. I'll get round your father, somehow.'

In
the village shop she managed to purchase a bottle of
barley
water and other such beverages, together with some fruit and icecream, and more
general items which they were
short of. She kept the bill which
she settled herself but intended presenting to Logan later. At the butcher's
she
bought some meat and a plump chicken along with some
bones
for soup. Here, too, she paid and kept the bill.

After
picking Jamie up, while she was hunting through
the box of
groceries for a packet of sweets she had got for
him, he drew her
attention to a van selling fish. Deciding
it would just be the very
thing for Logan Murray's dinner,
she hastened to make yet
another purchase. Jamie, follow
ing her eagerly, said he
liked kippers, so she got a few pairs
for breakfast. The man
who was selling the fish asked Jamie
how his father was, but
seemed more interested in Thea.
 
 

He was a youngish man
and she found herself subjected to several curious glances. She felt driven at
last to say coolly that she was the new housekeeper at Drumlarig, which, for no
reason she could think of, appeared to interest the man even more.

Fear that she might be
taking too much upon herself too soon, as Logan Murray had suggested, couldn't
prevent
a certain feeling of satisfaction,
as she drove home. She had
only been at Drumlarig a day, yet it felt
more like weeks. It must surely be that her roots were here, that because she
had been born here she was fitting in so naturally. Logan Murray might not
think so, but as she didn't like him she wouldn't let this worry her. He had a
strange effect on her and she was sure they could never be friends, but Jamie
she did like and, she tried to convince herself, it was because of him she must
stay.

When she took Logan's
dinner up, again oh a nicely set tray, to her surprise he accepted it without
protest. He even glanced at the tray with something approaching interest, as if
it was a long time since he had had such a daintily cooked meal. Thea had baked
the fish, to make it a litde more appetising, and served it with a lighdy
buttered sauce. In a small glass dish she had put some fresh fruit salad and
icecream, which she thought he might find refreshing, and lasdy she had placed
on the tray a jug of freshly ground,
freshly
made coffee, the aroma of that alone, she considered,
being enough to
tempt any man's appetite.

While he might have
raised no protest, Logan Murray certainly wasn't going to overload her with
appreciation. As she put the tray down where he could reach it he was disinclined
to talk. He waved her away, saying he could manage,- and she was so pleased he
hadn't refused to have anything that she scarcely noticed he didn't thank her.
She was even happier to notice that he took a long drink from the jug of barley
water she had made, and wiping his lips with a sigh of satisfaction as she
departed. It wasn't until
she was through
the door that she paused to wonder if his
pleasure had been at her going, rather than the barley
water.

Later,
when she went back to collect his tray, she found him sleeping, so she quietly
made up the fire, then left him.
He had eaten almost all
his supper and his fever appeared
to
have
gone. She could see he was much cooler and she
hoped he would
sleep until morning. A she stood for a
moment looking down at
him, she wondered, her pulse
beating unevenly, if it would be the
last time she would
see him asleep.

Next
morning Thea woke early in the room she had been
given. It was
still dark and she felt confused, not instantly
remembering where
she was. She thought, when she first
drowsily opened her
eyes, that she was in London, in her
flat, and she almost
turned over and went to sleep again.

Almost,
but not quite. With a jerk she sat up as full
realisation came
to her. She wasn't in her flat, she was at Drumlarig, and it must be years
since she had woken with
such a feeling of eagerness. Allowing herself
a luxurious
moment of contemplation, she puzzled over
it, unable to
account for it. It must be that because,
until recently, her
grandparents had ruled her life perhaps too
strictly this
sense of new-found freedom was going to her
head. Thea's
smooth brow creased. Freedom wasn't quite
the right
word. It was more the feeling of being in control, where
before
she had been the one to be controlled. Even when
Logan Murray
managed to leave his bed, which couldn't be for a while yet, if she was to be
his housekeeper he
couldn't seriously interfere with the way she
ran the house.
Or could he? Not even Grandmother had dared
do that,
with her housekeepers. Dismissing such a thought as
foolish,
Thea dreamed happily on, unprepared for the rude shock that awaited her on her
arrival downstairs.

Her
first change of mood came when she suddenly
realised, with a gasp of
dismay, that she had slept soundly
all night and Logan Murray's fire might be
out. As she tumbled out of bed the coldness of the room made her shiver and,
when she managed to stumble over it to switch on the light, the bareness of it
didn't help. There was a small makeshift bathroom attached to her
bedroom,"also a small sitting room. Martha had explained that it was the
housekeeper's official suite. Unfortunately it was too shabbily furnished
to be half as grand as Martha made it sound.

Thea hadn't felt quite
so amused when Martha had gone on to say that the housekeepers at Drumlarig
were expected to spend their free time, if they ever had any, either here or in
the kitchen. Then Thea had recalled what Logan Murray had said about her taking
the freedom of the house —until he was up and about!

Plain enough speaking!
Thea shrugged as she quickly sluiced her sleepy face in cold water. No one
hinted in this house. The sitting room was not very comfortable but, given
time, she could probably improve it. It might, even as it was, be no worse than
the huge, neglected rooms downstairs. Yesterday she had peeped in one or two of
them and had not been impressed by what she had seen. Two of the downstairs
rooms, she had noticed, were not even furnished. There were all the signs that
they had been, but now they were quite bare and empty.

Putting on the skirt
and sweater she had brought with her, Thea brushed out her hair and tied it
back, so that it
lay like a sleek, shining
cap against her small, graceful head,
guaranteed, she felt sure, to make
her look older. Little did she realise it had quite the opposite effect. Then,
just as she was, her grey eyes sparkling, her smooth cheeks glowing pink
from the cold water, she ran downstairs. She would get the kitchen fire going
before taking up more logs for Logan Murray, then get them both a nice hot cup
of tea.

 
CHAPTER
FOUR

It
wasn't
until she reached the kitchen that Thea felt the first stirrings of an
unwelcome premonition. But not until she pushed open the door did she realise
why she had gone suddenly cold as she crossed the hall. Logan Murray was
sitting on the edge of the wide, scrubbed table, calmly observing the
cessation of all movement in his new housekeeper's limbs.

From this distance
Thea stared at him, knowing it must be stupid to be so stunned but unable to
help it. Logan Murray was here, downstairs and dressed in his kilt, dominating
the room. Dominating herself, too, it would appear, as she was strangely bereft
of speech. He looked grey and strained, but he had about him an air of
determination, an arrogance of bearing. Thea recognised, with a sinking heart,
that Logan Murray up was an entirely different proposition from the man in bed,
and even there he had been a man to be reckoned with.

'Good morning.' His
voice, cool and clipped, was a sure indication that nothing had been missed in
his education. He broke the silence, which Thea was not immediately
capable of doing, in a way she envied. He didn't
say she was
too early or accuse her of being late, he simply acknowledged
her, from his superior position, as he might have done Martha or Duncan. But
for them, she was certain, there would have been more warmth.

Thea was so surprised
she could only stand dumbly and stare. She took in the breadth of his shoulders
under his rough woollen shirt, the strength and suppleness of his tall body
without really seeing anything. He might look good in a kilt, but he had ruined
all her plans. She had seen herself nursing him for several more days, until he
had come to realise she was indispensable. Now here he was, ready, she
suspected, to go out and tend his stock. He obviously had no intention of going
back to bed and allowing her to look after him.

'Mr Murray,' she found
her voice at last, 'you aren't well enough to be up! Do you think it's wise?'

'Probably not,' he
agreed, 'but I don't doubt I'll survive. My animals might not, though, if they
don't receive proper attention.'

'You have a shepherd.
He's around.'

'I also have a
housekeeper, it appears, who's already trying to run my life. You might
have proved yourself useful, Miss Andrews, but I hope you know where to stop.'

While he stared at her
narrowly, Thea digested this. He had mentioned her usefulness, but she doubted
if he had meant it as a compliment. Probably he was just stating a fact, as he
saw it. She "didn't think he would waste much time praising anybody.

His green eyes, which
she thought saw far too much, studied her closely—and sceptically. 'I
would rather you'd been twenty years older, fifty instead of thirty, but
perhaps you'll be able to work harder than a woman twice your age.'