Moreton's Kingdom (12 page)

For another hour she crouched beside the stove with no way of lighting it even if she had been able to find wood or twigs to make a fire. She was more cold than she had ever been in all her life before and her eyes began to droop heavily.

Whether she slept or not, propped against the stove, she was never quite sure, but suddenly she was arrested by an unusual sound. It came in drifts, above her and around, fading away just when she realised that it must be the engine of a plane coming in over the hills. Charles returning in the Cessna to find her gone!

She sprang to her feet, wanting to go to meet him, but how foolish that was! He would be nearing Glassary by now, turning the little plane into the landing strip and walking up to the house where Mrs. Stevas would be waiting for him.

The minutes fled away. It was quite dark now, with the mist, like a blanket, pressing against the window. Katherine went to the front of the house, staring out, trying to penetrate the grey wall in front of her, listening in the quiet for the slightest sound.

When it came it sounded like the distant beat of hooves, and suddenly she knew that it was just that. Someone was going down the road on a horse.

She ran then, stumbling in the darkness, aware that the sound was going gradually away from her, but when she pulled up she heard it again. Whoever—whatever—had passed was coming back. She was still standing on the narrow track leading to the croft when horse and rider loomed in front of her.

‘Katherine!’ Charles exclaimed, getting down from the mare’s back.

‘Charles! Oh, Charles—!’

She was in his arms, pressing her head against his wet shoulder, holding on to him for all she was worth.

‘I found the bicycle,’ he said roughly, not putting her away. 'Why did you leave the road?’

‘I thought—if I got to the croft I’d find shelter there, but it was empty.’ She could hardly form the words for sheer relief. ‘I knew it was dangerous to wander about in a mist.’

‘We’ll have to go back there,’ he said. ‘For a while, anyway, to give the mare a rest. She came up the glen like the wind, although sometimes we couldn’t see a yard ahead of us. I can’t ask her to go back all that way with the mist thickening. We’ll be safe enough at the croft for a while.’

He led the way back up the track with the mare’s bridle over his arm and a steadying hand under Katherine’s elbow.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, aware that he was deliberately making light of their predicament. ‘I should never have taken the bicycle. I should never have left Glassary.’

He didn’t answer that, pushing open the door to let her go into the croft ahead of him, and she went gladly this time, feeling herself safe. It was some minutes before Charles followed her in.

‘I’ve tethered the mare in an outhouse of sorts,’ he explained, ‘and I’ve found some wood. We’ll have a fire going in next to no time, though I can’t promise you anything to eat. I left Glassary too quickly to think about food.’

‘It doesn’t matter.’ She stood watching as he held his lighter to the damp wood he had collected. ‘Surely we won’t be here for ever.’

‘No.’ His tone was abrupt, although he would not blame her for the predicament they were in. ‘Mists have been known to lift in an hour—or settle in for days. There’s no wind.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she repeated, believing him impatient. ‘I had no idea this would happen or I wouldn’t have attempted to come so far.’

She could still feel the comfort of his arms about her in that first moment of dissolving fear when his face had been close against her wet hair and she had known herself no longer alone, but now they stood apart again, gazing down at a reluctant fire.

When it burned up a little she could see his face more plainly, but it was without expression.

‘Come nearer,’ he said, making room at the fire. ‘We may have some time to wait.’

Sitting with his back against the table and his arm round her for added warmth, he supported her as her eyes closed. She was utterly exhausted by the trauma of the past few hours and ready to accept the comfort of his arms.

When she woke her head was against his shoulder, his long legs thrust out towards the fire which was already dying in the grate.

‘You’ve been asleep,’ he said, moving his cramped position, ‘and the mist’s lifting.’

Katherine heard the sound of the wind, then, sweeping down the glen, and the rush of it through the broken panes of the window, and she listened to it with regret and a vague, hopeless longing in her heart.

‘Time to go,’ said Charles, damping down the remains of the fire. ‘We should be able to see the road quite clearly now.’

The rising wind had banished the mist, driving it down the glen before them and a furtive moon lit their way. They reached Glassary before midnight, to be greeted by Fergus and Mrs. Stevas in the doorway, both deeply concerned for their welfare.

‘Thank goodness you’re back!’ Fergus exclaimed. ‘We were beginning to get nervous.’

‘You’ll have had nothing to eat,’ Mrs. Stevas said practically, ‘but I’ve a meal ready in the kitchen.’

Charles helped Katherine down from the mare’s back.

‘What happened?’ Fergus asked. ‘Are you hurt?’

He was looking at Katherine, his dark eyes searching her face, and Charles turned abruptly away.

‘We were trapped by the mist for a while,’ he said brusquely. ‘Katherine had sheltered in MacNiven’s old croft and we had to stay there till it lifted a bit.’

‘You’ll be hungry,’ said Fergus, putting a hand on Katherine’s arm. ‘If I know Mrs. Stevas there’ll be plenty to eat in the kitchen.’

‘It’s all ready,’ the housekeeper assured them. ‘Hot soup and an omelette when you’re ready.’

Fergus was still looking keenly at Katherine.

‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ he asked anxiously. ‘You look ghastly. Better get off all those wet clothes and get into bed. Mrs. Stevas can bring you a tray.’

‘I don’t want to cause any more trouble.’ Katherine was gazing at Charles’s unresponsive back view. ‘There’s been enough for one night.’

‘Don’t think of it as trouble,’ said Fergus. ‘We’ve been worried about you, but now everything is in focus again. When Charles came back with the Cessna we were still at the hotel and we had his car, but a horse is often the best mode of propulsion under the circumstances.’

Charles had ridden the mare hard, galloping where he could in his attempt to find her, and once again she tried to thank him.

‘I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come,’ she said. ‘I was almost at my wits’ end.’

His mouth hardened.

‘You would have survived,’ he said as Fergus hovered in the background waiting to offer her sympathy and understanding.

Why was there so much difference in Charles now that they had returned to Glassary? All the tenderness, all the concern he had shown when he had first found her out there on the moor was gone and the glimpse he had allowed her of another side to his character had faded, making her wonder if it had been no more than wishful thinking on her part when he had seemed so tender. It had seemed very real at the time. She could still remember the touch of his hand as he helped her back along the path to the deserted croft and the concern in his voice as he had assured her that all was well. That was why she had been able to sleep so fearlessly with her head cradled on his shoulder.

Because it was difficult to see everything in its true perspective, she accepted Fergus’s suggestion that she should go to bed, but she still hadn’t adjusted her thoughts when the two men followed her up the stairs an hour later. The tray Mrs. Stevas had brought her was still across her knees and she was wide awake.

The brothers paused at the head of the stairs, obviously finishing a conversation they had begun in the kitchen over their shared meal, and then, in the silence which followed the closing of a door farther along the corridor, there was a light tap at her door.

Her heart bounded at the thought of Charles, but it was Fergus who came in.

‘I wondered if you were asleep,’ he said, ‘but you look a lot better, I must say. You’ll have forgotten about everything in the morning.’

It would be difficult to forget, Katherine thought, smiling at him as he hobbled across the room.

‘I missed you,’ he said, his dark eyes sincerely concerned. ‘I wish I’d been able to help.’

‘Charles did everything he possibly could.’ Her tone was unconsciously harsh. ‘There was no point in everyone being upset, and I’m quite sure he was angry.’

He stood beside the bed for a moment, looking down at her as he sensed the drama of her return.

‘Why bother to fight Charles?’ he said. ‘He won’t keep you here any longer than he needs to. You see, he’s got to be sure you won’t spirit Sandy away on Coralie’s behalf a second time. You know I have the legal right to my son, don’t you? One day I may be able to adjust my thoughts and learn to live without Coralie, but at present the fact remains that I’m still in love with her in a kind of a way. She’s Sandy’s mother and I can’t really expect anyone to take her place quite so soon. I’m completely handicapped in many ways, Kate,’ he sighed.

‘You’re a brilliant artist,’ she protested, defending him against himself. ‘That ought to count for something.’

‘It helps,’ he admitted. ‘I sell some of my pictures and it makes me feel independent up to a point, but I can never really deny the debt I owe to Charles.’

‘He believes it’s the other way round,’ she said huskily. ‘You saved his life once.’

‘Oh, that!’ He brushed the fact aside. ‘It was one brother for another. It shouldn’t involve a debt.’

‘I can imagine Charles being determined to pay it, all the same,’ said Katherine.

‘You know he’s settled a good deal of money on my son?’

‘Yes. I knew that in the beginning.’

Fergus paused.

‘Charles considers Sandy his heir, but that’s a great mistake,’ he said. ‘He could marry and have children of his own. Coralie was a bad example, I’m afraid, and he’s the determined type.’

The fact that Charles was merely using her to further his own ends struck coldly against Katherine’s heart. He imagined that Fergus was attracted to her, but how could he be on so short an acquaintance? Three days was no time at all to reverse a man’s conception of love, and Fergus had already told her that he hadn’t quite got Coralie out of his system.

‘Goodnight, Fergus,’ she said quietly, holding out her hand to him.

He crushed her fingers in his.

‘Thank you for looking after Sandy,’ he said gratefully.

CHAPTER FIVE

It
was two days before she spoke to Charles again. The cattle mart at Dalmally had taken up a good deal of his time, but he also seemed to be avoiding her when he was at Glassary. They met at meals, but Sandy and Fergus and Mrs. Stevas were there, too, so they had no opportunity of discussing anything of a personal nature until they came face to face on the second evening.

The day had been warm and sunny, a perfect spring day with the promise of more to come, and Katherine had lingered outside on the terrace as long as she could. Charles drove up as she was about to go in.

‘Have you had a good day at the mart?’ she asked.

‘Excellent. Prices were good and everyone was in a jovial mood. Farmers are either broke or happy with their success. I sold all the sheep we took down and bought several ewes with followers. Lambs,’ he amended when she looked slightly puzzled.

‘I’ve a lot to learn.’ She smiled as he got out of the Range Rover to stand beside her. ‘I like the word “followers”, because that’s just what lambs do!’

He looked up the glen to where the sun was shining on the hills.

‘What did you expect to achieve by running away?’ he asked abruptly. ‘Quite apart from your car being out of action for another week till the parts come from Glasgow, I need you here at Glassary. In a new role,’ he added reflectively. ‘I think you could help Fergus to recover completely.’

She gazed at him for a moment as if she hadn’t quite heard what he had said, her heart beating fast against her side, her thoughts in turmoil.

‘What are you trying to say?’ she asked at last. ‘Your brother has no wish to start another love affair.’

‘I was thinking of a new start,’ he said.

‘Meaning?’

‘He needs to regain his confidence. He needs to acknowledge the fact that there are other people in the world apart from Coralie.’

Her pulses racing, Katherine turned to face him.

‘Are you suggesting that I might pick up the pieces of his broken life?’ she demanded. ‘Are you really asking me to—to compensate Fergus for all he’s suffered through Coralie? Do you expect me to do it because I helped Coralie and deceived you in the first place?’

‘I’m making a suggestion, nothing more,’ Charles answered, moving towards the house.

‘I don’t think Fergus needs me.’ She walked beside him, determined to have her say. ‘He’ll make his own decision in the end. He’s your brother,’ she pointed out with a wry smile as they reached the foot of the stairs.

Sandy came sliding down the broad banister-rail and he caught him in his arms.

‘That’s enough of that!’ he reprimanded. ‘Particularly when you’re alone.’

Sandy looked at Katherine.

‘Is it dangerous?’ he asked, hoping for her support.

‘I think you ought to do as you’re told,’ she said. ‘If your Uncle Charles says it isn’t safe, I think he knows best.’

The wide blue eyes studied her for a moment while her advice sank in.

‘I’ve had my supper,’ Sandy said, dismissing the incident of his joyous descent from the floor above to the back of his fertile little mind. ‘It was chicken soup an’ cabbage.’

‘What? No meat?’ Charles laughed. ‘That’s no way to treat a hungry man!’

‘Did you buy some new lambs?’ Sandy wanted to know since he was now properly forgiven.

Charles nodded.

‘Several. They came with the ewes.’

‘I’ll see them in the morning,’ said Sandy, climbing the stairs again as Fergus made his appearance at the dining room door.

‘Had a good day?’ he asked, looking at his brother. ‘Did you sell what you took to Dalmally?’

‘The lot,’ said Charles, turning to mount the stairs after his nephew. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I’ll get a wash and change while you amuse each other.’

He seemed bent on throwing them together, although Katherine had done her best to explain that she wasn’t attracted to Fergus in the way he hoped she might be. Perhaps she hadn’t been firm enough, but she hadn’t wanted to argue with Charles again.

‘Emma is pressing on with the exhibition,’ Fergus told her as they walked through to the drawing-room. ‘She’s quite determined to include my pictures, so I expect I ought to go along with it.’ He paused to look at her speculatively. ‘If you’re not going back to London immediately we thought you might be willing to help.’

‘I’d like nothing better,’ Katherine began, ‘but—’

‘But?’ he prompted.

‘I don’t know the first thing about art,’ she excused herself, because she seemed to be walking into a trap of Charles’s making.

‘That wouldn’t matter one bit,’ Fergus declared. ‘We wouldn’t expect you to discuss my pictures—perspective and sensitivity and all that rot. You’d be on the selling side and Emma or I would be there for reference if a critic did get you into a corner. You really don’t need to go back to London, I gather, so won’t you consider it?’

‘I wish I could.’ She sat down on the settee where he had settled himself. ‘But you know how Charles feels about me. He can’t trust me, and all this is—sort of family, isn’t it?’

‘That’s rubbish!’ he exclaimed. ‘We’ve known you for almost a week now and it stands out a mile that you’re perfectly honest.’