The House on the Shore (9 page)

“Perhaps the timing wasn’t quite right.
We’re both more mature now, and you’re no longer the gangly teenager you once were.
You’re a beautiful woman,
a
nd if rumour is to be believed, you’re still unattached.”

Anna’s green eyes sparkled with amusement.
“Are you trying to chat me u
p, by any chance?”

“I never did like that turn of phrase
,
far too common.
Just let’s say that I’d like to renew our acquaintance.
Have dinner with me
, please
?
I know this delightful restaurant in Glasgow.
It’s chic and intimate, and the food is wonderful.
We could take in a show and make a night of it.”

Anna thought about his offer for a millisecond.
He was attractive, intelligent, and at times, amusing.
All the qualities she admired in a man, but a cynical inner voice cut through her thoughts.
He was also a love-them-and-leave-them Lothario.
C
ould his father’s illness have forced him to change his ways?
She doubted it.
Besides, she wasn’t ready for another relationship
, a
t least not yet.
W
hen she was, it would be with a man she could trust with
her life.

“Alistair, it’s very
kind of you
,
but no thank you.”

“Not even for old time’s sake?”

Anna wavered
.
“
M
ay I think about it?”

“Of course you may.
You never k
now, you might enjoy yourself.”

“We move in totally different circles and have absolutely nothing in common,” Anna said looking out of the window to where the dogs lay on the lawn.

“On the contrary, I’m sure if we took the t
ime to become re-acquainted, we woul
d find we h
ave
many
mutual interests.”

“I’ve only just arrived, Alistair.
Let me get
settled in, then ask me again.”

“Very well, my dear, if that’s what you want.
T
hink of
the
world I could introduce you to.
Who knows
?
Y
ou might even
be
come
mistress of Killilan House
one day
.
I’ll drop by
one day
next week.
”
He tugged at his waistcoat and stood.
“
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really must be going.
I have an appointment with my f
actor.
Thank you for the drink
.
”
He gave her a hug.

Anna watched him drive off before returning to her manuscript.
It was only when Ensay, bored by hou
rs of inactivity, wandered over
and sat a
t her
feet that
she looked up.

She lean
ed
back in her chair and
cast a critical eye over the words on the screen.
Not bad for an opening chapter.
Of course the grammar would need to be tightened
. T
he storyline needed tweaking, and her characters needed names.
She smiled to herself, feeling guilty.
She always told her students they must plan each chapter down to the last comma, but now she
realized
she couldn’t write like that.
She much preferred the freedom to develop her characters page by page, rather than have them fully evolved before a word wa
s typed.

Absentmindedly, she reached down and stroked the black and white head resting on her knee.
When she stopped, the dog nudged her hand for more attention.
Anna looke
d into the trusting brown eyes.

“I suppose you
think
I’m
ignoring you.”

The collie
nudged
her hand once more.
Anna’s gentle laughter rippled through the still air.
She was sure the dog
understood every word she said.

“I get the message.
You want to play.
But if I’m going to keep you in dog biscuits all summer, you’ll have to learn to amuse yourself and let me work.”
She saved her manuscript and then carried her laptop into the croft.
The dog followed faithfully at her heels.

Alistair G
rant returned to Killilan House
and shut himself in the library.
What was wrong with him?
He’d always had success with the ladies
-
it took little effort
. Y
et that little effort hadn’t made Anna MacDonald accept his offer of a date.
N
othing was wrong with him.
It was her.
She ha
d clearly become a man-hater.
Still, he had to do something about her…something…

He opened th
e small rosewood drinks cabinet
and poured himself a large measure of Scotch.
He stared into the glass
. A
resentful expression settled on his aristocratic features.
Until a month ago
,
his life had been perfect.
A yacht, admittedly leased for the season, an Aston Martin, fabulous parties, attended by A-list celebrities
, b
ut it had all come to an end the day his father
was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.

At least the old boy was safely ensconced in a nursing home where he couldn’t do any more damage.
T
he cost, added to the estate’s huge overdraft, was crippling.
Sophie, his sister, and her Hong Kong banker husband
,
were of no help.
They ha
d refused to assist with the fees, saying that all their spare cash was tied up in
stocks, bonds,
and other investments, and would take some time to convert to cash.
It was a poor excuse
.
H
e knew they were lying, and
had
told them so
, and t
he ensuing argument was bitter and futile.
Sophie said she woul
d never speak to him again.
He h
ad every reason to believe her.

A grim letter from the family accountant had arrived that morning.
Things were worse than he imagined.
He tossed back the whis
ky, then picked up the decanter
and carried it back to his desk.
While drinking didn’t solve his problem, it sure helped
. A
lthough having the servants see him drinking this early in the
day
would
have given his mother apoplexy
.

Ordinarily, he would have found comfort in the library, but today its sombre decoration only added to his depression.
The walls, apart from one, which held
portraits of his father and grandfather
, were covered in floor to ceiling bookshelves.
Chinese rugs
covered
the
polished
wood floor.
He paced the room, stopping in front of the Louis XV mantel clock.
He wondered whether it was an original or a copy.
He turned it round to examine it when someone knocked on the door.
A wiry, bald headed man
stepped inside the room
and glared at him wordlessly.

“Mac
K
innon.
Come in
.
I’ve been expecting you.”
Alistair sank into his overstuffed leather desk chair.

McKenzie
MacKinnon had been recommended by a friend of a friend in France as
having the skills necessary to do the job
, but God alone knew which gutter he
’
d climbed out of
, or where he ha
d found his clothes
.

MacKinnon
kicked
the door
closed w
ith the heel of his right boot.

“For
God
’
s sake!
” shouted Alistair
.
“
B
e careful.
Y
ou nearly sent
a
Minton vase toppling.
It
’
s worth all of
three
grand
.”

Mac
scratched his head.
“
Aye?
But that
’
s
nothing
compared with the
value of this place as a whole,
and once you
’
ve signed
yon piece of paper
, you
’
ll be able to afford even more fancy jugs.
”

“
T
hat
rather depend
s on you, doesn
’
t it?
”
Alistair replied.
“
So far,
we
haven
’
t
discussed the finer details of our…our
little business
transaction
, which brings me nicely to the subject.
Take a seat.
”

Mac dropped
heavily
into
a
Chippendale chair.
The delicate chair legs creaked
rebelliously
under his weight.
He
rested his shotgun on his knees
and
folded his arms across his chest
.
H
is gaze
settled
on the young Laird
’
s face.

“
I have four weeks in which to sign the contract.
If I don
’
t meet the deadline
the deal is off, and along w
ith it
,
our arrangement.”

Mac
’
s
thin lips
twisted into
thin line
.
“
That
’
s what you think, your Lairdship.
We have an agreement and it says nothing about payment being conditional on
completion.”

“
Don
’
t try
veiled threats with
me, MacKinnon.
I know enough about your activities to put yo
u inside for a very long time.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.
Y
ou must be desperate to hire th
e
likes of me.”

Alistair took out his handkerchief and d
abbed his
palms.
He felt dirty
having to
deal with this disreputable man, but time was running out
,
so
he had no other option.

“I was told you could get the job done quickly and without any fuss.”

“
Aye,
so you said on the phone.
The taxes on this place must be crippling.
Even so, it
must be really tough owning all this
,” MacKinnon
said, waving his arm about the room.
“But don’t
worry
,
your Lairdship
.
There
’
s plenty of time
for me to deal with your problem.”

“Y
ou
’
ve made little progress to date.
You told me that you woul
d have everything sorted within no time at all.
What happened?”

“It will be sorted, so long as you stop interfering.
You should have stayed in the south of France.”

“I couldn’t, you know that.
An estate of this s
ize doesn’t run itself
.”

“That’s as may be
.
T
hese matters take time your Lair
dship,
if they are to be handled properly.
You’ve o
nly just appointed me as factor.
I can’t start shouting orders or your tenants will get suspicious.
T
hat McInnes woman,
for one—s
he sees everything.
It’s positively uncanny.
Y
ou don’t want the village gossip
spreading rumours
.
”