Winds from the Sea Read online

  “Jane?” Quickly his glance sharpened, his eyes alert.

  Sara wished she hadn’t said anything. Hastily she tried to explain. “Jane Marlee, my friend, Mr. Kerr’s secretary. It was really through her that I heard about this job.”

  “I see.” For some undefinable reason he appeared to relax visibly. “Well, to put the record straight, it was my father’s business, not mine. Not until he disappeared six months ago on his yacht. I’ve been abroad most of the time. I’m an engineer.”

  “I’m sorry,” Sara said slowly. It seemed strange that James hadn’t mentioned it, but apparently he hadn’t thought it necessary. If only she had known it would have saved her this temporary embarrassment.

  Hugh Fraser’s eyes narrowed. He said gently but with a firm note in his deep voice, “All this is irrelevant as far as you’re concerned. If you like we can argue about the time later. I’m afraid the shock of my father’s death was too much for my uncle who was older and not in good health. He loved Lochgoil, but I didn’t realize how much he’d let things go until I came to sort out his affairs.”

  He paused and Sara looked away, carefully suppressing another murmur of sympathy, feeling instinctively that it wouldn’t be welcome. He was talking to her now because of her job. “Old people invariably neglect their business,” she pointed out, remembering some of her father’s older patients.

  He ignored this and went on wryly, “I’m afraid that when I saw the muddle in my uncle’s study I immediately sent James Kerr a cry for help, but it was impossible to discuss details until you arrived. Apart from the clerical side there’s something else I want to talk to you about before we reach Lochgoil.”

  “A good secretary is nothing if not versatile,” Sara quoted weakly, while attempting to hide a sudden nervousness with a bright smile.

  He stubbed his finished cigarette. “Mrs. Scott, my housekeeper, will probably think so,” he frowned absently. “And she’ll no doubt consider it her duty to keep an eye on you. So be warned.”

  In spite of her tiredness Sara chuckled. She usually got on well with older people. “Is she elderly?” she asked, meeting his dark eyes with renewed confidence.

  “In her sixties, I believe.” His brow creased resignedly. “Biddy’s a bit of an institution. Almost like one of the family, I suppose, and she likes her own way.”

  “Mr. Kerr did mention your stepsister,” Sara ventured cautiously. “He said you needed someone to help look after her.”

  She noticed that his face darkened fractionally as she spoke, and his expression was a mixture of resignation and impatience. “Jill is only twenty,” he told her. “Her mother is in America on a long visit—she is actually American by birth, and Jill is supposed to be left in my care.”

  “Is there no one else?”

  “More suitable, you mean?” His eyes glinted derisively as Sara flushed. “No one with any influence, I’m afraid.”

  Sara shot him a quick glance as his firm lips tightened. “You sound as if you have a problem.”

  “I could have,” he agreed drily. “And it’s one which I could well have done without. Jill appears to have got herself involved with rather a wild set since her mother left. Unfortunately,” he sighed, “I’ve been too busy, and Jill just hasn’t enough to do.”

  Sara couldn’t help wondering why his sister hadn’t gone to America with her mother. Surely such a trip would prove more exciting than a few off-beat friends?” It’s probably just a phase,” she suggested tactfully, turning her gaze from his frowning face to where his hands lay lightly on the steering wheel.

  “Spare me the platitudes,” his face was cynical. “You don’t know my sister. She doesn’t go through phases. She thinks she knows all the answers, yet manages to remain completely irresponsible. At the moment she imagines she’s in love with a penniless artist, and is determined to marry him.”

  Sara’s eyes swung back startled to his face. Obviously from the tone of his voice he disapproved. Was it the artist, she wondered, or his financial status?” If he’s otherwise all right,” she murmured uncertainly, “he might not always be penniless?”

  “You could try listening to me, Miss Winton.” He slewed around in his seat, catching her eyes, wide and unguarded, his own sardonic. “You’ve come a long way, and you’re probably too tired to think straight. You could allow yourself to be guided by me. I do happen to have certain information. What I’ve heard of this young man leaves a lot to be desired. And that’s putting it mildly.”

  “But have you met him?” she asked swiftly. The weight of his body was only inches from her own, but mentally she felt they were poles apart. Her pulse suddenly, inexplicably missed another beat. She felt sorry for the erring Jill.

  He dealt with her query decisively, his eyes glinting as they narrowed over her. “I’m only concerned with Jill’s impulsiveness. She is just getting over an operation and is coming to Lochgoil to convalesce. No one here knows anything about this particular boy-friend, so unless she does so herself, I don’t think we need mention him. Probably if she doesn’t see him for a while she’ll forget all about him. But this is where I must have your help. I hardly think that he’ll follow her here, but I need someone to keep an eye on her, and report to me if they see anything suspicious. I don’t think that you’ll find this a particularly arduous task.”

  Sara frowned, still not convinced. She had an uneasy feeling that she hadn’t heard the whole story, that he was holding something back. It all sounded a bit too melodramatic, like some tale from the Middle Ages, and surely a more sympathetic approach would be better than this ‘heavy father’ act. Probably with Jill’s mother away, his sense of responsibility had thrown him a little off balance. She said, “Couldn’t you be somewhat prejudiced? Your sister and this man might be genuinely in love.”

  “I’ve already told you that it’s impossible.” His voice clipped short, his whole attitude inflexible. “Will you do as I ask?”

  Hadn’t he ever been in love himself? Sara wondered. She doubted it. A man like this would have his emotions under rigid control. His heart would only be allowed to soften according to the dictates of his head—and that would not be much.

  When she didn’t reply immediately he repeated his question impatiently, his voice hardening.

  “I refuse to spy,” Sara retorted, as sharply as she dared. Their eyes met, the air was taut with antagonism.

  “I’m not asking you to spy. Don’t be ridiculous!” Exasperated, he ran terse fingers through his thick dark hair, as if irritated by the whole situation. “If there was anything, of course, I should expect you to tell me, but not to exaggerate small incidents out of all proportion.”

  “Is that an order?”

  “It could be.”

  “And if I don’t agree?” Sara quailed inwardly, even while her eyes sparkled with indignation.

  He said thinly, his gaze cold on her flushed face, “I wouldn’t want to make an issue of it, but employees are usually prepared to obey orders.”

  “Within limits!” The words tumbled rebelliously from Sara’s lips.

  His answer came with chilling swiftness. “I ought to have seen you in London myself!”

  Sara knew intuitively that no one had openly defied him before. She heard a voice—her own. “All right, you win. As I’m here I’ve not much option. I’ll do what I can.” Her capitulation was swift, but not noticeably graceful. She felt mutinous.

  “Good.” Now he was smiling, the smile of a man used to getting his way. He was prepared to be generous and disregard her unaccountable behaviour. “I think you’ll find there won’t be much to do, other than stopping Jill from running back to London every time she gets bored. Now we’ll get on our way.” He dismissed the subject as he flicked the starter, reversing sharply, shattering the silence. “I take it you won’t mind working for me,” he said smoothly, above the noise of the engine.

  Sara’s blue eyes smouldered as the Land-Rover swung around. She was stung by both his words and his manner, bu
t decided to ignore his subtle reprisal. He must know that he wasn’t being absolutely fair, but how could she argue the finer points of a situation which, on the face of it, seemed relatively simple? If Jill and her boy-friend really were in love it didn’t seem likely that they wouldn’t attempt to see each other, and if something like this should happen he couldn’t possibly hold her responsible.

  “When does your sister arrive?” she asked coolly as she clutched the edge of her seat to regain her balance.

  He smiled a little ironically at her tangible air of hostility. “In a week or so, I expect. She’s staying in London until she’s well enough to travel, which should give us time to get started.”

  “Of course.” It took an effort, but Sara concentrated on the view again. She felt slightly giddy as she dragged her eyes away from him. He was darkly, vividly masculine, with eyes like summer lightning, missing nothing. She added, defensively, “I’m used to long hours and hard work.”

  “You’d better be.” His eyes licked over her sharply, noting the flare of colour beneath her smooth skin. “This won’t exactly be a holiday. There appears to be about five years’ work to catch up on. My uncle was obviously getting too old to cope.”

  “Aren’t you being a little unkind?” She tilted her small head coolly. “Was there no one to help him?” She didn’t dare ask where he had been himself. Probably in some far-off corner of the universe, judging by the mahogany colour of his skin.

  He smiled, a little ironically, correctly construing her unspoken reproach, but making no attempt to explain his absence. Again he looked at her narrowly. “It seems to me, Sara, that you’re too fond of asking questions! My uncle was no office man, as you will see. He preferred to spend his time out of doors.”

  She regretted the quick heat in her cheeks but couldn’t control it. The sound of her own name almost shocked her. She stared down at her slim fingers. She needed a moment’s respite to marshal her thoughts. There was a streak of hard ruthlessness in Hugh Fraser which she couldn’t yet cope with. He would be used to working on huge projects abroad, and his staff would be hand-picked, highly geared and versatile. Any order he gave would be carried out with absolute efficiency. She doubted whether she could ever match up.

  He regarded her still face obliquely with a negligent shrug of his powerful shoulders. “And what conclusions have you arrived at in that beautiful head of yours, dear Miss Winton?”

  Anger leapt like a flame. He was a mocking devil, and he did it with such fine carelessness! Every nerve inside her tightened. She tried to speak evenly.

  “I was hoping that we can work together amiably, Mr. Fraser.”

  His eyes glinted with sudden amusement. “I’m sure we shall, Miss Winton. Providing you measure up to my requirements, I certainly won’t complain.”

  “Have no fear, I will.” Even if it kills me, her expression rounded off, as she stared at his dark profile with helpless intensity.

  She couldn’t remember being so aware of a man before. Everything about him, the imperious tilt of his head, the breadth of his shoulders, the deep cleft of his chin was vibrantly male. It was inevitable that he should antagonize women, yet in a curious fashion her eyes kept returning to him as they drove quickly along the lonely island road.

  He pointed out various landmarks briefly as they passed them. There was the air-strip about a mile and a half from Salen. “It’s useful,” he said smoothly, “when I have to fly to London. Jill uses it quite a lot.”

  But he whipped her quickly through Salen itself, leaving her with only a hasty impression of houses and hotels huddled side by side in rather a beautiful village. She was aware of his sudden impatience to be on, ill-concealed by the pressure of his foot on the accelerator.

  Once through Salen the road cut across the island to the west coast, and in the late afternoon they reached Lochgoil. Sara always remembered her first glimpse of the castle, lying as it did on the edge of the sea, its massive stone bastions seeming a part of the landscape. Built of pink granite and creamy sandstone, it stood on the cliff-top, four-square to the winds, the westering sun turning to gold its turrets and towers.

  He glanced at her startled face. “Does such a place scare you, Miss Winton? Perhaps I should have warned you what to expect?”

  She looked away so that he could only see the pure curve of her cheek. “I don’t scare easily,” she murmured quietly.

  “Don’t you?” His voice held the slightest hint of menace, while his eyes appraised her coolly, clearly with mock exasperation. “Do you always find it necessary to double up like a hedgehog? You’re about as prickly as one too.”

  “Self-defence, Mr. Fraser. Although I resent the comparison.” She turned to look at him, and as quickly looked away. His eyes were mocking, totally out of sympathy. Her heart had flooded with admiration at the sight of his castle. She might have confessed to love at first sight, but not now.

  He picked up her sharp retort and tacked on casually, “Or a love affair that went wrong, Miss Winton? The symptoms are familiar enough to be recognizable, including the defence mechanism.”

  She said fiercely in undertone, “You couldn’t be more completely wrong.”

  “I’ve yet to find myself completely wrong about anything,” he replied with extreme dryness.

  Stung, she flashed back at him, “That has nothing at all to do with it!”

  “It could have,” he taunted her. “And whoever it was who left that intriguing hint of pathos in your face certainly made a good job of it.”

  Her heart jumped. She still couldn’t talk about her parents without risking her somewhat precarious self-control, and she didn’t want him to guess. Better that he should think what he was thinking than know the truth. She didn’t want his commiseration. She only wanted to forget.

  “I suggest we call a truce, Miss Winton.” He glanced at her with the hint of a smile. “You have a sharp tongue when provoked.”

  He negotiated a huge stone archway with the practiced twist of familiarity, driving into a wide paved courtyard. He was obviously unperturbed, but she still felt as taut as stretched wire.

  Thankfully she realized they had arrived. Now, perhaps, she could escape him while she marshalled her thoughts. He had said, a short time ago, that he regretted not having interviewed her himself, but never again, she vowed, would she take a job without first meeting her future employer. Although she doubted if many would be as unconventional as Hugh Fraser!

  A funny little nerve jumped in the base of her throat, and his eyes rested on it briefly as they drew up. “If you’re quite ready,” he said, as she hesitated nervously, “perhaps you would like to come and meet Biddy. You’ll probably approve of her more than you do me.”

  “Of course,” she smiled at him, portraying a coolness she didn’t feel, trying to match his satire but failing hopelessly.

  His right eyebrow rose slightly and she flushed hotly, making his triumph complete as they walked silently across the flagstones into the house.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Determined that he shouldn’t upset her any further, Sara followed Hugh Fraser briskly into the castle. She walked behind him down a long barrel-vaulted ground-floor corridor, through a door which opened straight into a great square hall with a stone-flagged floor. On the floor of the hall lay some rugs, while against the walls pieces of tapestry hung above high carved chests. On one of these chests stood a huge jug of tall yellow tulips, their bright colour glowing through the dim light from the narrow windows. At one end a wheel stair contained within the thickness of the wall rose to the floor above. This was covered by a thick red carpet.

  “Welcome to Lochgoil,” Hugh Fraser murmured smoothly behind her.

  She turned to look at him, not speaking, and he noticed her startled expression. “You’ll soon get used to it,” he added, smiling. “It seems big, but once you can find your way around you soon forget about the size. We’re really very comfortable, you’ll find.”

  “Of course,” she replied quickly
, finding her voice as he took her arm and drew her firmly over the flagstones, up the stone staircase to the hall on the first floor.

  Sara felt immediately better. Here three high windows set in deep round-arched embrasures gave more than adequate light and rapidly dispersed the gloomy impression of the entrance chamber. In a spacious fireplace, wide and deep, with decorated aumbries in its jambs, a fragrant log fire burnt cheerfully. Around this hall carved oaken doors obviously led to living rooms, while again, at the farthermost end, another staircase twisted upwards.

  “We live mostly on this floor and the next.” He released her tense arm with an amused lift of dark eyebrows, but before she could reply one of the doors across the hall opened and a small neat-looking woman emerged from what was evidently the kitchen. “Ah, here comes Biddy,” he said, with what to Sara’s sensitive ears seemed almost like a sigh of relief.

  She turned as Biddy walked towards her. Biddy was certainly small, but she possessed a rather grim dignity which seemed to give her height. She had the unmistakable air of a woman used to giving orders and being obeyed, yet her face held a definite kindness. Sara liked her at once.

  She held out her hand and Biddy took it as Hugh introduced them.

  “I hope you will find the castle to your liking, miss,” she said politely, her keen eyes on Sara’s flushed cheeks. “I’ll ring for Katie to take you to your room. I expect you’re tired after your journey.” Her hand went out to a bell in the wall without waiting for Sara to reply.