Bride of Alaine

by Rose Burghley

  “I see,” Amanda said, very quietly.

  Judy glanced at her rather sharply, looked away, yawned, stretched herself, and made for the door.

  “So long as you do see,” she said, with a certain bluntness in her tone. “The engagement is an established fact. It’s only the announcement that is being withheld!”

  CHAPTER XIII

  AS soon as Judy had left her room Amanda got up and dressed. She did not perfectly understand why she had to move about and do something that demanded at least partial concentration, but she did know that she couldn’t simply lie there in bed until Jean brought her tea.

  The thought of Jean and her tea was vaguely at the back of her mind. Jean would sense that something was wrong as soon as she saw her face once the curtains were drawn, and for all her hard-baked exterior Jean was a very intuitive person and she understood quickly when something was not as it should be. To go down into the kitchen and help Jean with the breakfast was impossible. Even Duncan might be struck by the numb look of disaster in her face, and that was a situation that had to be avoided. Duncan and Jean, with their well-developed instincts for impending trouble, were two people she could face later in the day, but not at such an early hour in the morning.

  So she dressed swiftly and let herself out of the house. The sun was by this time well up and warming the world, and the whole of the island of Ure seemed to swim in a delicate haze of heat. There was the smell of warm earth and flower scents floating on a barely detectable breath of air, with a chorus of birdsong like sweet background music.

  Amanda had no clear idea of where she was going, but she thought at first that she would merely hide herself away in some corner of the garden. Then she remembered that Duncan was digging potatoes that morning, and he might catch sight of her and call out. So she opened the wicket gate that led into the wood—or the forest, as she often thought of it, surrounding the Tower of Ure—and started to walk swiftly away along the path.

  She must have walked for half a mile before she practically collided with a tree-trunk, and realised at the same time that someone was following her. She drew back from the tree, returned to the path, and was in the act of plunging forward once more when a voice called to her peremptorily to stop, and someone came crashing through the undergrowth.

  Alaine, in a kilt and tweed jacket, freshly bathed and shaved, although he had obviously not been to bed, placed himself determinedly in her path and regarded her in astonishment.

  “And where do you think you’re going to at this hour?” he asked. He consulted his watch. “It’s a quarter to seven. Do you normally go for walks as early as this?”

  She stared at him like a hunted thing, almost prepared to make her way past him and run if he threatened pursuit.

  “Not—not normally,” she answered.

  “Then why are you doing so this morning?”

  He was frowning almost blackly, and his eyes were alert.

  She bit her lip and felt indignant all at once. He could stay out all night, and no one must question him because he was the Lord of Ure—he was Urquhart, owner of the tallest tower for miles around but she was only Amanda Wells, an impoverished friend of the girl he was going to marry, and it didn’t matter if she didn’t want to be questioned. He could persecute her just the same!

  She bit her lip until it started to bleed, and Alaine noticed and frowned as if his black brows would actually knit themselves together.

  “Couldn’t you sleep?” he asked, almost curtly.

  “Not very well.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, to begin with” indignation making her quiet eyes snap, “we stayed up rather late last night wondering what had happened to you and Judy, and I suppose when I finally went to bed I was too tired to sleep. In any case,” and she made to thrust past him, “I don’t have to answer questions at this early hour, and it’s nothing to do with you if I choose to walk in the woods—except that they’re your woods!” with a biting inflection—“while other people choose to lie in bed. Instead of pestering me you should let Miss Urquhart know that you’re back. She was rather worried about you!”

  “My aunt knows I’m back.” He grasped her by her arm, and his fingers bruised her a little. “I’m sorry that yesterday was such a fiasco, but it’s not my fault that we’re not on the telephone here, and I’d have got a message through to you if I could.” His eyes gleamed all at once with a queer sort of satisfaction. “So you were worried about me, were you? Or was it Judy you were worried about?”

  “I—”

  “Did you wonder whether there had been an accident?” he said softly.

  “We all wondered.”

  “Did you feel any great concern ... because we were not back?”

  She put back her head and regarded him almost challengingly.

  “Well, of course. I was concerned because your aunt was concerned!”

  “But not, when night came on, because you thought I might be lying under the wreckage of a car, or at the bottom of the loch—although in Geordie’s flat boat it would be extremely difficult to suffer the fate of a shipwrecked mariner and end up cultivating the acquaintance of mermaids at the bottom of Urquhart Water!” He gripped her arm ruthlessly. “You did think something had happened, didn’t you?”

  She wrenched away her arm.

  “I tell you we all were afraid something had happened.”

  “But it kept you wakeful and you’re heavy-eyed this morning, and you also look as if something has caught you a glancing blow between the eyes and you’re not quite sure what you’re doing, or why you’re doing it. Amanda,” very softly, “had you forgotten about today? I made you promise that you’d let me show you a part of my island that you’ve never seen before, and you must have known I’d be back in good time to set off with you. It was an important appointment!” His voice was urgent. “Amanda, you realised that, didn’t you?”

  She felt a sensation of shock, and stared at him. “And what about ... Judy?” she asked.

  “Judy?” He sounded impatient. “Why bring Judy into it? She’s back, and I don’t think yesterday’s series of disasters really upset her. She’s probably gone straight to bed and will be as fit as a fiddle when she gets up. I told her to ask Jean to see that she wasn’t disturbed all day, and to take her meals up to her.”

  “Yesterday’s series of disasters?” Amanda echoed thinly.

  Alaine nodded.

  “First the car wouldn’t start when we got to the mainland yesterday, and we had to hang about until long after lunch before it was ready for the road. And even after that it behaved badly, and we had to stop at a garage for a further overhaul. Judy got bored and wandered off by herself, and I stayed with the car. By the time I picked her up it had started to rain, and there didn’t seem much point in going farther, so we returned to the Three Goats and would have been back here in good time for dinner but for the fact that Geordie’s boat seized up and also refused to start. There are usually two or three other boats at the jetty, but some holiday-makers had taken them out on hire and apparently they ran into difficulties. Anyway, the boats were not returned for hours, and by that time I’d decided to book a couple of rooms at the inn for the night. We had dinner, went to bed early—I think Judy was a bit upset because our day had been practically ruined—and I left instructions for us to be called as soon as the boat was ready. It was ready about half-past five, and although I’m afraid it spoiled your friend’s beauty sleep we were back here on the island by a quarter to six. Since then I’ve been up to see Aunt Grace and was desperately anxious to see you. I watched you come out of the house, and I followed you.”

  “And you didn’t lunch at a romantic inn yesterday, and spend the night sitting in the car because you’d run out of petrol?” Amanda asked, as if she was repeating some sort of a lesson.

  “We certainly did not!”

  “Or go for a long walk and see some wonderful scenery? And get back to the Three Goats just as the cocks were crowing?”


  He frowned.

  “What is this? I’ve already told you what we did, and they were none of them the kind of things I’d wish to repeat. I’m sorry your friend had such a dismal day, because she’s going back to Australia quite soon—or so I understand—and wanted to store up a few impressions to take with her. There’s an old house of the Macrae family that we were making for, and as her ancestors once lived there it was perfectly understandable that she should wish to see it. Another day I’ll take her there, but I think you’d better come along, too... and then you’ll be able to check up on our movements,” with sudden dryness. “You seem to have some idea that yesterday was a howling success, and a stolen treat for both of us. I give you my word it was nothing of the kind.”

  Amanda nodded.

  “I believe you,” she said.

  Alaine regarded her with disapproval.

  “That’s very kind of you,” he said, with a distinct touch of hauteur. “We Urquharts are not addicted to telling lies, and we have a particular dislike of being looked upon as distorters of the truth, if not actually liars! What I have just told you is neither more, nor less, than the truth. And if you don’t choose to believe me, well ... it’s too bad,” and he drew back from her stiffly.

  But Amanda’s mood had changed, and by this time even her eyes had brightened a little. She assured him with a kind of fervour that mystified him even more than her disinclination to believe him that she was quite sure he was telling the truth, only there were still one or two things that puzzled her. For instance, hadn’t he forgotten something rather important that happened the day before?

  “Important?”

  He was evidently trying to rack his brains, and he was also angry.

  “I’ve already given you a potted history of what happened yesterday.”

  “Yes, yes.” She had no wish to incense him still further, and since Judy had lied about a good many things she could have lied about the major event of the day. But this was hardly the moment to continue with her probing. It was a little like impertinence if he really wished to keep the engagement secret, but on the other hand he looked so genuinely bewildered that Amanda’s sluggish pulses were beginning to leap.

  It was hardly likely that Judy would have invented the story of the engagement, and all that talk about engagement rings and announcements to be sent to the newspapers ... that would have been sailing a little too close to the wind, and highly dangerous. But, all the same, something was wrong. Alaine did not look like a man who had sealed the whole of his future only the day before, and he did not talk like one. He wasn’t trying to conceal something. He wanted something explained to him.

  “Look here,” he said, taking her by the arm again and looking at her as if a kind of enlightenment had dawned, and he suspected something serious, “I don’t know what you’re trying to get at, but I’ve a kind of feeling we’re a little mixed up, you and I. By the way, yesterday’s arrangement was not for before breakfast, but unless you’re feeling terribly hungry shall we set off now? It won’t take us very long, and I hardly feel like facing the rest in the dining-room until I’ve had a discussion with you. What do you say?”

  She looked around her at the shining morning, the beauty of the new day. All at once it was all very, very beautiful, and a kind of nightmare was receding ... just a little.

  “But you must be tired,” she said, feeling she ought to raise some objection. “I mean, you couldn’t have had a very restful night last night.”

  “Did you?” he asked, his sleek head a little on one side.

  “No,” she admitted, and looked away from him swiftly.

  He smiled suddenly, as if that was a piece of information that pleased him.

  “Well then, we’re neither of us in a fit condition to face the rest in the dining-room. We can have breakfast when we return ... a long and leisurely breakfast. The climb to the summit will enable us to work up an appetite.”

  “Are we going to climb to the summit?”

  “If you feel up to it?”

  She nodded.

  “It’s a lovely morning,” she said a little aimlessly.

  Alaine smiled ... and it was a faintly triumphant smile this time. He put an arm gently across the back of her shoulders and urged her gently forward.

  “Then lead on, little one,. Just keep going along the path ahead, and I’ll be right behind you. I’ll see that you don’t take the wrong turning!”

  CHAPTER XIV

  THE sun was hot by the time they emerged from the lower woods and could look out over the island. Considering there was only one house of any size on Ure it was fairly extensive, but as Alaine explained as they climbed there had once been quite a village on Ure, and it even had its own fishing industry, but that was in days gone by. To-day it was a happy hunting ground for wild life, and quite honestly, he admitted, that was the way he preferred it.

  He stood leaning against a tree-trunk once they were nearer the summit, and Amanda sat on the mossy ground at his feet. She sat with her slim arms wrapped about her drawn-up knees, and already there was brilliant colour in her cheeks, and her eyes were bright. You couldn’t do this exciting climb, with Alaine’s hand underneath her elbow helping her over the awkward bits, and remain sunk in a morass of despair.

  Besides ... And now she knew she was not sunk in a morass of despair at all. The man beside her, with whom she was in love, and for whom she felt a profound admiration as she lifted her eyes to him and saw what a lean and elegant figure he made leaning against the tree-trunk, his dark eyes gleaming with appreciation as he let them stray over the whole of his domain, was behaving in the most extraordinary manner if only yesterday he had planned marriage with a girl whom he seemed to think would be shortly returning to her native land ... and her sheep! Amanda would have been prepared to swear that no thought of her lingered in his mind as he produced a pipe from his sporran and proceeded to light it.

  A detectable smell of fragrant tobacco was soon floating on the wind ... and the higher up they climbed the more air there was, and the fresher the atmosphere became, pine-scented and resinous.

  Alaine indicated the forest trees with his pipe. There were larch and juniper as well as pine, and the one they had paused to rest under was an ancient rowan.

  “Miss Greystoke thought it would be a good idea if I cut some of these down,” he said. “Your friend thinks I ought to cut the whole lot down.”

  “You mean Judy?”

  “Who else?” He looked down into her clear, golden-brown eyes. “Do you know, she has a plan for modernising Ure,? She is most anxious for me to sell her the place. I think she’s rather got hold of the idea that, because I’m a bit neglectful of everything and the Tower itself looks as if it will tumble into the loch one of these fine days, I’m as poor as a church mouse. I’m not, you know,” regarding her strangely.

  Amanda’s colour grew. She was wearing a pink linen dress with a white cardigan over it, and the pink and white and gold and brown of her was a little like the pink and white and gold and brown of the heather and the bracken that surrounded her on all sides.

  “That’s your affair, isn’t it?” she said, as if it had never occurred to her that he was as poor as a church mouse. “I mean,” bending to examine a blade of grass, “it’s nothing to do with anyone else whether you’re poor or not.”

  “But I’ve just told you I’m not poor!”

  “I know.” She looked up at him swiftly, and then away. He slid down on to the fragrant ground beside her, and within a few inches of her he studied her quizzically. “You indicated to me yesterday that there was no need for me to help Jean ... except that it’s a little difficult to get girls to work on the island.”

  “It has made me simply furious seeing you waiting on people like my aunt and Miss Greystoke.”

  “But I don’t mind waiting on your aunt, and Miss Greystoke is a guest.”

  “So are you.”

  “No, not really.”

  “What are you, then?”<
br />
  She laced and interlaced her fingers about her knees. “I came here with Judy, and as she’s paying all my expenses it’s my job to do things for her ... and I rather gathered that you liked having Judy staying here!”

  “So we’ve got around to it at last!” He removed her hands from her knees and held them strongly in his , brown clasp. “Judy, Judy, Judy! Did you honestly think I was attracted by all those sheep of hers?”

  “I thought you were attracted by ... Judy herself.”

  “And if I tell you that I’m not in the least interested in Judy—never have been, never will be, and certainly don’t want to be, because I think she’s rather a tiresome young woman to have around all the time—will you believe me?” He was grasping her hands tightly, and bending very definitely over her. “Don’t you know who I’m interested in, Amanda?” He smiled crookedly. “Oh, I know I rather encouraged you to think I was looking for an heiress to marry, but that was because you seemed to have arrived at that conclusion in any case, and it annoyed me. You had no right, just because you found me living amidst somewhat primitive conditions—which, incidentally, I like to do for a short while each year—to imagine I’d do anything to escape from them, even look with favourable eyes upon a self-centred piece like your friend Judy.”

  Amanda, her heart beating so fast it was threatening to choke her, gazed at him with parted lips. Now was the moment for her to tell him what Judy had said to her only that morning. But she couldn’t do so. For one thing, it was so obviously a fabrication on Judy’s part—possibly because she wished to warn Amanda off her preserves, and still believed that with time and persistence she could capture Alaine—that it would merely make Judy’s position impossible at Urquhart Tower once the truth was revealed. And for another, it would be like accusing Alaine of double-dealing ... and he was too proud to let that pass without doing something about it. And as Amanda was the one who was levelling the accusation, she was the one on whom he would vent his displeasure, if she was so unwise as to provoke him afresh. And she knew that under no circumstances could she do that.