Anna squeezed his arm in warning.
He cleared his throat. “They’re sorta like classical music and opera, an acquired taste.”
“Aye, maybe you’re right. You have to be a native of Scotland to truly appreciate them. You’ll hear a lot of pipe music tonight, and I daresay some puirt-a-beul, too.”
“You’ve totally lost me, Morag. Poor-a-beel…?”
“‘Poorsht-a-beel’,” Anna enunciated. “Highland mouth music.”
The large drawing room, which ran the entire length of the west wing, had been transformed into a ballroom. Two wide bay windows, draped with faded gold silk curtains, lay on either side of full height glass doors, and overlooked the sweeping front lawn. The hardwood floor once a deep red, had faded to a soft pink. Damp patches showed on the ornate stuccoed ceiling, and the chandeliers appeared to be missing some of their crystals. Tapestries, threadbare and faded like the curtains, hung on the walls. Tables had been placed at one end, leaving the rest of the room free for dancing.
The room was two-thirds full when they entered. Raucous laughter filled the air.
“Wow!” Luke glanced around the room and gestured at the portraits. “Get a load of all those ugly mugs. Must be his ancestors.”
“You’re not here to admire the antiques,” Anna said as the band, specially hired from Glasgow, started tuning up at the far end of the room. She took Luke’s hand, and pulled him along behind her as the first chords of an eightsome reel filled the room.
“Come on,” she said, taking her place among the dancers already forming a circle on the floor.
“Hey, wait a minute! I said nothing about dancing.”
“Don’t be such a bore. A reel is easy. Any idiot can do it.”
“Not this idiot. Anna!” His refusal fell on deaf ears. Anna tugged him to the left, then to the right in time to the music. With her shouts of ‘right,’ ‘left,’ ‘give me your hand,’ and general words of encouragement, she ensured he fumbled his way through to the end.
As the last notes died away, a breathless and flushed Anna slipped her arm in his.
“There, that wasn’t too bad, was it?”
“It depends on your definition of bad. I think I’m going to have a heart attack. I need a drink. A great big one.”
Anna laughed as he snagged two glasses of wine from a passing waiter, and handed one to her.
“Slainte!”
“Slainte mhath,” she said, taking a sip. “A couple more of these and you’ll soon get the hang of things. Want to sit this one out?”
“Yes, and the next, and the next—”
Anna laughed. “Sorry, but I didn’t go to all this trouble to be a wallflower. If it makes you feel happier, we can wait until the band plays something more sedate for the older generation.”
Luke’s left eyebrow arched a fraction. “I may be a little older than you, but I’ve got loads of stamina.”
“Yes, I know, darling,” giving his ear a playful nip. “You can keep it up all night.”
“Anna, behave!” he warned, turning round to make sure no one was within earshot.
“Listen, that’s the opening bar of the Gay Gordons. It’s easy.”
“None of this shit is easy.”
“This one is.” Anna took his glass from his hand and led him back to the dance floor. “Even you could do this fully anaesthetised.”
“In that case,” he sighed. “Bring on the ether—”
Chapter Twenty-Three
From the edge of the dance floor Laird Alistair Grant, resplendent in full Highland dress, watched Anna thread in and out of the couples in her set. Her white dress swirled about her ankles. He knew the sound of her laughter, although he couldn’t hear it, he felt it. It singed him. He didn’t normally go for redheads; blondes were more his taste, but even in her youth, she had possessed a certain something. Under different circumstances, he might have found her appealing.
“I see you invited the MacDonald woman,” Mac said, with a nod.
“That’s my business. ” Alistair frowned. “What are you doing in here? I specifically asked you to supervise the parking arrangements.”
“I don’t see why I can’t join in the party. I put on me suit, see?” He tugged on the oversized lapels. The outfit was light brown polyester double knit, probably stolen from some thrift shop. It wouldn’t have been fashionable in the mid-seventies. Alistair winced.
“You’re quite dapper,” Alistair said, “better than the orange Day Glo thing you wore while parking cars.”
Mac sniffed. “All the other estate employees are here. Folk would think it odd if your trusted factor was excluded. Besides, you gave me a shit job to do. I’ll get you for that.”
“I’m sure you will. Go easy on the whisky, MacKinnon. I don’t want you getting drunk tonight, of all nights.”
“Don’t look down your nose at me, your Lairdship. I’m just as good as this lot, if not better. You’re planning something. I can see it in your face.”
“Nothing that concerns you. Just a charm offensive, that’s all. Now if you’ll excuse me,” Alistair said, fingering his lace jabot. “I think it’s time I asked the lovely lady to dance.”
Anna spotted the proud figure of Alistair Grant walking purposely toward her. She scanned the crowded room for Luke and Morag, but they were nowhere in sight.
“Bother,” she mumbled, and pasted on what she hoped was a welcoming smile.
“Anna, my dear,” Alistair said and kissed her cheek. “You look especially lovely tonight.”
“Thank you. And thank you for the invitation.”
“You’re welcome.” A smile tipped the corner of his mouth. He leaned closer and whispered in her ear. “I’ll let you into a secret. I had an ulterior motive in asking you to come this evening.”
An unwelcome blush crept into her cheeks. “Oh? And what might that be?”
“I wanted to spend the whole evening dancing with you.”
“That’s rather unfair to the other ladies present.”
“Perhaps, but as most of them are middle-aged married women, I daresay they won’t mind. Besides, none are as pretty as you. Ah, a waltz. I think this dance is mine.” He put his arm around her waist and led her on to the dance floor.
“Now tell me, how are you settling back into village life?”
“I’m getting used to the slower pace. There are certain things I miss, such as the big grocery stores. Mrs. McCloud does her best, but it’s not like shopping at Tesco.”
“I wouldn’t know about that. I leave such tedious details to my housekeeper. Surely, you miss the theatre and restaurants. My favourite is still that little Italian on Leith Walk, Villa Rugiada, although I’m also rather fond of Etienne’s, the new French Bistro at the side of the Caledonian Hotel.”
“I’ve never been to either,” Anna replied, remembering how little her lecturer’s salary afforded her after she paid rent.
“No matter. A beautiful young woman like you should be treated to such luxuries. You never know, I may be the one to take you.”
“I’m perfectly happy with what the hotel serves, Alistair.”
He snorted. “I wouldn’t exactly call it haute cuisine. Dog food, perhaps—”
“Alistair, you are such a snob.”
“No, my dear, I’m not. However, I do like to be able to wine and dine a beautiful woman in style, rather than in the public bar of a two star hotel.”
“Which happens to be your two-star hotel, Alistair, or have you forgotten?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Then why don’t you upgrade the restaurant to Michelin Star standard?”
“You know, I’ve never thought about that. What a good idea. I knew I’d made a wise decision in renewing our friendship. Have you thought any more about my invitation to have dinner with me?”
Anna thought about his offer for a stanza. “Oh, dear, how can I say this without offending you? It’s very kind of you to ask me again, but no.”
“I see.
Are you sure I can’t change your mind?” He bent and kissed the soft skin between her neck and shoulders.
Anna pulled back. She forced a superficial smile. “Alistair, please don’t do that. It’s not...it’s not appropriate.”
Aware that Malcolm Fraser and his wife were beginning to take an interest in them, Alistair steered her into the rhythm of the waltz once more.
“Anna, darling, think carefully before you turn me down. I’m offering you a life of luxury, this house and a villa for the season on the Riviera. That’s much more than the average man in the street can give you.”
“Now you’re being conceited, Alistair, and that’s a trait I dislike in any man. Besides, you’re forgetting the two most important things in any relationship.”
“I assume you’re talking about love and trust.”
“Yes. I am. Don’t you want that?”
“Perhaps. But men in my position often have other things to consider when choosing a wife.”
Wife? The word shook her. “You don’t know me. I’m not the girl I was twelve years ago.”
“I realize that, my dear. You’re sufficiently intelligent to see that a relationship such as I’m proposing could work.”
“Look, Alistair, you’re a good catch for the right woman. I’m not her. You need someone of your own social standing, someone who moves in the same circles as you. Not a lowly unemployed university lecturer.”
“I think that’s for me to determine. And I happen to have determined that I want you.”
Perspiration collected on her forehead. “Alistair, I’ve said all I’m going to on the subject. No matter how hard you try to persuade me, the answer is still no. Listen, the music has stopped. The orchestra is taking a break. I think it’s a good time for you too, don’t you agree? Thanks for the dance. It was nice seeing you again.” She swirled away and left the dance floor.
Alistair caught her by the elbow.
“Now, now, Anna. Please hear me. I have real feelings for you. Deep feelings. Love and trust. I’ve waited years to see you again. Don’t push me aside so easily.”
“I’m not pushing you aside, Alistair. I would like to stay friends. Just friends.”
“I can’t be just friends, Anna. Let’s talk it over away from all this. I have a bottle of champagne chilling in my study. No one will notice if we slip away for an hour.”
“Ouch! You’re hurting my arm. If you don’t let go of my arm this instant, I’ll…I’ll stamp on your foot! For the last time, Let. Me. Go!” She pushed him away from her.
Anna stormed off. He followed.
Mackenzie MacKinnon leaned against the corner of the bar nursing a large whisky, his second of the evening, and watched the interplay between his employer and the redhead. He could tell from her body language that whatever the Laird had said hadn’t gone down well. He swigged down the contents of his glass and signalled the barmaid for a refill.
While he waited for his drink, he scanned the room for the American. It took him a moment or two, but eventually he spotted him on the far side of the dance floor talking to some old biddy with a feather in her hair.
There was something about the guy that set his teeth on edge. He couldn’t say what it was, but instinct told him the guy was trouble. For the moment at least, he was safely occupied.
He pulled out his cigarettes and felt in his jacket pocket for his matches.
“I’m sorry, sir, but you can’t smoke in here. You’ll have to go outside.” The barmaid placed a glass of whisky in front of him.
Mac nodded and put down his glass, then slipped out onto the terrace. He’d only taken a few drags when Grant and the redhead appeared in the doorway. He hastily stubbed the cigarette out lest the telltale glow from its tip gave his presence away, and quickly took cover behind a large statue. As he listened to their muted conversation, it didn't take him long to realize that prissy Ms MacDonald was none too happy with the Laird’s seduction technique. Hah! Bloody hah! It served the stuck up tosser right for thinking she would be interested in the likes of him.
He backed away from the statue, being careful not to make any noise, and walked quickly across the lawn to the front of the house, re-entering the grand drawing room a few moments later.
At least he could handle things his way from now on, and now was the perfect time to show the Laird just who was boss.
He went straight to the bar.
“A double malt. And don’t forget the ice.”
“I’m sorry, but you’ve already had your quota,” said the barman.
“What are you talking about man? Give me that drink.”
“I can’t. The Laird told all the staff you were to have no more than two glasses.”
“Well, the Laird’s not here, is he? Now fill my damn glass before I come round there and ring your scrawny neck!”
“Yes—yes, sir.” The barman paled, and quickly re-filled the glass.
Mac leaned against the bar and scanned the dance floor. Morag McInnes was dancing with Angus Murray. He caught her eye and she turned away quickly, but not before she looked at him as if he’d slithered out from under a stone. He laughed and tossed down his drink.
He slammed his glass down on the bar. “Fill it again, laddie.”
“But, sir, I’ll lose my job.”
“No you won’t. I’m the factor here, and I give the orders. Now, pass me the damn bottle and the ice.”
The barman did as he was told and pushed the ice bucket toward him, the ice pick still inside. Mac stared at it, a plan forming in his mind. He swirled his glass. It might just work. He tossed back his drink, poured another, and drank it. He weaved his way across the floor towards the exit, pushing the dancers out of his way as he went.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Luke’s dark and brooding eyes followed Anna round the room as she danced with the tall man in Highland dress. While his expression was unreadable, his emotions were beating the hell out of each other. Deep inside his chest, the little green warrior was hard at work. His fists clenched and unclenched as his temper flared. He was about to cut in on Anna and her Highlander, when an elderly woman, with an enormous feather pinned in her hair, stopped him.
“Now, there’s a bonny couple,” she nodded in Anna’s direction. “I met my husband at the village ceilidh. We were married exactly one year later. I was eighteen and he was twenty-five, and we’ve never spent a night apart since. It’s our fortieth anniversary next month.”
“Congratulations,” Luke said, and left her still talking about who-knew-what. He skirted the edge of the ballroom until he found a better vantage point. He stood with his hands in his pockets, observing the interchange between Anna and her partner. She was smiling and laughing, and obviously enjoying herself. His temper went from simmering to red-hot. Suddenly, her expression and body language changed. When she abruptly stopped dancing, he decided that was his cue to intervene. He strode purposely across the room, reaching them just as they stepped though the French windows onto the terrace.
“Anna, honey, are you all right?” Luke gave her companion an icy stare.
“Yes,” she said, with a grateful smile. “I was just saying to Alistair that I needed to sit down and cool off. It’s rather hot in the ballroom.”
“In that case, allow me to escort you outside.”
Annoyed at the untimely intrusion, Alistair released his hold on Anna’s elbow and nodded at the other man.
“Are you going to introduce me to your friend, Anna?”
“Alistair, this is Luke Tallantyre from Cape Cod. Luke is staying with me for a while.”
“How do you do? Grant, Alistair Grant of Killilan.” His distinguished features settled into an expression of contempt.
“Nice to meet you. Wonderful place you have, although the upkeep must be hell on the wallet.”
“Not if the well is deep. What brings you to Scotland, Mr. Tallantyre, business or pleasure? Or something else?”
“Pleasure, Mr. Grant, pleasure. Now, if you’ll
excuse us, I’ll take Anna for some fresh air.”
“Of course, don’t let me detain you. It’s about time I resumed my duties as host. I don’t want my tenants complaining. This is, after all, for their benefit.” He strode away stiffly.
Anna felt Alistair’s sharp eyes boring into her.
“What a phony! I say, I say, old chap!” Luke mocked. “Who does he think he is, the King of Scotland?”
“Unfortunately, Scotland doesn’t have a monarch, although many of us wish it did,” Anna replied coldly. “Alistair happens to have the benefit of a very good education.”
“So do you, but you don’t talk like a jerk. Anyway, what was that all about?” He pulled her round to face him. “Do you two have a history or something?”
Anna closed her eyes, and wished with all her soul to be at home with the dogs. “Not in the way you mean. We’re old friends, that’s all.”
“Friends, eh? You two look at lot closer than that.”
She let the comment go and rested her hand on his chest. “Luke, what’s got into you? I’ve told you. Alistair is an old friend, nothing more, nothing less. We’ve known each other since we were teenagers. Besides, he invited us here. Did you expect me to be rude to him?”
“No. But I want to know why the pompous ass was hassling you.”
She glared at him. His tone infuriated her. “You were watching me?”
“Kind of unavoidable. You two made a real spectacle of yourselves on the dance floor, and afterwards.”
“It was just a dance, something men and women do occasionally. You’re a stranger in the village. You don’t understand the small community mentality. You can’t just stroll in here and expect to tell us how to behave.”
“Perhaps not. I’m the guy who makes love to you every night. Does that count for anything? Ever think you might be stomping on my feelings?”
“I wasn’t stomping on your feelings. I was being polite to our host. And if you must know, Alistair asked me out to dinner for old time’s sake.”
“Well, I hope you said no.”
The House on the Shore Page 18
