From Back Cover…
The disagreeable Leon Casson, Director of Operations on a huge Shetland oil rig, hadn't wanted Catriona Dunross as his secretary— he would have preferred a man— and she had only taken the job because family commitments had forced her hand; but there they were, stuck with each other. And getting to know him better didn't give her any better an opinion of him! So it was particularly unfortunate that Catriona found herself having to pretend Leon was her fiancé— and the whole thing backfired when to her dismay he took her up on it!
Rapture of the Deep
by
Margaret Rome
CHAPTER ONE
THE hush that had fallen over the darkly furnished book-crammed study occupied by the Head of the Department of Sciences in a noted Scottish university was redolent of shocked dismay. Catriona sat waiting with head bowed, studying the weave of her plaid skirt, fiercely determined to keep tears at bay.
'Why on earth are you doing this, girl?' Professor Sandwick's bushy eyebrows met in a frown when, after a second swift perusal of the letter she had placed upon his desk after he had left for home the previous evening, he sat back in his chair to concentrate his full, grave attention upon the slender, flaxen-haired girl with the quiet dignity of a Viking princess who had demonstrated from the first day of her arrival as an office junior a wealth of grit, tenacity and determination to succeed inherited from tough Shetland forebears. 'Did you seriously believe that after slinking into my study last night to deposit a letter of resignation on my desk you would not be called upon to offer a further, more comprehensive explanation? You have used the term "family commitments" to excuse your defection,' contemptuously he flicked a corner of her letter with a thumbnail, 'an expression often used not so many years ago by girls resigning because they were about to be married, or by married ladies anticipating the arrival of a baby. However, laws governing equal opportunities for women have disposed of the need for females to sacrifice their careers for the sake of family commitments, therefore if it is marriage you have in mind, Catriona, or even,' without a trace of compunction he shocked her bent head erect, 'if you should have suddenly discovered that you are pregnant, there is no need to over-react. Adequate leave can easily be arranged.'
She jumped to her feet, sparking a look of indignation at the Professor whom, in spite of an aloof, imperious attitude she had long since decided was cultivated specifically to keep rebellious students in order, she had always regarded as a friend, a father figure who, whenever he had sensed the homesickness that had often overwhelmed her during her first traumatic year of exile from her solitary island home, had ensured that so much work had been piled upon her desk that she had had little time to spare for feeling lonely or becoming prey to self-pity. The Professor of psychology had kept an experienced eye upon the sixteen-year-old junior whose isolated upbringing had made her too painfully shy to mix even with her own contemporaries and had prescribed and encouraged her to enrol upon a course of further education which, besides the obvious advantages to her career, had provided ample opportunity for her to become integrated into youthful society. His proud delight when eventually she had graduated from college having gained the highest distinction in the twin arts of shorthand and typing, commercial correspondence, office routine, English and two other languages had helped compensate a little for the absence of the parents she had never known.
'I strongly resent that suggestion, Professor!' she responded sharply, directing a flare of ice-green indignation across the width of his desk. 'During the years I've spent at this university I can't recall doing anything to justify your obviously low opinion of my morals. In fact,' to her chagrin her voice began to wobble, 'if I'd given the subject any thought, which needless to say I have not, I might have been inclined to favour the theory that a man such as yourself, a professor of psychology who's made a lifetime study of human and animal behaviour, wouldn't have much difficulty concluding that immorality is not one of my personal characteristics!'
'Just as I had imagined,' the Professor swiftly turned the tables. 'That any member of staff whose brilliance impressed her superior to such an extent that he did not hesitate to promote her from office junior to secretary to personal assistant, could believe that one sheet of paper containing a brief statement of intent would absolve her of the courtesy—no, dammit, the duty—of explaining to one who cares, to one who has striven in every way possible to help her achieve her ambitions, why she should suddenly and illogically have decided to abandon a promising career! I thought I'd become immune to the irresponsibility of modern youth,' his fist thumped down hard upon the surface of his desk, 'but this latest example of inconsistency has left me utterly appalled!'
'You surely don't imagine that I'm resigning from choice!' she cried out, prodded from her shell of reserve by the unjust accusation. 'Everything I've ever wanted from life is here in this university,' she stormed, oblivious to the fact that the Professor had relaxed in his chair, faintly smiling. 'I'm deeply aware of my good fortune, will never cease feeling grateful for the kindness and understanding you showed to a callow, lonely junior bewildered by the unfamiliar sights and sounds of a big city. I couldn't have gained half the diplomas I did without your help; thanks to you, I now have an interesting, well paid job situated conveniently close to Shetland and my one remaining relative! But now Aunt Hanna needs me, so I must return home,' she stressed, sea-green eyes dark with feeling. 'If you'd seen her as I did last week,' suddenly her voice dropped to a distressed whisper, 'body drooping with fatigue, hands furtively groping for items she obviously couldn't see; gnarled fingers stiff with rheumatism, and her dear brave face registering for the first time ever every one of her seventy-odd years, you would have realised as I did that she can't be left alone indefinitely.'
'Sit down, Catriona.' The deep, even tenor of his voice, his gentle glance and projected flow of sympathy were the first indications she received that she had been cleverly manipulated. She gaped, feeling suddenly foolish, then meekly capitulated.
'How dare you treat me like one of your patients!' she attempted a feeble jest, sinking down into a chair. 'I ought to have remembered that substitution of one emotional outlet for another is your favourite ploy.'
The Professor smiled. 'You Shetlanders are essentially individualists, a race of people who, probably because of your islands' comparative isolation, accept as your right a freedom many mainlanders envy, the freedom of being master of your own destiny, of being allowed to make your own decisions and to keep your own counsel. Always you prefer to toil alone against whatever adverse conditions you may encounter consequently, in order to prise out the truth, I was forced to break down the barrier of undemonstrative equanimity that is so ingrained in your character. Unfortunately, the most effective method I know of making a woman angry is to cast doubt upon her morals—am I forgiven…?'
Her deepening blush implied that he was not, nevertheless, to his relief, she responded with a brief nod.
'Good. Then now that we have disposed of ambiguities, let us examine all the relevant facts. As I understand it, Catriona, you feel duty bound to abandon your career in order to look after an aged aunt who shouldered the responsibilities of both your parents when you were orphaned as a child?'
'As an infant,' she reminded him, 'a baby less than one year old. But duty plays no part—'
'Oh, but it does, my dear,' the Professor interrupted smoothly. 'Because, at a time of desperate need, your aunt—who must have been well past middle age at the time and a spinster to boot— stepped into the breach and dedicated the rest of her life to your upbringing, you feel morally obliged to abandon your own plans and ambitions now that the position has been reversed and she has need of
you.'
'I suppose you're right,' she admitted soberly. 'The time has come when the debt I owe to my aunt must be repaid.'
'Hmm…' The Professor pressed the tips of his fingers together and studied them thoughtfully. 'But have you ever considered the possibility that your aunt might not view the situation in exactly the same light as yourself? Isn't it just possible,' he bent forward to urge, 'that your aunt, living in an isolated croft on a sparsely populated island and without any living creatures other than farm animals to call her own, might actually have welcomed the prospect of bringing a child into her home? Every human being, however self-sufficient, however much inclined to be unsociable, needs love, my dear. Knowing the depth of affection you feel for the old lady I have no doubt that, if asked, she would protest that the debt you feel is owing was repaid long ago.'
Catriona stared then, casting him a look of amazement, rose slowly to her feet. 'Are you actually suggesting that I should seize upon that theory as a salve to my conscience, an excuse to abandon my aunt in her hour of need?' The Professor jerked upright in his seat when, activated by anger, the girl known throughout the university for her calm self-possession, for a detachment so complete flirtatious male colleagues had been known to mutter accusations of frigidity, became suddenly alive—a transformation swift as the whipping of an expressionless mask from the face of a flushed, angry woman. 'You can have little concept of life as it's lived in my part of the world, Professor, or you wouldn't put forward the theory that a show of affection might be sufficient repayment for the years of backbreaking work, the scrimping and saving, the worry and doubt, that my aunt endured in order to ensure that I was kept clothed and fed and, most important of all in her eyes, that I had books, books and more books to study. We existed by being self-sufficient, living in a house that's no more than a stone built "but and ben" with a whitewashed hearth and an open fire fuelled with peat that my aunt cut and stacked herself. She also grew corn and hay, enough each year to fill the barn attached to the house; knitted jumpers from wool rooed from our own sheep, and cultivated vegetables in the kale yard, a piece of land sheltered from wind and weather by a stone dyke. I never went hungry—indeed, since leaving Shetland I don't believe I've tasted anything to compare with my aunt's home-grown potatoes; tender, heather-fed mutton and lamb; or the delicacy we enjoyed as a special treat, piltock fish caught by ourselves during long summer evenings, sufficient, when salted and dried, to keep us supplied all through the winter months. I was blessed with a happy childhood and a full and satisfying adolescence, Professor,' she declared so fiercely he was startled by the reminder that in the veins of all Shetlanders was mingled the blood of old Norse raiders; that she could probably claim kinship with a race that had bred the Valkyries—twelve maidens of Valhalla who, mounted on swift horses and holding drawn swords, had rushed into the mêlée of battle and selected those destined to die.
'… so please, never again suggest that a kiss on the cheek or even a sackful of money might be valid recompense for years of selfless devotion!'
'Phew!' The Professor looked shocked and for the first time in his life completely nonplussed, astounded by the realisation that the girl he had labelled a quiet, studious dreamer was in reality an enigma, a character as paradoxical as lava seething molten beneath a crust of frozen snow. 'Calm down, my dear,' he pleaded when eventually he found his voice, I'm sorry if I've angered you—believe me, this time it was not intentional.'
For a second it seemed that his apology had not registered, then much to his relief Catriona's furious sparkle drained as quickly as the tempestuous colour from her cheeks. Looking slightly dazed, she stepped backward, then when her hand touched wood she sank down into her chair.
'I'm sorry,' she gasped, 'I don't know what came over me. I know you're only trying to help, but believe me, there's nothing you can do. After exploring every avenue of hope I've been forced to conclude that I have no choice but to return home.'
'Yes, it would appear so, my dear.' Reluctantly he conceded the necessity of being deprived of the services of his valued assistant. 'But how will your aunt react to the news, do you suppose? Knowing how fiercely independent she is, how proud of your success, I suspect she may object.'
'I'm certain she will,' Catriona laughed shakily. 'Thinking up a convincing excuse for returning home has been my biggest headache. To pretend to have been fired would cause an almighty row; to use redundancy as an excuse would only result in her insisting on my searching for a position farther afield, for there are no employment opportunities in Shetland other than those connected with the oil companies.'
The Professor looked puzzled. 'Any firm would count itself fortunate to be given the opportunity of employing the services of such a highly qualified secretary as yourself, my dear, yet you appear to consider a job with the oil company an unlikely prospect?'
She shifted uncomfortably, embarrassed by the need to confess to having been secretly seeking alternative employment. 'I've already been turned down by the oil company in question,' she admitted stiffly, struggling to control a blush of half-mortified, half-guilty colour. 'Just a couple of weeks ago, Lion Oil Incorporated advertised a staff vacancy at its onshore terminal, based conveniently near to my home in Shetland. Applicants were invited to apply for the position of private secretary to their Director of Operations, and as the list of required qualifications seemed well within my range of capabilities I applied immediately, hardly able to believe the lucky coincidence that had made such a rare and suitable post available at precisely the right moment. Unfortunately,' her sigh echoed with puzzled regret, 'I received a reply almost by return of post informing me in brief, bald sentences that my letter had been received but that, regrettably, my name couldn't be included in the short list of suitable applicants.'
'Just that?' the Professor queried indignantly, 'No explanation as to why a highly skilled secretary, possessing the added advantage of having been raised on the island, should have her application turned down without even being granted the courtesy of an interview?'
'I'm afraid so,' Catriona shrugged, attempting to make light of deep disappointment, 'but no doubt they have a valid reason, after all, world-wide recession is forcing firms to make more and more valued employees redundant, consequently, the number of proficient secretaries willing to accept work in isolated, inhospitable regions must have risen considerably.'
'Exactly,' the Professor nodded, 'which is why I find the oil company's decision to pass over your application for employment so extraordinary. I have just recalled to mind a conversation I had with the chairman of one of the companies at present drilling for oil in the Shetland basin. The occasion was a symposium organised by the oil companies in order to outline the developments planned for that area over the next two decades. It was while we were discussing the dangers faced by men working in such dangerous waters that the subject of the difficulties arising from a colossal industrial development plonked into the midst of a small, tightly knit community was raised. Apparently, following protracted, noisy, and often acrimonious arguments with the local authorities the Shetland Islands Council was formed to protect the interests of the islanders, a surprisingly formidable body made up of local residents which the oil executives grudgingly admitted turned out to be more than a match for their own experienced negotiators. Displaying the bargaining acumen of Arabs trading in the marketplace, as one oil man put it with reluctant admiration, the Council persuaded the oil company to agree to allow them power of control over all sea areas within three miles of the terminal; to act as harbour authority; purchase land for oil-related development, and also they extracted a promise from the oil men to compensate the islanders by paying a large amount of money into a 'disturbance fund' and to co-operate in every way possible in order to ensure that the residents of Shetland gained maximum benefit from an industrial development so high-powered it tends to dominate everything within its vicinity. Preferential treatment to be given to islanders seeking empl
oyment was one of the perks I heard mentioned as a sop to appease the resentment of locals who view the appearance of the oil men as a threat to the islands' traditional way of life.' His frowning glance swung towards her. 'I assume, Catriona, that you made it plain in your letter of application that you are a resident of Shetland?'
'Yes… certainly I did,' she stammered, confused by the Professor's train of thought, 'I also explained why I was finding it necessary to leave my university post and why it's imperative that I find work within travelling distance of the home I shall be sharing with an elderly, ailing aunt.'
'And still they didn't relent!' Goaded into action, the Professor rose to his feet and strode around his desk towards her. Cupping a hand beneath her elbow, he urged her out of the chair. 'Run along and keep yourself occupied for half an hour or so while I make a telephone call.' Barely allowing her feet time to touch the ground, he ushered her out of his study. 'But stay within call, for if my efforts should prove fruitful I may have to call upon you to reach an immediate decision.'
As her work was up to date and the Professor had not had time to dictate replies to his morning mail, she wandered deep in thought in the direction of the staff restroom, then veered at the last moment, deciding that she would have more opportunity to think in the more impersonal atmosphere of the university canteen. She had just settled down at a quiet corner table and begun stirring sugar into her coffee when a voice intruded into her absorption.
'If you stir much longer the spoon might dissolve, never mind the sugar!'
'Janelle!' Catriona welcomed her appearance with one of the rare, sweet smiles she reserved exclusively for special friends. 'How nice of you to join me for your coffee break.'
'I told you I would before we left the flat this morning, don't you remember? Really, Catriona,' Janelle grimaced, settling into the chair opposite, 'you've always been a dreamer, but since your return from holiday last week you seem to have been walking about in a daze! What's wrong, is something troubling you?'
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