With a touch more confidence, she knocked on the door with a firm tap, her knuckles rapping the polished wood. She waited but there was no answer. Was he in there? Maybe he’d gone for a walk. She knocked a second time and again waited for a response. When none was forthcoming, she called, ‘Mr Strathallan?’ Still no answer. She knocked for a third time and was about to open the door when she heard a distinct crash and a loud, ‘For the love of God.’
Oops. He didn’t sound very happy.
Now she regretted bothering him, especially as she was about to tell him they wouldn’t be able to guarantee his peace for much longer and so he couldn’t stay. The solid wood door was thrown open and rocked on its considerable hinges. Ross Strathallan stood scowling in front of her, tension vibrating from him and his dark brows drawn together in two angry slashes. She very nearly backed up.
‘What do you want?’ he demanded, the words running together so fast it took her a second to pick them apart and make sense of them. She was so surprised she was lost for words.
‘I… Er…’
His dark blue eyes bored into her and she felt awkward, crossing one leg behind the other and feeling like a teenager again, not knowing what to do with her limbs.
‘I’m working. Is it urgent?’
‘Er, no,’ she squeaked with all the aplomb of a strangled guinea pig, a blush tinting her cheeks in a hot rush of embarrassment and humiliation.
‘I made it quite clear, Ms McBride, that I’m not to be disturbed. That is why I came here and why I’m paying a fortune. Forpeaceandquiet.’ There was no mistaking the fierce emphasis he placed on the two words. With a glare, he shook his head as if he were doomed to deal with idiots and Izzy could only stand there as he closed the door in her face.
‘Well, of all the…’ she muttered when she finally came to her senses. How rude!
Ten minutes later, she stomped across the cobbled courtyard, carrying a thermos mug of tea to the grandly titled ‘estate office’. Duncan never said no to a cup of tea and she needed to get out of the house. Punctuated by each exasperated step, she dictated a coldly polite eviction letter in her head, which she would take great delight in pushing beneath the professor’s door before the day was out.
Dear Sir
It is with regret… No, she didn’t regret it at all.
Dear Sir, I must ask you to vacate your room at the end of the month.
No again. She wasn’t asking him, she was telling him.
Dear Sir, Please take this as notice to vacate your room by the end of the month.Actually, she should make it ‘with immediate effect’, but that wouldn’t be very professional. In fact, it might sound a bit hysterical.
Perhaps,Dear Sir, please take this as notice for you to vacate your room by Friday.
There, that was better. Pleased that she’d got it all worked out in her head, she pushed open the door to the estate office and stepped inside, taking in the faintly musty smell. The room was a delightful muddle of papers, old photographs and bits of unidentifiable equipment and ironmongery, the original uses of which she could only guess at. Although this was very much Duncan’s domain, she loved the sense of history and things being passed on from generation to generation that pervaded the room. Although Izzy had only met him in those initial weeks before she’d gone to Ireland, she’d quickly developed a fondness for the man. In return, he seemed to appreciate her keenness to learn and to do what she could to maintain the estate for as long as she could. He was in receipt of a pension from the estate which thankfully was all taken care of and could live in his estate cottage for as long as he wanted.
‘Morning, Duncan.’
‘Ah, Isabel, lassie.’ He looked up from the old-fashioned ledger he was peering at through a magnifying glass. Izzy had noticed on her previous visit that he needed glasses to read but he flatly refused, saying he could see well enough, and to be fair he had extraordinary long sight. He could see a deer camouflaged in the bracken on the hillside from almost a mile away.
‘I got the farm shop to bring up a delivery for ye.’ He nudged a box on the table, which was spilling over with groceries and vegetables. ‘I didn’t think your mother would remember.’
‘Thanks, Duncan, that’s so helpful. I must take a trip down there at some point to see what they’ve got.’ She cast a quick glance at the vegetables. With a quick prick of pride, she realised she could put some of her cookery skills into practice. She was itching to get started. ‘I can make a soup for lunch. If you’d like some, I’ll leave the saucepan on the cooker and you can help yourself, whenever you want it.’
She had a feeling that no one had looked after Duncan for a very long time and she rather liked the idea of being able to do something for him.
‘Thanks, lassie. That’s very kind of you. I have nae had a home-cooked soup for a long while.’ He beamed at her and she was glad she’d suggested it. ‘Now, where d’ye want to start?’
‘At the beginning?’ Izzy offered him a tentative smile. ‘I know it’s not going to be good news.’ She looked at the stack of papers by his elbow. ‘But I need to get cracking on refurbishing the place. Did you know that Xanthe has already taken a booking?’
‘Ah, dinna fash yourself, we’ll get by.’
Duncan patiently took her through everything, including the outstanding feed bills for the Highland cattle, which had now all gone apart from two that Duncan had been unable to part with. He’d hand reared Dolly and Reba (who knew he was a country music fan?) from calves and they were more like pets to him. When he’d asked to keep them, Izzy had seen beyond his unemotional stoicism and realised how important to him they were. Xanthe had joked that it was probably a good job to keep two as they could always have steak if all else failed. Izzy winced at the memory and the scorching look of horror Duncan had sent Xanthe’s way. As always, her mother had been totally oblivious to her inappropriate comment.
As Izzy made to return to the house carrying the box of groceries, Duncan called, ‘One last thing I forgot to mention. There’s a couple of wild campers taken up residence on the edge of the loch. They seem nice enough and tidy. They’ve no left any litter and are not doing any harm but I thought you should know.’
‘Right, thanks, Duncan. Maybe I’ll pop down and see them.’ Unlike in the rest of the United Kingdom, wild camping in Scotland was legal and people had open access to any unenclosed land. Izzy thought it was rather nice – the one thing she didn’t feel comfortable about, in inheriting the castle, was being a landowner. Land belonged to everyone, didn’t it, as well as the creatures that roamed over it? For her, owning it seemed a human arrogance, the idea of stewardship felt much better. A privilege that she would never take for granted.
Chapter Four
