had overheard. Damn the man, he was as silent as a wraith, for all his size. She scowled. He seemed to take pleasure in creeping up on her unexpectedly and scaring the bejeesus out of her.
‘I know what you mean,’ Natalie agreed, and laid her fork aside. ‘I’m not very hungry, either. I feel...’ she paused ‘...I feel a little sick to my stomach.’
‘You
do
look a bit green,’ Helen observed, her face creased with concern. ‘Here, let’s go and sit down.’
As the men stood and adjourned to the billiards room for port and cigars, Helen, Wren and Gemma assured Rhys that his wife would be well looked after, and led Natalie into the drawing room, to one of the sofas by the fire.
‘I do hope you’re not coming down with the flu,’ Wren murmured, and insisted on calling the local doctor. ‘You really do look awfully pale.’
‘I’m fine,’ Natalie assured her. ‘I only need to sit down for a bit.’
Still, she didn’t object as Wren picked up the telephone receiver and rang Dr McTavish’s surgery.
After speaking to the doctor for a few minutes, she rang off. ‘Well, he can’t make it out tonight; the roads are already impassible. He said it sounds as though you’ve either got a bad case of indigestion, or flu. Although he says you’d have a fever, if it’s flu. Let me just go and fetch a thermometer so we can be sure,’ she decided.
‘Don’t be silly!’ Natalie protested, and straightened. ‘I’m fine, really.’
Just then, there was a commotion at the front door. A blast of cold air, followed by stamping feet and the dogs erupting into a frenzy of barking, signalled that someone had come into the great hall.
Colm
, Helen thought, her heart sinking.
He’s come back to tell the family who I really am.
‘Hellooo,’ a young woman’s voice trilled. ‘Tarkie? Where are you? Is this any kind of a welcome home for your long-lost sister?’
Chapter 11
‘Oh, dear,’ Wren murmured, and went nearly as pale as Natalie. ‘Not that
dreadful
girl again... She’ll soon have the entire household at sixes and sevens!’
Without another word, she abandoned her guests and hurried out to the entrance hall.
‘Well,’ Helen mused as she raised a brow and set her drink aside, ‘what do you suppose
that
was all about?’
‘I don’t know,’ Gemma replied, and raised her brow, ‘but I say we go and see what’s going on. Are you with me, ladies?’
They rose and made their way out to the hall to find Tarquin already there. A young woman in tartan trews and a jaunty red duffle coat stood inside the door, her feet surrounded by luggage and Vuitton trunks. A tiny, biscuit-coloured dog regarded the Campbell wolfhounds from the safety of the girl’s arms; its expression could only be called smug. A young man stood next to her.
‘Caitlin!’ Tarquin exclaimed. ‘What are you doing here?’ He glanced at her companion. ‘And who is this?’
‘Oh, sorry.’ She turned to the silent young man beside her. ‘This is Jeremy MacDougal. He drove us up from Edinburgh. We had a bit of a hair-raising trip; thank God he’s got a Land Rover, or we’d never have made it through the snow. Jeremy, this is my brother, Tark.’
The two men exchanged wary glances and shook hands.
Tarquin returned his attention to his sister. ‘I thought you were still at school.’
‘Classes are over for the holidays,’ she said airily, and shrugged out of her coat. Natalie caught sight of the Pringle label before the girl tossed it aside as though it were made of cheap nylon and not costly Scottish wool. She removed her cap and shook a length of red-gold hair loose.
‘I also thought you were going to Ibiza with your friends for Christmas.’ Tarquin eyed the stack of luggage and Jeremy in turn, his expression unreadable.
‘Well, I
was
,’ Caitlin agreed, ‘but then I thought, with Mam and Dad gone off to Corfu, why not come home and enjoy the peace and quiet? Besides, I broke it off with Robert. I came home to
‘I know what you mean,’ Natalie agreed, and laid her fork aside. ‘I’m not very hungry, either. I feel...’ she paused ‘...I feel a little sick to my stomach.’
‘You
do
look a bit green,’ Helen observed, her face creased with concern. ‘Here, let’s go and sit down.’
As the men stood and adjourned to the billiards room for port and cigars, Helen, Wren and Gemma assured Rhys that his wife would be well looked after, and led Natalie into the drawing room, to one of the sofas by the fire.
‘I do hope you’re not coming down with the flu,’ Wren murmured, and insisted on calling the local doctor. ‘You really do look awfully pale.’
‘I’m fine,’ Natalie assured her. ‘I only need to sit down for a bit.’
Still, she didn’t object as Wren picked up the telephone receiver and rang Dr McTavish’s surgery.
After speaking to the doctor for a few minutes, she rang off. ‘Well, he can’t make it out tonight; the roads are already impassible. He said it sounds as though you’ve either got a bad case of indigestion, or flu. Although he says you’d have a fever, if it’s flu. Let me just go and fetch a thermometer so we can be sure,’ she decided.
‘Don’t be silly!’ Natalie protested, and straightened. ‘I’m fine, really.’
Just then, there was a commotion at the front door. A blast of cold air, followed by stamping feet and the dogs erupting into a frenzy of barking, signalled that someone had come into the great hall.
Colm
, Helen thought, her heart sinking.
He’s come back to tell the family who I really am.
‘Hellooo,’ a young woman’s voice trilled. ‘Tarkie? Where are you? Is this any kind of a welcome home for your long-lost sister?’
Chapter 11
‘Oh, dear,’ Wren murmured, and went nearly as pale as Natalie. ‘Not that
dreadful
girl again... She’ll soon have the entire household at sixes and sevens!’
Without another word, she abandoned her guests and hurried out to the entrance hall.
‘Well,’ Helen mused as she raised a brow and set her drink aside, ‘what do you suppose
that
was all about?’
‘I don’t know,’ Gemma replied, and raised her brow, ‘but I say we go and see what’s going on. Are you with me, ladies?’
They rose and made their way out to the hall to find Tarquin already there. A young woman in tartan trews and a jaunty red duffle coat stood inside the door, her feet surrounded by luggage and Vuitton trunks. A tiny, biscuit-coloured dog regarded the Campbell wolfhounds from the safety of the girl’s arms; its expression could only be called smug. A young man stood next to her.
‘Caitlin!’ Tarquin exclaimed. ‘What are you doing here?’ He glanced at her companion. ‘And who is this?’
‘Oh, sorry.’ She turned to the silent young man beside her. ‘This is Jeremy MacDougal. He drove us up from Edinburgh. We had a bit of a hair-raising trip; thank God he’s got a Land Rover, or we’d never have made it through the snow. Jeremy, this is my brother, Tark.’
The two men exchanged wary glances and shook hands.
Tarquin returned his attention to his sister. ‘I thought you were still at school.’
‘Classes are over for the holidays,’ she said airily, and shrugged out of her coat. Natalie caught sight of the Pringle label before the girl tossed it aside as though it were made of cheap nylon and not costly Scottish wool. She removed her cap and shook a length of red-gold hair loose.
‘I also thought you were going to Ibiza with your friends for Christmas.’ Tarquin eyed the stack of luggage and Jeremy in turn, his expression unreadable.
‘Well, I
was
,’ Caitlin agreed, ‘but then I thought, with Mam and Dad gone off to Corfu, why not come home and enjoy the peace and quiet? Besides, I broke it off with Robert. I came home to
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