Revenge by Seduction Page 2

  Once again she gazed around the room thoughtfully. Was this exactly how the place had looked when Morag had first set up her new home? Nothing added…nothing taken away…nothing changed from that day to this. Everything preserved and lovingly cared for. A shrine, in fact?

  Suddenly she remembered something else. She’d been about eight years old at the time and a crowd of them had been playing down by the harbour. Jamie Reid had made a catapult and he was using the seagulls as target practice when Morag had descended on them.

  ‘Jamie Reid…’ she’d said in a soft, sorrowful voice. ‘Don’t you know that every seagull has the soul of a drowned sailor awaiting to be born again?’

  It wasn’t the sort of thing eight-year-old kids thought about, but she’d never seen Jamie playing with that catapult again.

  She stopped her reminiscing and got to her feet as Morag came through from the kitchen bearing a tray. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ she asked politely.

  Morag smiled. ‘You’ve helped enough as it is. I’m still not too old to look after a guest.’

  She smiled back and watched in silence as Morag poured two cups of tea. The knuckles on the crooked hands looked swollen and arthritic and she wondered just how old Morag really was. She had to be seventy-five at least. Her face was wrinkled, and yet in spite of her apparent frailty you could feel the inner strength and vibrant energy of the woman.

  ‘Well, now…’ Morag said, lowering herself carefully into a chair opposite. ‘It’s a while since I’ve seen you, Catriona. You’re quite the young lady now. Twenty-one, isn’t it?’

  ‘Aye. A month ago.’

  Morag nodded and smiled. ‘You always were a pretty girl, but you’re even prettier now that you’re a woman. You’ve the sky-blue eyes of your mother and the red hair of your father. A McNeil if ever I saw one. And how are they both keeping, these days?’

  ‘Och, they’re fine enough, Morag. Like everyone else up here they’re just waiting for the fishing to get better so that folk have a bit of money in their pockets.’

  ‘Aye…’ Morag sighed and looked towards the window. ‘Times are hard, right enough. I dare say they’ll be a bit upset at first when you tell them you’re leaving.’

  Catriona’s cup stopped halfway to her mouth and she blinked in astonishment. She hadn’t confided to anyone about the feelings of frustration and restlessness which had been tormenting her for weeks now. In fact it was only this very morning, while she’d been waiting in the queue at the post office, that she’d finally made up her mind to leave Kindarroch and try her luck down south.

  ‘How…how did you know?’ she managed faintly.

  Morag’s eyes twinkled. ‘We’ll just call it a guess. Anyone can see that a girl like you shouldn’t have to waste her time in a backwater like this, just hoping for the best. For the last ten years anyone with an ounce of ambition in them has gone south where the opportunities are.’

  Catriona accepted the explanation. ‘I suppose you’re right. There’s no work to be had in Kindarroch, that’s for sure.’

  ‘And not much chance of a girl finding a husband either,’ Morag added innocently.

  Once again Catriona was jolted by surprise, and she quickly covered her embarrassment with a self-conscious laugh. ‘I really haven’t been giving it that much thought.’

  ‘Haven’t you?’ Morag asked, regarding her with fond amusement. ‘Well, if you say so. But I’ve an idea there’s a rich and handsome young man out there just waiting to fall in love with a girl like you.’

  Catriona smiled in embarrassment. ‘Away with you. You’re just teasing. Anyway, he wouldn’t have to be rich…or even that handsome. I’d settle for someone with a kind heart, nice teeth and a sense of humour.’

  Morag gave a nod of approval. ‘Aye…I know you would. So where are you thinking of going?’

  She’d been trying to make her mind up about that. ‘I’m not sure. Edinburgh or Glasgow, I suppose. They’re not so far away that I can’t come back and visit my folks any time I feel homesick.’

  Morag shook her head. ‘You’ll find what you’re looking for in London, and you’ll be far too busy to feel homesick.’

  ‘London!’ Her blue eyes widened doubtfully. That was the south of England! Another planet as far as she was concerned. She was about to reject the idea out of hand when something made her pause. Morag had sounded so sure of herself.

  ‘Why London?’ she asked cautiously. ‘I don’t know a soul down there.’

  Morag merely smiled. ‘Donald could give you a lift the next time he takes a load of fish to Inverness. There’s an overnight train from there that would get you to London the next morning.’

  If Morag did know anything she was keeping it to herself, and Catriona still looked doubtful. ‘I…I don’t know… I’ve a bit of money saved up but I hear it’s a terribly expensive place to live.’

  Morag closed her eyes for a moment, as if deep in thought, then she opened them and said with quiet confidence, ‘You’ll manage. I know you’ll have a hard time at first, but I’ve never met a McNeil yet who’s afraid of a challenge. Anyway, you’ll meet someone who’ll become a good friend. She’ll help you to find your feet.’

  She didn’t much like the sound of the first bit and she frowned. ‘Excuse me, Morag. What exactly do you mean by a “hard time”?’

  Morag leaned across the table and patted her hand affectionately. ‘I just mean that it’s never easy when you suddenly find yourself in a strange place…amongst people you don’t know.’ She glanced towards the window again, her eyes distant. ‘I remember how I felt when I first came here from the islands.’

  Catriona wondered if she should be taking this seriously. Shouldn’t she just humour and play along with this eccentric but sweet old lady and then be on her way, having done her good deed for the day?

  ‘Aye. I suppose there’s something in that, Morag,’ she admitted. ‘But I’m not expecting a bed of roses.’ She finished her tea, then rose and said brightly, ‘Perhaps I will go to London. And if I do meet this wonderful man you say is waiting for me I’ll be sure to write and let you know.’

  An odd little smile played on Morag’s lips. ‘There will be no need for that, Catriona. I’ll know well enough when it happens. Now you’d better go home and break the news to your parents.’

  As things turned out she put off telling her parents until after supper that evening. Suddenly the only sound in the room was the heavy ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece as they both stared at her in silence.

  She sighed. ‘Well, don’t look so surprised. You must know it’s been on my mind for some time.’

  Her parents looked at each other in resignation, then her father nodded. ‘Aye, lass. We can’t say it’s come as a great surprise.’ He toyed with his pipe, then cleared his throat. ‘Where are you thinking of going?’

  ‘London.’

  ‘London!’ exclaimed her mother in horror. ‘But that’s so far away!’ She appealed to her husband, ‘Tell her not to go. You’re her father. She’s only a child!’

  ‘I’m an adult now,’ Catriona reminded her gently.

  Her mother sniffed. ‘Barely. You’re still a child as far as I’m concerned.’

  ‘Oh?’ She smiled. ‘Aren’t you forgetting that you were only eighteen when you married Dad? I dare say that Gran said the very same thing about you.’

  Her mother sniffed again, but her father chuckled. ‘She’s got you there, Jean. And a bonnie bride you were.’ He grinned at his daughter. ‘Don’t worry, lass. Your mother doesn’t think you’re ready for London, but I’m wondering if London is ready for you.’

  ‘I hear it’s an awfully wicked place,’ her mother warned, ‘Gangsters and drugs and terrible tap water you have to filter before you can drink it. Anyway, you were born and raised here. You’ll get lost. And all your friends are here.’

  ‘And they’re all in the same boat as me,’ she replied. ‘There’s no work here and I’ve been a burden to you long enough. I
can’t let you go on supporting me for ever. I’ve got to stand on my own two feet.’ She smiled at both of them, then said quietly, ‘Besides, I don’t want to end up an old maid. You’ll be wanting grandchildren, won’t you?’

  ‘Aye…’ her mother said wistfully. ‘But I’d always hoped that one day you and Jamie Reid would…’

  Catriona gave a snort to indicate what she thought of a man who still let his old mother fetch the coal from the back shed.

  ‘She’s right,’ her father agreed. ‘There isn’t a lad in Kindarroch I’d want for a son-in-law. All the good ones leave here the first chance they get. They know there’s no future in the fishing now. They’ve all gone south to work in banks or factories.’

  Her mother sighed. ‘I suppose you’re right. I even heard that the Harbour Hotel might soon be up for sale. Trade is that bad.’ She looked at Catriona sadly. ‘There’s no use me trying to make you change your mind. You’re just like your father. The McNeils always were a stubborn lot.’

  Catriona gave her a kiss on the cheek, then hugged her. ‘That’s why you married one, isn’t it? Maybe I’ll be as lucky as you were. Old Morag seems to think so.’

  It had been said in all innocence but her mother gave a start and her eyes widened. ‘When did you see Morag? Is she the one who’s been putting this idea into your head?’

  ‘Och, no,’ she answered lightly. ‘I helped her home with her shopping this morning and when we got there she invited me in for a cup of tea.’

  There was a shocked silence then, ‘You were inside her house?’

  ‘Aye. And I dare say you’d have done the same if she’d invited you. Anyway, I’d already made up my mind about leaving and I swear on my life I hadn’t told anyone. But she knew.’

  Her father scratched his head in amused wonder. ‘Aye…that’s Morag for you. There isn’t much goes on around here that she doesn’t know about.’

  ‘She has the second sight, right enough,’ her mother agreed in a respectful whisper. ‘It’s no wonder that the poor wee minister takes to drink whenever he sees her.’ She paused, then asked with bated breath, ‘What’s it like inside her house?’

  Catriona reassured her. ‘Well…it’s very old-fashioned but everything is clean and polished. And there wasn’t a black cat or crystal ball or black candle in sight, if that’s what you’re asking.’

  ‘Oh…’ It was a sound of disappointment. Then, ‘So what exactly did she tell you?’

  ‘She just said that I had nothing to worry about because I was a McNeil and the McNeils had always known how to look after themselves.’

  Again her mother sounded disappointed. ‘Is that all?’

  ‘Isn’t it enough?’ she asked, skilfully avoiding a direct answer. ‘Haven’t you always said that she has the “gift” and that she was a person you could trust?’

  ‘It’s good enough for me,’ her father said firmly. He bowed to the inevitable with good grace. ‘We’ll organise a wee going-away party for you in the hotel bar the night before you leave.’

  Her mother bit her lip, then nodded and gave a tired smile. ‘Aye…I suppose you’re right, Catriona. I always knew this day would come. But you’ll come back and see us as often as you can, won’t you?’

  ‘Of course I will, Mum.’ She hugged and kissed them both, then turned away quickly before they could see the tears forming in her eyes.

  CHAPTER TWO

  WHEN the flat was cleaned and tidied to her personal satisfaction Catriona peeked into Madge’s room. Madge was snoring gently, and, careful not to disturb her, Catriona closed the door quietly. Then she put on her coat and locked the flat door as she went out.

  The shop was only a ten-minute walk away. Since it was Sunday, a day usually spent lounging around and resting, Catriona was dressed informally in jeans and a loose white cotton sweater. And in spite of the ache in her heart she also wore her usual air of friendliness as she exchanged good mornings with the regulars she was beginning to recognise. Old Nellie who ran the florist shop next door to the boutique was busy setting up her usual brilliant display on the pavement outside and she ordered a bunch of flowers, telling Nellie she’d pick them up when she was finished.

  She made herself a cup of coffee, then, arming herself with a stock sheet from the cubby-hole which served as an office, she began checking the inventory in the rear stock room.

  The jaunty, carefree smile which she’d worn on the way here had merely been a front. Now that she was alone the mask had slipped, and there was a hard bitterness in her eyes and the downturn of her mouth.

  She tried her best, but ten minutes later she felt like giving up. At any other time stock-taking was a chore she could breeze through in half an hour, but this morning she was finding it impossible to concentrate. Her mind just wasn’t on the job. It was too preoccupied with dark feelings of betrayal and seething anger.

  How could she have been so stupid as to fall for that black-hearted devil? So the McNeils could look after themselves, could they? Well, here was one who obviously couldn’t. Had she surrendered herself to him so willingly because beneath all her pride she was nothing more than a gullible Highland peasant girl who still believed in the folk tales of her race? Tales about magic and dark lovers and old women who could foretell the future. Had she wanted to believe that Ryan Hind was the man she was destined to marry? Was that the reason she had so carelessly fallen in love with him? Had she been her own worst enemy?

  The seemingly random hand of fate which had brought them together had been in the shape of a young teenage tearaway causing chaos and posing a threat to life and limb as he’d hurtled along the pavement on a pair of rollerblades.

  Catriona had managed to leap out of his way just in time to save herself from being knocked flat. It had been more of a sideways stagger, but the end result had been a collision with the tall stranger who’d just emerged from the estate agent’s office.

  ‘Oops!’ she’d gasped, the breath almost knocked out of her. His arms had held her securely and she’d stammered an apology to the knot of his silk tie, which had been all she could see of him at the time.

  ‘I…I’m sorry.’

  The deep, warmly resonant voice seemed to wash over her. ‘I’m not. You’re welcome. So far this has been the highlight of my day. You can drop into my arms any time you want.’

  She was about to tell him resentfully that she was quite capable of standing on her own two feet, and that there was no need for him to clasp her so tightly, when she strained her head upwards and changed her mind. Strikingly handsome was the first thought that came to mind. Beneath dark, ironically tilted brows the eyes were a startling light grey, alive and sharply observant. It was a face which instantly evoked visions of romantic encounters under the starlit skies of far-off deserts. It was a face which would cause any woman’s heart to flutter nervously.

  ‘Are you hurt?’ he asked in concern.

  The sound of that voice sent little shivers through her again, and she managed to shake her head. She could smell him in her nostrils. The faint hint of aftershave…the fresh, laundry smell of his blindingly white shirt.

  The noise of the rush hour traffic dimmed in her ears and she was oblivious of the people jostling by to catch their buses home. She was alone with him in a pool of silence, struck dumb and absolutely smitten.

  His eyes continued to stare down into hers, making her more dry-mouthed than ever. ‘With any luck that young thug will break a leg before he causes a serious accident,’ he remarked in annoyance.

  At last she managed to say breathlessly, ‘Yes. It…it isn’t safe to walk the streets these days. Some people are so inconsiderate, aren’t they?’ Now that had been a really brilliant observation, hadn’t it? she thought. Why couldn’t she have thought of something witty, or at least more interesting to say? But it was hard to be cool and sophisticated when you were feeling hot and flustered. And he still hadn’t loosened his grip on her.

  ‘You look a little shaken and pale,’ he observed, then added
in a voice which brooked no argument, ‘What you need is a brandy. Come on.’

  Her lips opened in a half-hearted attempt to protest, but nothing came and she allowed herself to be led gently but firmly the few yards along the pavement to the nearest bar. It was not until she found herself being ushered into a seat at a secluded table in the lounge that she managed a nervous stammer. ‘I…I don’t like brandy. And I really don’t think…’

  ‘Whisky, then? I insist you have something.’ He eyed her paternally. ‘Purely for medicinal purposes only.’

  She smiled weakly, overwhelmed by the charm and force of his personality. ‘All right, then. A small one. Glenlivet…and some mineral water, please.’ That was how the English tourists drank it at the harbour bar, much to the amusement of the locals, so it seemed the sophisticated thing to do.

  He summoned a waiter, gave him the order, then sat down facing her. Reaching across the table, he introduced himself. ‘I’m Ryan Hind. And you are?’

  ‘Catriona McNeil,’ she murmured politely. His hand was firm and cool and sent a tingle up her arm.

  He repeated her first name to himself softly, then smiled. ‘Very pretty. Suits you admirably.’

  She was acutely aware of the way his sharp eyes were assessing her appearance, and the thought passed through her mind that a man like him would never have given her a second glance if he’d met her before Madge had taken her under her wing and given her some tips on style and fashion. It was Madge who supplied the clothes she wore, insisting that it had nothing to do with generosity and everything to do with the image of the shop.

  At the moment she was wearing a loose-fitting pearl-grey jacket over a cream silk blouse, and her red hair had been groomed and styled to frame her face and fall in a languid curve to her shoulders.

  His eyes continued to study her in a silence which she began to find more embarrassing by the second. Her wits seemed to be deserting her and her left leg had suddenly developed a nervous tremble. God knows what kind of impression she was making on him, she thought desperately. A half-witted schoolgirl could have done better.