The Dog House (Harding's World of Romance) (22 page)

Those two weeks had seemed unusually long. Busy though she had kept herself with her work, which was
progressing well, she found a new emptiness in her life as a researcher. She missed the thrill of romance, the unexpected feelings she had developed for Colin and the light-hearted frivolity that he had brought her.

“Why only for the moment?” the
English woman pressed, bringing Fiona back from her musings.

“Because of a dog,” she answered shortly. “A large dog
who needs space to roam. As do I.”

The woman nodded approvingly but some of the others looked taken aback.

“Isn’t Edinburgh better for your research?” one asked in concern.

“Well, the library is us
eful,” she acknowledged. “And Campbell did live there. But he was staying up in these parts when he wrote the book that I’m researching, so it helps to immerse myself in his country.”

She looked a
round forlornly at her beloved Highlands. It was unfair that she could no longer imagine living here because of Colin, whose memory now lurked along these walks, under bushes and in rainstorms.

This was ridiculous, she thought crossl
y. Colin didn’t own the entire Highlands. There should be space enough for the two of them, particularly if she chose a different valley to stay in.

Last night she had stayed with Sarah. Although it had been a pleasure catching up with her friend, it had clearly been too soon for Fiona to find herself back in her old haunts and she had been unable to stop talking about Colin.

Sarah had been of the opinion that she should simply forgive him and get on with it. “You’re obviously pining for him, Fi,” she pointed out in exasperation.

“What he did w
as unpardonable,” Fiona had insisted stubbornly.

“But he didn’t know it was you,” her friend pointed out.

“That’s not the point. It’s the principle of the thing,” Fiona said tenaciously. “I mean, who goes around evicting people because their dog gets is a bit rowdy?”

“Most landlords,” Sara
h supplied unhelpfully.

Fiona looked at her balefully. “He didn’t even bother to
come talk face to face to see if I had other options. It’s just so typically upper class, “wash my hands of this, not my problem,” sort of behaviour. What good does that do for anyone, I ask you?”

“They do some good,” the barmaid insisted. “He left a tenner as a tip.”

Fiona’s ears had perked up. “He came round the pub?”

Sara
h nodded. “I get the impression that he was looking for someone,” she said pointedly, before adding, “I would guess you,” as if Fiona were particularly thick.

“So he’s bought your loyalty with a tenner,” Fiona grumbled crossly. “That’s exactly what they expect from us, you know.”

Sarah simply laughed. “You’re just trying to convince yourself now. D’you know, I heard Sinead O’Conner’s song the other day and thought about you two. The one where she sings “I love you my hard Englishman.””

“I wouldn’t exactly describe Colin as hard,” Fiona responded. “On the contrary, he’s a bit of a softie. Besides, that was about the English-Irish tiff.
Not a rebel song, and all that.”

Sara
h had shrugged off her objections. “Don’t go splitting hairs and getting all literal on me. All I’m saying is that Sinead is right. There’s nothing more natural than two people falling in love. Don’t go messing it up with politics.”

“
A dog exploring his neighbourhood is more natural,” Fiona said softly. “That’s the problem, not politics. But in any case, it’s well messed up for good. Now do you think I chose you for emotional consolation or for your free beer?”

“They are one and the same,
duckie,” Sarah grinned. “Come this way.”

Colin
pulled into the gravel parking space behind the old outbuildings and switched off the motor. His relief at being home was drastically diminished by the sight of his parents’ car parked in the converted garage, and a low moan escaped his lips.

Then he pulled himself together, with a wry thought of school rugby coaches telling the boys to pull up their socks and keep a stiff upper lip. He had been glad to leave rugger behind him and to move
on to more genteel sports like golf and tennis, but the old brainwashing remained. Fiona would certainly have had something to say about that.

Right now he would have been happy to hear one of her anti-English tirades, just to hear her voice again, but she had been refusing his calls. He had been back to all the places he could think of to look for her, but she had disappeared without a trace and he was slowly accepting that she didn’t want him to find her.

He had spent the past fortnight feeling listless and lost, failing to find the usual pleasure in his favourite sports and social events and constantly replaying their time together. He was still unsure of what he ought to have said or done on the day of their golf game, but he suspected that he hadn’t handled it very well and it frustrated him that she had no idea just how much he cared.

He had already been feeling that way when the evening incident with the dog occurred and he had discovered that Fiona was the new tenant in
Silverbeck Cottage. It was impossible not to contrast that night with the previous time that he had seen her soaking wet and irresistible after the hike. Between his shock at seeing her there, the delay in realising that he had unknowingly evicted her and the stress of his parents’ presence, he had mishandled that situation as well. The truth was that he wasn’t used to such emotional scenes and seemed to freeze on the spot, not knowing how he should react until far too late.

He still wasn’t sure
how he ought to have reacted but he wished he could have a second crack at it. But given the unfortunate eviction, it was hard to imagine any way to win her back.

As he opened the Range Rover door h
e took a deep breath and steeled himself to meet his father’s disapproval. Normally his natural joviality was enough to buffer him against William’s tirades, but since Fiona’s disappearance his levity was sorely lacking. Even this weekend, during his doubles tennis tournament with Aiken, he had been visibly distracted.

Aiken had pulled him aside
at one point to tell him to hire a private investigator and track Fiona down. Colin had been taken aback.

“I can’t believe that I’m hearing this advice from you, old mate,” he said in concern. “Seems the opposite of our battle cry, doesn’t it?”

Aiken had looked at him long and hard. “Normally I would disapprove because a serious relationship can turn a fun-loving chap into a complete bore. In your case, it seems to be Fiona’s absence which has this effect on you so I’d rather see her clutching your arm if it brought your old spirits back. Besides which, she kept the other cling-ons at bay.”

It was true that Bridget and Emma had mysteriously reappeared soon after Fiona’s hasty exit
two weeks ago and had even found their way to the indoor tennis tournament this weekend. In his current mood Colin had found their normally mildly entertaining commentaries increasingly tiresome.

“Hard weekend away, son?” his father’s disapproving voice reached him across the lawn as he approached the castle.
William and Elisabeth were sitting on a low terrace in front of the main house, newspapers and magazines spread over the thick blankets on their laps. Colin suspected that his father spent most of his time at Loch Murray simply lying in wait to pounce on his son whenever he returned from anything remotely social.

“Out upholding the family honor, pater,” Colin replied with forced chirpiness. “My backhand would have made you proud.”

“I sincerely doubt that,” his father said shortly. “Now, if you wanted to make me proud, you should develop a bit of the determination we saw in a young woman we met this weekend. That was passion and perseverance to make a parent proud.”

“You’ve finally met the cleaning lady?” Colin asked impudently, cringing at his father’s withering look. “Do tell,” he urged more contritely.

His father sent him one more baleful glance before continuing. “While you were away playing, she was fighting for a cause. Hardworking, responsible, and all this despite a working-class start in life. I’m sure she could whip you into shape. ”

“Oh, I was fairly fit on the courts, but thanks anyway,” Colin replied, bending down to kiss his mother on the cheek. “
How are you, mother? You seem strangely unperturbed by the fact that Father has taken a shining to the hired help.”

His mother put down her paper and smiled up at Colin. “We actually see eye to eye on this,” she surprised him by saying. “And she isn’t the
help, it’s a young woman who gave a talk at one of Dougal’s events. Quite impressive, given her obviously less-privileged roots.”

Colin became more interested
. “An outing to do with Mackenzie House?”

“As you would know if you kept up with the Foundation work
as you suggested you would the last time we spoke,” his father said sharply. “Funny that we heard about it down at the estate and you somehow missed it living just down the road.”

“I would have gone had I known of it,” Colin said with unusual vehemence, cursing himself for not having bothered to look through the stack of papers that
McTavish had handed him on Friday morning. It sounded like his parents were describing Fiona, and he had missed an opportunity to see her again. “Was she young, fair-haired and pretty?”

His mother sat up, looking at Colin with interest. “Very pretty,” she agreed.
“And highly knowledgeable and committed, a convincing speaker. I was thinking that we ought to hire her for the Foundation with all that talent. She could help with fund-raising as well as giving her opinion as to what projects to support.”

William turned to stare at his wife as if she had ju
st suggested a picnic on Mars. “Are you mad, woman?” he fairly bellowed. “You heard that accent. People would think we’d hired a charlady.”

Elisabeth looked wounded. “Well, we could pay for elocution lessons,” she suggested defensively.

Colin rolled his eyes. “Elocution lessons? Mother, this is the twenty-first century, not a replay of Pygmalion.”

“You and your ancient Greeks,” his mother sniffed.
“Always going back to the classics.”

“I was thinking more of Shaw’s
Eliza Doolittle,” Colin said with a sigh. “Don’t you think that’s a bit patronising?”

“She might appreciate some help with that accent,” his mother insisted, picking up her magazine and giving it a shake as if she were about to start reading again.

“It’s upside down, Mother,” Colin pointed out patiently. “Look, about that accent. She is Scottish, after all, and we are in Scotland.”

His father merely grunted. “Yes, well
, some Scots bother to learn to speak correctly. Dougal Andrews, for example.”

“He went to public school in England, Father,” Colin said wearily.

“
My point precisely,” William said triumphantly. “He did the right thing if you want to move up in this world. Learning to speak and all that.” A sudden frown creased his brow. “How do you know about her, by the way?”

Colin put down his tennis bag and perched on the edge of the table, ignoring his father’s grim countenance. “Remember we had a tenant at
Silverbeck Cottage?” he began carefully.

His mother dropp
ed her magazine again and leaned forward eagerly. “Funny you should mention that, Colin. I had Alistair on the phone just the other day.”

“Sounds like he’s enjoying life in town,” William cut in. “Finally seeing the advantage
of being a two-minute walk from everything, realising what he’s missed out on for all these years. Doesn’t sound like he’s keen to come back out to Loch Murray.”

“Don’t speak too soon,” his wife said tartly. “Connie might think otherwise. I take it she isn’t quite so keen on him being a two-minute walk from the local pub.”

“They won’t be back out,” William repeated shortly. “Mark my words.”

Elisabeth looked disgruntled. “In any case, we won’t be renting it out to strangers again. I was thinking we might turn it into a guest cottage.”

Colin looked at her dolefully. “Oh mother, my friends don’t want to be stuck in some draughty old building ten minutes’ walk from the main house.”

His mother sent him a dry smile. “
I was thinking of your aunt Mildred, for example. But getting back to the girl. I’m quite serious. We should get her to work for us.”

“She wouldn’t,” Colin said flatly. “
Not a good idea.”

It was his father’s turn to put down his paper and look hard at Elisabeth. “Much as it pains me to agree with Colin, he’s right. We don’t know her that well at all.
She could be a crook, for all we know.”

“She likes her dog,”
Elisabeth said. “She’s willing to move for him. That says something about her character already. And as you said, she’s passionate and knowledgeable and responsible. She could be the mind behind it all, speaking only at cultural events, and Colin could remain the public voice and face for the Foundation.”