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Judith smiled at her sister. “No, perhaps you’re right, Barbie. As long as you’re not the one he’s trying to impress.”

She escaped upstairs to work on the new dress. The Highland Ball was on a Thursday, which was luckily early closing day, and Judith had ample time to arrive at Garranmure and dress.

Of Fiona there was no sign until the grandfather clock in the hall boomed out seven o’clock. Judith had been waiting for that signal. She took a last glimpse of herself in the long mirror and smiled with pleasure at her reflection. The warm, glowing apricot dress added richness to her skin and lent sparkle to her grey eyes. She had cut the dress on simple lines with a draped bodice to enhance the play of light on the fabric, and a gently flowing skirt, but a stole of smoke-grey chiffon, the ends weighted with matching marabout, made a piquant contrast.

She picked up the rainbow evening bag Barbara had lent her and sailed out of the room to the top of the handsome staircase.

Fiona was waiting for her. “How charming you look, Judith!” she smiled, and by that syrupy tone, Judith should have known what was to follow.

“You look marvellous yourself,” she said politely and sincerely to Fiona, who wore a white chiffon dress of the simplest cut, the perfect foil for her bright red hair and green eyes.

“We always wear white on these occasions,” Fiona murmured happily. “Then there’s no clash with the men’s tartans. Shall we go down?”

Judith’s gay self-confidence vanished. Why hadn’t Barbara warned her? Even Barbara herself would be wearing the “old white.” Judith slowly descended the wide staircase, but she felt tawdry and cheap. Stuart’s friends would whisper, “Got up to kill, my dear! Obviously an outsider!”

But she forgot her self-criticism in admiration of Stuart in his myrtle green velvet doublet fastened with silver stags’ heads, lace jabot at the neck, and green and black kilt.

This was the first time she had seen him since their adventure on Callamore, and she was uncertain how to approach him.

“You look as though you tell only sunny hours,” he whispered as he introduced her to other guests. “Wonderful colour.”

“Too gaudy for this occasion. Too late, I realised I should have had a white dress.”

“Nonsense! Half the women wear tatty chiffon things that look as though they were left over from last year’s garden party.”

“Nobody would say that you were left over from anything. You look every inch a chieftain.”

He chuckled. “I shall never be that. True, I’m allowed to march in the front rank along with the Chief when he opens the Gathering, but that’s only a concession. You must come to the Gathering next time.”

His easy manner cheered Judith considerably, for she felt that she had been re-admitted to the circle of his friends.

Some of the other male guests wore their clan tartans with doublets of mulberry velvet, black or green, and at dinner a piper in full dress marched slowly round the table, playing traditional airs.

At the Ball itself, Judith realised that she had much to learn about Scottish dances before she became as accomplished in the intricate figures as most of the dancers there. Eightsomes she knew, and the simpler ones, like The Dashing White Sergeant, but it was better to keep out of the more complicated strathspeys.

“I should hate to bring chaos,” she told Neil, “to those who’ve been dancing reels ever since they could walk.”

He, too, had relinquished Mairi for the time being, but Judith discovered that it was a mistake to sit out with Neil.

“We’d better accept the fact that we’re both outsiders. You look lovely in that dress, but I can’t hope to compete with those peacocks in their kilts.”

“Sh! For heaven’s sake, don’t let a Scot hear you saying ‘kilts’ in the plural!” she laughed. “Even I know better than that.”

They had left the ballroom and sat in one of the hotel’s smaller lounges.

“You’ve been rather elusive lately,” he said. “Every time I’ve passed Andy’s place, you’ve been out or on the mainland.”

“I’m working now, five and a half days a week. I’ve no time to dally at Barbara’s front door, looking out for a handsome stranger on a white charger.”

“I’ve scarcely seen you since that stormy night kept you and Huntly on Callamore island. Judith darling, you don’t know how crazy I am with jealousy over that incident. I wish I’d been with you, instead of that Highland bigwig.”

She laughed softly, although inwardly she shivered at the thought of being marooned in a lonely place with Neil. His intensity frightened her.

“You would probably have been unable to stop the boat from breaking up on the rocks. Then we’d have been on Callamore until somebody could find a boat to bring us back.”

“I wouldn’t have complained. Look, Judith, I don’t care what Mairi has said about you—”

“What has she said?”

He shrugged and looked away for a moment. “Oh, you can imagine. That you’re just a flirtatious type, a goodtime girl.”

“On Kylsaig?” Her grey eyes kindled with amusement. “Good times with young men aren’t exactly thick on the ground, are they? Anyway, you should know, you’re the only man under thirty.”

Judith could well believe that Mairi had tried to make damaging insinuations, but it was pointless to argue about them.

“I still want to marry you.” He reached out for her wrist.

Something in his tone of voice was faintly patronising, but she hoped she had imagined that. Very gently, she withdrew her hand from his grasp. “I’m sorry, Neil, but it’s no use.”

“You’re not telling me that Huntly’s in the way?”

The small lounge was empty now, but for her and Neil. She rose swiftly to her feet and glared down at him. “Why does everybody keep harping on you and Stuart? If I’m not absolutely prostrated with love for one, then it’s certain that I must be for the other! Doesn’t it occur to you that I might possibly know other men? Or that I don’t particularly want to fall in love with anybody? What makes you think you’re the first man who’s wanted to kiss me? I’m going back to the ballroom. I’d like to dance.”

She turned so quickly that she almost collided with the couple entering the doorway, Mairi and Stuart.

Mairi smiled angelically. “There!” she said, turning towards Stuart. “Isn’t that what I’ve always thought? I’ve known that somewhere in London Judith has some attractive men friends.” She turned back to Judith. “I’m so sorry you’re such a long way from them. But sooner or later, you’ll be going back.”

Judith gave Stuart one defiant glance and fled before Mairi and Neil, together or singly, could involve her in any more misrepresentations. In the ladies’ room, she dabbed at her nose, touched up her lipstick and glared all the time at her own reflection. Now Mairi had pinned on yet another little label—“Judith has someone special in London, so of course she’s only amusing herself with Neil and Stuart and anyone else handy.”

Judith reflected that perhaps she should have stayed to face it out and contradict Mairi, but there would have been little sense in that.

In the ballroom, she was glad to join Barbara and Graham.

“I said you’d outshine most of the women here,” Barbara greeted her, “and so you do. It was a lovely colour to choose, especially with so many wispy whites here.”

“Don’t you dare tell me I’m a buttercup among the daisies!” Judith retorted.

“Of course not! Darling, has somebody said that to annoy you? Not Fiona?”

Judith laughed, shedding her ill-humour. “No, it was my own phrase. Actually, Stuart did remark that half the women looked as though they were wearing last year’s garden party outfits.”

Barbara bridled. “Indeed? Oh, did he? Well, if I could have afforded something else, I wouldn’t be wearing this old relic from former days.”

Barbara turned her head towards Graham, then quickly lowered her glance and looked away. Judith, too, caught the significance, for without words Graham was plainly saying,
Why be poor? I could give you what you want.

Judith cut in quickly on the awkward moment. “What a fraud you are! In that dress you know perfectly well you’d outshine all the other goddesses at a party on Olympus.” A few minutes later Stuart came to the table and bowed to Judith in an exaggerated manner. “I believe you want to dance. Will ye tak’ the floor wi’ me?”

She rose immediately, remembering too late that with her sister watching, she should have dallied just that few seconds to give herself poise. Still, she managed not to babble exultantly that she was only too delighted to dance with him.

In his arms she forgot all the irritations of the past hour and surrendered to the few blessed minutes the waltz would last. For most of the time she and Stuart were silent, for they had progressed beyond the need for small talk and she longed for the music to continue for ever so that the spell might never be broken.

But the band refused to play more than two encores, and with Stuart she joined Fiona and the rest of his party. When the next dance, a strathspey, was announced, everyone else trooped off quickly to their places, leaving Judith alone with Stuart.

“I’d like to watch this one,” she said. “I see I shall have to learn all these Scottish, dances. Do they teach them somewhere in Cruban? At evening classes, perhaps?”

“I don’t know.” His hazel eyes crinkled with laughter. “Only southern savages like you would dream of learning in that way. Be patient and perhaps I’ll give you lessons.” She knew that she was smiling foolishly, but she held her breath, willing the enchanted moment to remain with her. Did his careless words carry a hint that he wanted her to play some part in his future?

In the final
Auld Lang Syne,
Judith became placed between Stuart and Neil, and their combined efforts nearly wrenched her arms out of their sockets. She was breathless by the end, but Stuart put his arm around her waist to steady her.

“Our rough Highland ways are rather boisterous, I fear,” he mocked.

“I’ll probably survive,” she retorted. “It was a grand evening.”

Fiona poked her head into Judith’s bedroom at Garranmure for a last chatter.

“Enjoy yourself?” she asked.

“It was wonderful,” Judith replied. “I doubt if I shall have much energy left for tomorrow at work.”

“Oh, yes, you have to go to the shop. How dreary for you! When you’re back in London, you’ll think Dalkeith’s little shop quite laughable.”

“It may be small, but it’s very good of its kind,” Judith said defensively. She yawned heavily. “Oh, I’m tired!” she murmured, hoping that Fiona would take the hint and go to bed.

But, perversely, when Fiona had gone, Judith’s tiredness vanished and she lay wide awake in the darkness, smiling because Fiona was again among those urging her to go back to London. “Go south, young woman 1” she muttered aloud. “Or else—”

Next morning she dressed and went down to breakfast, still drowsy.

Stuart gave her a curt “Good morning,” then added, “You could have had breakfast sent up to your room.”

“I don’t really like eating in bed,” she said sleepily. She helped herself to porridge and sat down at the table, but Stuart ate his while walking about the room. Perhaps he was in a hurry, she thought, although eating takes as long standing up as sitting down.

“Mundon has made an offer for Andy’s croft,” he said abruptly. “Did you know?”

She raised her head sharply. “No, I didn’t.”

“He’s offering considerably more than the figure I told Andy. I’m wondering how Mundon knew what that figure was.”

“I haven’t discussed it with Graham.” Judith realised that her sister had probably talked the matter over with Graham and might easily have disclosed Stuart’s price.

“The trouble is,” he continued, “that rebuilding the inn is going to cost a lot of money, and if I buy Andy’s place at too high a price, I shall have to sell it at a tremendous loss or take a chance on letting it at a very low figure.”

“I should certainly not give Graham Mundon any information I might know. I’m not in sympathy with his development schemes. In any case, I don’t know what you’ve offered.” She felt slightly nettled that he should suspect her.

He dropped the subject and spoke of his forthcoming visit to London and the south.

“I’m taking Fiona down for a holiday to London. Then I’ve been told about some good ex-R.A.F. rescue launches for sale at Southhampton. I might buy. A cabin cruiser like
Flying Cloud
is handy, but not really substantial enough for some of our winter gales.”

“Was the boat damaged on Callamore?”

“No. A few repairs have put her right and I had the dinghy re-planked. When you’re ready, I’ll drive you down to Cruban.”

No wonder Fiona had been so quietly triumphant last night, thought Judith. She had known that she and Stuart were planning this trip. There was probably more foundation than anyone suspected for Fiona’s assertion that eventually she would marry Stuart. Judith had now to face the fact that Stuart was telling her—oh, in the nicest way, of course—not to harbour fond delusions. Perhaps it would be better to accept such overwhelming advice from so many quarters and retreat to the obscurity of London and a new job there.

As she mounted the magnificent double-flight staircase to pick up her overnight bag and the large dress-box containing the apricot evening dress, she thought gloomily that it was unlikely that she would ever set foot again in Garranmure House, unless as a" guest at Stuart’s wedding to Fiona. The golden cherubs on the newel posts seemed to smirk at her, reducing her to a casual visitor who had allowed absurd dreams to substitute for reality.

When she was already in the car and Stuart was about to drive off, Angus, the factor, spoke to him on some apparently urgent business.

Stuart stepped out. “All right. I’ll attend to it. Will you drive Miss Whitacre down to Dalkeith’s?”

On this occasion, Judith was glad not to be with Stuart on the way down to Cruban. She had no desire to make forced conversation or sit in uneasy silence. With the genial, red-bearded Angus, trivialities about last night’s Bali were enough.

During her lunch-hour, she pressed the evening dress in Dalkeith’s upstairs workroom and arranged it on a model. ‘'Mr. Cameron wants to see it,” she told the fitter.