Prisoner of Love (8 page)

“This business at the lodge is a toughening-up process,” Blair explained a little awkwardly to fill the gap in the conversation. “When we’ve been there for a week or two, I believe, your husband wants us to go farther afield, to take up old activities where possible.”

“Yes,” Laura said. “Didn’t you climb a lot at one time? You’ve been on several mountaineering expeditions, I understand.”

He nodded.

“Before my nerve was broken, climbing was part of my life. I don’t suppose I shall ever be able to tackle the heights again—the real mountains—and because of that, I can’t see how the local rocks are going to help very much.”

“Everything has to have a beginning,” Laura pointed out, “and this could be a new beginning. Julius has climbed a great deal in the Alps, I believe.”

“What about you?” he asked with sudden interest.

Laura shook her head.

“I haven’t had the opportunity, and I don’t think I would be much good if I had. Heights have never really attracted me.”

“Except the professional heights?”

The brief, cynical observation startled her into a new awareness of him. Perhaps she had felt that she was dealing with a sick child, but now she knew how wrong she was. Behind the indifference and the pain there was a sharply incisive brain, a mind as swiftly analytical as Julius’s own. But the suggestion he had just made had been unpardonable—unfair, too, when she thought about it!

She bit her lip, forcing back her anger.

“Of course, I admire people who have achieved something and made a success of their lives,” she agreed, “but success alone isn’t all one needs.”

He looked down at her, his eyes coldly gray.

“When did you discover that?” he asked briefly.

She drew in a quick, sharp breath.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized immediately. “I had no right to ask you that. Forgive me.” He rubbed a hand across his eyes as if he would obliterate a vision. “I have no right to ask you to overlook what I said. It was unforgivable.”

“I’m sure you didn’t mean it,” Laura suggested generously. “You’re tired. Perhaps you shouldn’t attempt to go to the lodge, after all.”

He smiled at her, the hardness passing out of his eyes.

“Physical exhaustion is easily remedied,” he said. “The trip to the lodge may help me sleep tonight without a sedative.”

When they turned to go out, Julius was standing waiting in the doorway.

CHAPTER
SEVEN

The
journey to the lodge high up in the glen took them a little over an hour. They had to leave the car on the narrow, tree-lined road not far from where the path went over the hill to Garvie, and climb by a rough track from there to the small, pine-sheltered plateau where the lodge stood in a clearing among the trees.

I
t was a comfortable place, built in the style of a Canadian log cabin by a former owner of Dunraven who had had the money to indulge such whims. It was sparsely but adequately furnished, and a small, gnarled hunchbacked man opened the door to Julius’s knock, ushering them into a spacious central living room from which several doors opened.

“Is he my personal Brownie?” Blair asked, gazing after the man’s retreating figure as he disappeared through one of the doorways. “You did say that I would have someone to help with the chores till the others get here.”

“Callum will take care of you, yes,” Julius said. “If you have the Gaelic, all the better. It will make him your willing slave.”

Blair smiled and they made a brief round of the little cabin. There were five bedrooms, each provided with a campcot, a comfortable chair and a table that could be used as a desk or for books. If the other furnishings were meager, it was more or less in keeping with the idea Julius had in mind of a
li
fe lived close to nature, each man contributing what he could to the general welfare of the whole. Blair Cameron would be alone up here for a week or two, it seemed; it was no doubt this reason that had prompted Julius to bring him to Dunraven, at least for the first few days.

“Do you think you wi
ll
be comfortable?” Julius asked as they stood out on the verandah overlooking the glen, their tour of inspection finished. “You will have the freedom of the moor when the shooting begins, and plenty of fishing in the local burns. Then, later on, perhaps, when you feel more fit, we might even tackle some rock climbing. Gervais Usherwood is coming up for a spell later in the year. He was with your Himalayan expedition, I believe?”

“Yes.” Blair looked away, and his mouth was a hard, tight line. “Why is he coming?”

Julius shrugged.

“He’s a man who likes to get away from London every now and then—and is an enthusiastic fisherman,” he said.

Laura wondered if Gervais Usherwood, the well-known explorer, was to be part of the cure. It would be a risk Julius would be prepared to take, introducing such a vigorous personality as Usherwood, whom Blair had known in the past, into his plan at what he considered to be the psychological moment.

They walked back down the glen, having taken their leave of the dark-visaged Callum, who had returned Blair’s Gaelic salute with a lengthy harangue in that ancient language which made Blair smile.

“What was that all about?” she asked. “You sounded like blood brothers vowing eternal loyalty to one another!”

“It was something like that!” Blair agreed. His smile was still warm and his eyes had a reminiscent look in them. “It’s years since I spoke the Gaelic, but it comes back quite easily.”

“It has a peaceful sound,” Laura reflected. “Is it difficult?”

“In some ways, yes. But you will soon pick up the odd word or two that will be useful to you—if you
are here long enough.”

He had glanced in Julius’s direction, involuntarily, perhaps.

“It might be an interesting pastime for Laura,” Julius said, “learning to speak your language.”

There was a small, uneasy silence. Laura tried to find something conventional to say but could not, and then, almost with relief, she saw two familiar dogs trotting toward them along the path.

They were the MacKellars’ labradors, wagging their tails in friendly greeting. Within seconds Cathie MacKellar put in an appearance around the bend in the path.

She stopped short at the sight of them, and she hesitated only momentarily before speaking.

“This is a surprise, Julius! I didn’t expect to see you quite so soon. I met your wife yesterday and we introduced ourselves, but she said you were in London—”

“And you very kindly invited her to Garvie in my absence,” Julius finished for her. “That was—generous of you, Cathie.”

They had not attempted to shake hands, yet it had been the thing Laura had liked most about the MacKellars. Their spontaneous friendliness had been characterized by firm handclasps, even though their introduction had been completely informal.

Julius turned to Blair.

“Miss MacKellar and her brother will be your nearest link with civilization, Cameron,” he explained. “Cathie—Doctor Cameron. He is coming up to the lodge for a week or two as a patient, so you will probably run into him.”

Cathie shook hands with Blair. Their eyes met and held for an instant, each taking slow measure of the other, each liking what they saw.

“You’ve certainly come at the best time of the year, Doctor Cameron,” Cathie said. “Do you fish?”

“I did, at one time.” Blair's slow smile lit his gaunt face. “It looks rather as if I’m going to revert to character up here!”

“There’s absolutely nothing like it for complete relaxation,” Cathie assured him. “Zachray and I fish for hours when we’re not too busy on the farm. At the moment,” she added, “we’re about to dip sheep. Come over,” she invited, including Laura in her quick smile, “if you would like to see us in action.”

“I’d like to very much,” Laura said, although Julius had remained silent. “Has Mr. MacKellar trained the pup to his satisfaction?”

“That will take weeks yet,” Cathie said, looking along the path as the dogs pricked their ears. “I’m on my way to meet them, as a matter
of fact.”

The pup came into view over the brow of the hill and yelping his delight bounded forward to greet them. A few minutes later Zachray followed, leading a small flock of ewes. They came bleating down the narrow roadway, scattering as the labradors went among them, but very soon the experienced dogs had them rounded up into a disciplined group grazing peacefully farther down the track.

For the first time Zachray MacKellar looked at Julius, and Laura’s heart stood still for a moment before it bounded on with a heavier beat. Zachray hated Julius. He scarcely tried to hide the fact, acknowledging him with the briefest of nods before his sister rushed in to introduce Blair.

He made the contact as brief as possible, excusing himself to go after the sheep.

Cathie turned back down the glen with them and they parted where the track to Garvie Lodge went over the hill. By that time Zachray and the ewes were well ahead, with all three dogs in attendance.

“I shall have to run to catch up!” Cathie said. “Do come over when you can,” she added to Laura. “And bring Doctor Cameron—and Julius.”

Julius’s lips were thin and tight when Laura looked at him, but he made no comment on the unexpected meeting as they drove back to Dunraven.

It was evident, even before they reached the house, that the extra journey and the strain of meeting strangers had tired Blair.

“I’m sending you straight to bed," Julius said. “Mrs. Finlayson will bring you something light to eat.”

Blair made no demur. He seemed relieved, in fact, at the thought of being able to have his meal alone. When they paused at the foot of the staircase he said briefly:

“I hope I’m not going to be a trouble to you, Behar. When I agreed to the experiment I had no idea that I would be thrusting myself into your family life.”

“This is a temporary measure,” Julius assured him. “You won’t be any trouble. When you are ready,” he added, "I'll come up and give you something to let you sleep.”

Blair nodded, looking at Laura for a moment.

“Goodnight, Mrs. Behar,” he said.

“Goodnight, Doctor.”

Laura watched the thin, stooped figure ascending the stairs and her heart caught in a deep wave of pity.

“There
must
be something we can do for him, Julius,” she said. “If it’s only to give him back his confidence in himself.”

“That is the whole answer,
”
he returned dryly. “The final step. There’s quite a lot of ground to cover between then and now.”

He gave his orders to Morag and followed Laura into the dining room.
“I’
m sorry I had to break up our honeymoon like this,” he apologized, “but now that I have come back I think that we might be able to prolong our original plan. There’s no reason why we shouldn’t stay up here for another week or two while we are about it.”

“There’s Lance,” Laura mentioned, and was surprised and a little hurt when he smiled.

“My dear Laura, Lance can very well wait,” he said. “Holmes is quite capable of looking after him, I assure you.”

“But it isn’t quite the same,” Laura protested. “It was a promise that he should come here. We didn’t expect to be parted for more than a fortnight—”

“Parted?” He turned as he drew out her chair for her, the dark intensity of his face making her heart miss a beat. “You use the word loosely, surely?”

Laura sank into the chair, not quite knowing what to say.

“Lance will have to understand that you have other commitments now, Laura,” Julius added. “He is not a child.”

“He’s fourteen,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “I feel that he is still young enough to need my personal care and some of the love he lost when his mother died.”

The appeal did not appear to reach him.

“You spoil the boy,” he said coldly. “The best thing that can happen to him is to be sent away to school.”

“We have arranged for that,” she said in a small, frozen voice. “But this, after all, is the holidays.”

Morag came in with the soup and the conversation ended there, but the memory of Julius
’
s harshness lingered insistently in Laura’s mind. It was almost as if Julius resented Lance in some peculiar way; almost as if he were jealous of their affection for one another.

The whole thing was absurd, she tried to assure herself. Possessive Julius might be, but jealousy was surely far too primitive an emotion for a man of his stature and brilliance. He would be far above such things as jealousy and deceit.

Shaken by the thought, Laura lifted her own coffee cup, but the action made her immediately aware of the unsteadiness of her hands and she put it down again and sat staring at it, her mind a blank. Too much had happened in far too short a time, she thought.

“You’re tired,” Julius said. “We’ll have a quick walk around the terrace and then you can go to bed. I have a letter to write before I come up, but it won’t take me long. It may save me a return to London in the near future if I get it off right away.”

Laura found her coat and walked to the open doorway to wait for him. It was after nine o’clock, but the twilight lingered, as it would practically all night through. The short northern nights, with their pale, opalescent glow, were still a wonder to her, and as they walked down to the shore she felt that this lovely land could so easily be a place of dreams come true. The haunting beauty of it had already captured her heart and its poignant appeal would draw her back again and again, so that she might understand all it had to offer, in time.

“Oh, Julius!” she breathed, “it’s so lovely here! It’s—almost as if time had stopped and one could stand and listen to life!”

He drew her to him with open possessiveness in his eyes now. “Time can stop for us, Laura,” he said, “if you wish it. We needn’t go on from here.”

She leaned her head back against his shoulder, smiling serenely. “You wouldn’t be content with that!” she told him. “There’s your career. That must go on, Julius.”

“It needn’t bind me to London,” he said unexpectedly. “We could make this our permanent home. As things are, I can be in London for a consultation within twenty-four hours. I could do most of my work fro
m
here.”

“But, Julius!” she protested, “you would be out of touch.”

“Not necessarily. In the age of the airplane, nowhere is really ‘out o; touch,’ as you put it. However,” he added, “these are decisions for th
e
future. Tonight we can ‘stand and listen to life’!”

They walked slowly back across the foreshore. The night was very still, but suddenly a bird rose from somewhere ahead of them. Disturbed, it streaked out across the glassy water, flying low and crying its warning t
o
the listening night.

“What was it?” Laura asked unsteadily.

Julius shrugged.

“An oystercatcher, perhaps, or a peewit. I wouldn’t know,” he admitted “There are so many birds here, breaking the silence. Shall we go in?
”

She went to hang up her coat, and when she followed him to the stud
y
on the far side of the hall she found him filling a hypodermic syringe from
a
small phial on his desk. A cupboard stood open on the wall behind him, ful
l
of a selection of drugs, and she noticed it with some surprise, saying nothing, however, as he held up the syringe to the light to test it.

“I’ll slip upstairs and give this to Cameron,” he said. “He may want to get to sleep before I finally turn in for the night.”

“Can I do it for you, Julius?” Laura asked. “It would save your going up if you want to write—”

He swung around before she had finished the sentence, a light of cold fury in his eyes.

“Allow me to do my own work, Laura,” he said. “When I want you to look after my patients for me I shall ask you.”

Stunned and desperately hurt by the harsh and wholly unexpected rejoinder, Laura turned away.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a small, shaken voice. "I thought I might be saving you time when I am quite able to give an injection.”