Haddow’s car when he had told her all about Braemar, made her add: “It was wonderful to be out and to see the moors for myself. They were purple and gold and red to-day,” she added softly.
Nigel Haddow smiled as he got in behind the wheel. “See you at the Gathering, Drew!” he said lightly. “Au revoir, Sprite!” he added to Tessa. “I’ll be looking out for you!”
Andrew stood in silence, watching the car disappear and appear again on the winding drive as it made its way between the rhododendron bushes, a red streak scintillating in the sunshine between the polished green of their leaves.
Tessa remained very still, conscious of the man by her side as she had never been before, aware of tension reaching almost to breaking point between them as each waited for the other to speak.
She did not know what to say. Words eluded her because, suddenly, there was nothing but feeling in her heart, and then conventional words came pouring out, as far removed from what lay deepest within her as the trivial round can be from the soul-shattering experience which comes only once or twice in a lifetime.
“I do so hope we can go to the Gathering, Andrew.
I hope we can all go. Your grandfather said that there was
no reason why we shouldn’t, and I think he meant that you had always gone, that it was a sort of—family event in your lives at Glenkeith.”
He looked down at her and as swiftly away again, with an expression in his eyes which chilled her and almost made her gasp for breath, and the viciousness of his reply surprised even himself.
“I have no time to waste with going to Games!” The harsh, uncompromising statement seemed torn out of the very roots of his being, but she had no way of recognizing that.
Swift, bitter retaliation, which was no more than the measure of her own hurt, rushed instantly to her lips.
“You would rather go to a cattle show?” she suggested, stung to the retort by the mere fact that her lips were trembling and her eyes were threatening to fill with ears.
“I really might have expected that.”
For a moment Andrew stood staring at her before he turned on his heel without a word and strode off, feeling that he had been held up to ridicule as a gauche farmer and angry about it when he had no real right to be.
What a woman thought of him—this one woman—was neither here nor there!
CHAPTER VI
DURING the next week, while she thought constantly of the great spectacle of the Highland Games, looking forward to it even in the face of a bitter disappointment because Andrew had refused to go with them, Tessa spent nearly all her time out of doors in the autumn sunshine, transferring to canvas or her painting block all the light and colour of the autumnal scene at Glenkeith and beyond.
In these bright September days, while the sun still retained some of its summer warmth, Daniel Meldrum could sit beside her in his chair, sometimes watching her as she worked, absorbed in her task, and sometimes just lying back and dozing in the shade of a rough stone dyke where she had found shelter for him out of the wind.
They asked nothing better than to be constantly
together, the old man with his race already run and the young girl with all her life still before her. A contrast, perhaps, but a renewal for Daniel of so many things.
He spoke to her more of her grandmother than her mother, Tessa realized, but that was possibly because he had known her grandmother better, or perhaps it was because old people lived farther and farther in the past as time went on.
Over and over again he told her about the Games until, when the great day finally dawned, she could scarcely suppress her excitement.
“You’ve seen it all before,” she said to Margaret as they sat over an early breakfast, “but it’s so new to me. Will all the men wear their kilts and have a ‘bonnet’ like Grandfather Meldrum’s?”
“I expect so,” Margaret laughed, “when they know you are to be there! They couldn’t
Nigel Haddow smiled as he got in behind the wheel. “See you at the Gathering, Drew!” he said lightly. “Au revoir, Sprite!” he added to Tessa. “I’ll be looking out for you!”
Andrew stood in silence, watching the car disappear and appear again on the winding drive as it made its way between the rhododendron bushes, a red streak scintillating in the sunshine between the polished green of their leaves.
Tessa remained very still, conscious of the man by her side as she had never been before, aware of tension reaching almost to breaking point between them as each waited for the other to speak.
She did not know what to say. Words eluded her because, suddenly, there was nothing but feeling in her heart, and then conventional words came pouring out, as far removed from what lay deepest within her as the trivial round can be from the soul-shattering experience which comes only once or twice in a lifetime.
“I do so hope we can go to the Gathering, Andrew.
I hope we can all go. Your grandfather said that there was
no reason why we shouldn’t, and I think he meant that you had always gone, that it was a sort of—family event in your lives at Glenkeith.”
He looked down at her and as swiftly away again, with an expression in his eyes which chilled her and almost made her gasp for breath, and the viciousness of his reply surprised even himself.
“I have no time to waste with going to Games!” The harsh, uncompromising statement seemed torn out of the very roots of his being, but she had no way of recognizing that.
Swift, bitter retaliation, which was no more than the measure of her own hurt, rushed instantly to her lips.
“You would rather go to a cattle show?” she suggested, stung to the retort by the mere fact that her lips were trembling and her eyes were threatening to fill with ears.
“I really might have expected that.”
For a moment Andrew stood staring at her before he turned on his heel without a word and strode off, feeling that he had been held up to ridicule as a gauche farmer and angry about it when he had no real right to be.
What a woman thought of him—this one woman—was neither here nor there!
CHAPTER VI
DURING the next week, while she thought constantly of the great spectacle of the Highland Games, looking forward to it even in the face of a bitter disappointment because Andrew had refused to go with them, Tessa spent nearly all her time out of doors in the autumn sunshine, transferring to canvas or her painting block all the light and colour of the autumnal scene at Glenkeith and beyond.
In these bright September days, while the sun still retained some of its summer warmth, Daniel Meldrum could sit beside her in his chair, sometimes watching her as she worked, absorbed in her task, and sometimes just lying back and dozing in the shade of a rough stone dyke where she had found shelter for him out of the wind.
They asked nothing better than to be constantly
together, the old man with his race already run and the young girl with all her life still before her. A contrast, perhaps, but a renewal for Daniel of so many things.
He spoke to her more of her grandmother than her mother, Tessa realized, but that was possibly because he had known her grandmother better, or perhaps it was because old people lived farther and farther in the past as time went on.
Over and over again he told her about the Games until, when the great day finally dawned, she could scarcely suppress her excitement.
“You’ve seen it all before,” she said to Margaret as they sat over an early breakfast, “but it’s so new to me. Will all the men wear their kilts and have a ‘bonnet’ like Grandfather Meldrum’s?”
“I expect so,” Margaret laughed, “when they know you are to be there! They couldn’t
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