a resounding crack, and rolled some way down the carpet toward the couches. My armpits prickled as the whole Ball Committee leaped out of their seats as one, looking round for the source of the noise.
“Ohmigod! What was that?” Catriona gasped as her Jack Russell was catapulted onto the sofa. She made a grab for him as he started barking right at me. “Stay! Stay, Nipper!”
“Is that the ghost?” Ingrid squeaked. “Duncan keeps talking about a ghost!”
“There
is
no ghost, Ingrid,” said Sheila.
“Now, that is what I
mean
, ladies!” insisted Gordon. “We need to cover this place quite literally in plastic wrap or else face the consequences of loose antiques!”
The dog’s neck had gone all bristly and it was growling. Oh, God. Any minute now it was going to
launch
itself at me.
I was about to come crawling out with my hands up, but Sheila’s voice cut through the twittering. “Calm
down
. It’s probably just old Carlisle turning in his grave at the thought of Janet making the lassies wear cardigans. Now, if no one else is going to eat it, I’m going to have the chocolate biscuit …”
Any genteel shock about ghosts was instantly forgotten as the committee members squabbled over the two good foil-wrapped biscuits in the selection, and I grabbed the opportunity to slide out from under the table and scuttle toward the door.
*
Outside, the air had taken an even chillier turn, and I hugged Alice’s coat tight around me as I gazed at the wuthering landscape around me. The sky was a washed-out gray-blue and even the box hedges seemed pinched. Robert was on the phone, several windows down from the committee meeting. He was deep in conversation, and I hung back, not wanting to interrupt.
“No, I can’t get back till Monday earliest,” he was saying. “I’m sorry, but it’s a family commitment. And I’m on holiday, all right? I don’t need to say where …”
He turned round and saw me. “I’ve got to go,” he said. “E-mail me the details and I’ll try to look at them tonight. Okay, cheers.”
I walked self-consciously down the steps, trying not to slip on the moss clinging to the ancient stone. Under different circumstances, I’d have indulged in an imaginary jaunty cloche and an imaginary Daimler waiting for me at the bottom, but Robert’s expression nipped any flights of fancy in the bud.
“Why didn’t you just come in?” I asked. “You don’t need to lurk around in your own flowerbeds, surely?”
“What were
you
doing under a table?”
Touché.
“I was inspecting the dovetail joints.” I could feel myself turning red.
He glanced at me, amused. “I’ll take your word for it. I didn’t come in because I don’t have a spare hour to talk about kilts, and to be honest, I don’t like Catriona’s dog.” He pointed across the gravel drive toward a path into the woodlands around the castle. “And Nipper doesn’t like me.”
“Probably senses the competition,” I said as we set off down the drive at a brisk march. Robert had long legs, but then again so did I.
“There is no competition. Catriona’s made it clear to both of us that we’re equals in her affection. I might even be slightly behind. You have a dog?”
“No,” I admitted. “We had a cat, Cleo. Mum never forgave her for shedding. Fish only after that.”
Robert laughed. “Round here, if you don’t have a dog, you might as well have a tattoo saying, ‘I’m disreputable.’
“Has Janet tried to bully Major Muirhead into checking that the men in kilts have come adequately underdressed? There’s always one Young Farmer who slips through her net.”
“Do you mean—oh!” I squinted, unsure if he was teasing me, and not wanting to look stupid. “I thought that whole …
no pants
thing was just a rumor put about by the English.”
Robert lifted his eyebrow. “Alas, no. Janet was all for getting one of those mirrors on a pole, like the bomb squad used to use for checking under cars, but Mum
“Ohmigod! What was that?” Catriona gasped as her Jack Russell was catapulted onto the sofa. She made a grab for him as he started barking right at me. “Stay! Stay, Nipper!”
“Is that the ghost?” Ingrid squeaked. “Duncan keeps talking about a ghost!”
“There
is
no ghost, Ingrid,” said Sheila.
“Now, that is what I
mean
, ladies!” insisted Gordon. “We need to cover this place quite literally in plastic wrap or else face the consequences of loose antiques!”
The dog’s neck had gone all bristly and it was growling. Oh, God. Any minute now it was going to
launch
itself at me.
I was about to come crawling out with my hands up, but Sheila’s voice cut through the twittering. “Calm
down
. It’s probably just old Carlisle turning in his grave at the thought of Janet making the lassies wear cardigans. Now, if no one else is going to eat it, I’m going to have the chocolate biscuit …”
Any genteel shock about ghosts was instantly forgotten as the committee members squabbled over the two good foil-wrapped biscuits in the selection, and I grabbed the opportunity to slide out from under the table and scuttle toward the door.
*
Outside, the air had taken an even chillier turn, and I hugged Alice’s coat tight around me as I gazed at the wuthering landscape around me. The sky was a washed-out gray-blue and even the box hedges seemed pinched. Robert was on the phone, several windows down from the committee meeting. He was deep in conversation, and I hung back, not wanting to interrupt.
“No, I can’t get back till Monday earliest,” he was saying. “I’m sorry, but it’s a family commitment. And I’m on holiday, all right? I don’t need to say where …”
He turned round and saw me. “I’ve got to go,” he said. “E-mail me the details and I’ll try to look at them tonight. Okay, cheers.”
I walked self-consciously down the steps, trying not to slip on the moss clinging to the ancient stone. Under different circumstances, I’d have indulged in an imaginary jaunty cloche and an imaginary Daimler waiting for me at the bottom, but Robert’s expression nipped any flights of fancy in the bud.
“Why didn’t you just come in?” I asked. “You don’t need to lurk around in your own flowerbeds, surely?”
“What were
you
doing under a table?”
Touché.
“I was inspecting the dovetail joints.” I could feel myself turning red.
He glanced at me, amused. “I’ll take your word for it. I didn’t come in because I don’t have a spare hour to talk about kilts, and to be honest, I don’t like Catriona’s dog.” He pointed across the gravel drive toward a path into the woodlands around the castle. “And Nipper doesn’t like me.”
“Probably senses the competition,” I said as we set off down the drive at a brisk march. Robert had long legs, but then again so did I.
“There is no competition. Catriona’s made it clear to both of us that we’re equals in her affection. I might even be slightly behind. You have a dog?”
“No,” I admitted. “We had a cat, Cleo. Mum never forgave her for shedding. Fish only after that.”
Robert laughed. “Round here, if you don’t have a dog, you might as well have a tattoo saying, ‘I’m disreputable.’
“Has Janet tried to bully Major Muirhead into checking that the men in kilts have come adequately underdressed? There’s always one Young Farmer who slips through her net.”
“Do you mean—oh!” I squinted, unsure if he was teasing me, and not wanting to look stupid. “I thought that whole …
no pants
thing was just a rumor put about by the English.”
Robert lifted his eyebrow. “Alas, no. Janet was all for getting one of those mirrors on a pole, like the bomb squad used to use for checking under cars, but Mum
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