Baird’s voice spoke from behind them. ‘Allow me to tell her about the affair, Amy. It would give me great pleasure to acquaint Miss Campbell with the facts of Glencoe.’
Cathie quailed beneath the harshness of his tone and the cold glitter in his eyes, but she said nothing.
Baird settled himself in a chair, and at that moment Elspeth came in with a trayload of afternoon tea. She placed it on the table and began to fill the cups.
Amy attempted to use it as an excuse to deter Baird. ‘Ah, tea,’ she said happily. ‘Shall we keep the story until later, Baird? You can’t talk with your mouth full of Elspeth’s delicious shortbread and oatcakes.’
But Baird was not to be diverted. ‘There’s no time like the present,’ he informed Amy smugly.
‘In any case, Cathie probably knows the story,’ Amy said in a resigned manner.
Baird’s mouth twisted into a mirthless grin. ‘I doubt that the family dine out on it,’ he said.
‘So why don’t you get it off your chest?’ Cathie put the query in a scathing tone, instinct warning that it was a story she had no wish to hear.
‘Right—I’ll do just that,’ he declared with barely concealed relish. ‘It happened in the February of 1692—’
‘Good grief—and you’re still simmering over it?’ Cathie cut in.
He ignored the interruption. ‘At that time, William of Orange sat on the English throne. He decreed that by a certain date an oath of allegiance must be sworn by all the Highland chiefs.’
‘Aye—those chiefs were a troublesome lot,’ Elspeth put in. ‘Especially the ones who wanted their own King James on the throne. Another piece of shortbread, Baird?’ she offered, passing the plate. ‘It acts well as a sweetener to the thoughts.’
Baird sent her a bleak glance. ‘Does it indeed? I’m afraid it would take more than an entire batch of shortbread to sweeten my thoughts at the moment, Elspeth.’ He drew a hissing breath then continued, ‘Old Ian MacDonald set off from Glencoe, which is a valley surrounded by mountainous hills in northern Argyll, but snowstorms and blizzards—plus the treachery of deliberately sending him to the wrong place—made him arrive three days after the appointed first of January.’
‘Poor old man,’ Amy said in a voice that was full of sympathy.
Baird went on, ‘Nearly a month later about a hundred and twenty-eight soldiers arrived at Glencoe. They billeted themselves on the MacDonalds, living on friendly terms with them for about twelve days and, needless to say, eating them out of house and home. Then, in the early hours of February the fourteenth, in the midst of a snowstorm, they arose and dragged the MacDonalds from their beds, murdering all who were unable to escape. Many who did escape died of starvation and exposure out in the snowstorm, but a few got away to tell the tale.’
The story made Cathie feel sick. She began to tremble, her hand shaking so badly that it was necessary to put her cup of tea down before the contents slopped into the saucer. She also knew that Baird watched her with a glint in his eyes, making her suspect that worse was to come. Nor was she mistaken.
‘The instigator of that ghastly massacre, and leader of the military group, was Captain John Campbell of Glenlyon,’ he said in a voice that gritted with bitterness.
Cathie almost shrank visibly. She fought to control the emotions that were threatening to bring tears, and were also preventing her from thinking clearly. Why was he doing this to her? He didn’t appear to be a man who would deliberately hurt a complete stranger, therefore he must have a reason.
The thought forced her to ask a question. ‘You were submerged in all this horror and blood on the snow just as I rang the doorbell?’
He drew another hissing breath. ‘I was up to my neck in it. It had got right into me until I was positively seething with a mad rage,’ he admitted bluntly, and in a voice that still rasped with inner fury.
‘And when you opened the door there was a hated Campbell standing on the mat. Right?’
‘Right,’ he snarled, still frowning.
Cathie’s confidence returned to her, then her lip curled as she said with derision, ‘Mr MacGregor—your body might portray a fine physique, but your mind is pathetic when it allows events of so long ago to send you up the wall.’
‘You don’t understand,’ he gritted. ‘I have blood ties with the MacDonald clan.’
‘So, on their behalf, you’re hitting out at me. I’m sure they’ll be most grateful,’ she added scornfully, then turned quickly to Amy. ‘Please forgive me, Great-Aunt Amy, but this had to be said, because from the moment of my arrival this man’s manner towards me has bordered on rudeness—and all because I happened to have been born a Campbell. Really—it’s quite ridiculous to be wallowing in what happened three hundred years ago.’
Amy looked at her in silence for several moments, and then all she said was, ‘Please don’t call me Great-Aunt. It makes me feel a hundred. Just call me Amy.’
A smile of relief lit Cathie’s face. She had expected her outburst to have annoyed Amy to the extent of being shown the door, but that didn’t seem to be the case. However, she said, ‘Thank you—I’d like to call you Amy, but I doubt there’ll be much opportunity before I leave for Edinburgh to catch a flight to Heathrow, and from there to New Zealand.’
Amy’s face reflected her disappointment. ‘My dear—I thought you’d spend at least a few days with me!’ she exclaimed in dismay. ‘Where’s your suitcase?’
‘It’s at the Crieff Hydro where I stayed last night. I’ll sleep there again tonight and leave in the morning.’
Elspeth spoke quietly. ‘Goodness—isn’t that a very expensive hotel?’
‘Yes—but in this case the expense was warranted because it was so near to here.’
Amy began to plead with her. ‘Cathie, dear, please stay with us for a few days. I’ll be so unhappy if you refuse to.’
Baird spoke to Amy, his voice holding undisguised satisfaction. ‘You’re forgetting that Miss Campbell’s flight will be already booked.’ He stared into his cup as though awaiting the result of this remark.
He doesn’t want me to stay here, Cathie thought, a surge of defiance rising within her.
Elspeth leaned forward, her grey eyes regarding Cathie intently. ‘Is it booked—or is it an open ticket?’ she queried.
Cathie hesitated, then admitted, ‘Actually, it’s a Singapore Airlines ticket, but the date is still open.’
‘There now, that settles it,’ Amy beamed. ‘You can’t possibly travel this distance just for a cup of tea. Besides, there’s so much I want to know about your grandmother—all the things she considers too trivial to put in letters. So will you please stay so that we can get to know each other?’
Cathie found it impossible to ignore the plea in the older woman’s voice, and she also knew that Amy was right in asserting that the distance and expense warranted staying for a longer period. Further, there was the fact that her refusal to stay with Amy for a few days would cause her mother and grandmother deep disappointment, so she said, ‘Yes—thank you, Amy, I’d love to have a short period with you—so long as Mr MacGregor can tolerate being under the same roof as a Campbell.’
The glance she flicked across the room showed that his face had become quite inscrutable. And if, as she suspected, he was bubbling with anger inside, it was completely hidden.
Amy appeared to be oblivious to the tension between them as, smiling happily, she said, ‘Now, about your suitcase; Baird will take you in the car to collect it—and he’ll fix everything else.’
Cathie was quick