Read Online Moreton's Kingdom by Jean S. Macleod - Free Book Online
Authors: Jean S. Macleod
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amazing stroke of luck,’ Charles admitted. ‘I lost you just north of Bassenthwaite because I was ahead of you. I had a fair idea you’d chose the Caldbeck road because it was the less obvious one, but I thought you’d gone straight off from the confectioner’s. Instead, I suppose you went back to the cottage for Sandy, and I should have thought of that. When I didn’t catch up with you I rejoined the motorway, which was my second mistake, though it did get me here ahead of you.’
‘You had no idea where I was going,’ she protested. ‘How did you feel so sure I would choose the Trossachs?’
‘Because you talked about them at the party and I took a chance when I discovered that Aunt Hattie was no longer available,’ he said.
‘I came by the west coast after Carlisle,’ Katherine admitted, ‘by Erskine Bridge and Loch Lomond, but I could quite easily have branched off to Oban—or anywhere else,’ she pointed out.
‘My luck was in,’ he said. ‘I felt it might be. There are very few roads—main roads, anyway—in this part of the Highlands which you could have taken, and I didn’t think you would stray into the byways. When you weren’t here, at the hotel, as I fancied you might be, I set out to look for you. It was still a chance in a million that I found you—or rather, Sandy.’
‘Abandoned?’ she said harshly. ‘But you must have known I’d be at my wits’ end when I got back to the car and found him missing.’
‘I’m afraid I didn’t think about that,’ he said coldly. ‘Not too much, anyway. I made my decision quickly because he’d wakened up, but I suppose I’d made up my mind from the beginning not to let you go quite so easily so that you could contact Coralie again.’
Katherine stepped across the threshold of Sandy’s room without answering him and he allowed her a brief glimpse of a tired little boy with chubby arms flung out across a flowered quilt and his clothes neatly folded on a nearby chair.
‘Touching, isn’t it?’ he queried.
She turned away.
‘I don’t know how you can speak so casually when you’re determined to take him away from Coralie. She’s his mother.’
‘Coralie appears to forget that when it suits her,’ he said grimly, closing the door on the sleeping child. ‘When you’ve had a wash and change there’ll be a meal waiting for you downstairs,’ he added. ‘Morag and her daughter are old friends of mine.’
‘Staunch allies, I suppose you mean!’
‘If you like,’ he agreed. ‘They would never let me down.’
Someone had carried her suitcase up to the adjoining room, but her car keys had not been returned. Impulsively she thought to ring and ask for them, and then she knew that they would still be in Charles Moreton’s possession. It was as effective a way as any to keep her prisoner.
Running a bath, she watched the brown spring water gushing from the taps, finding it soft and caressing to the touch as she stepped in. A shower wouldn’t have been quite so comforting at the ending of such a stressful day, she thought, luxuriating deliberately in this unexpected luxury in such a remote place, but eventually she had to step out and towel herself dry. There were movements in the next room, a rush of water as a shower was turned on, and the banging of a door as someone went downstairs. Charles, no doubt, in a hurry to brief his friends again before she reached the dining-room.
Almost reluctantly she left her own room, pausing for a moment at Sandy’s door to listen, but there was no sound from within. Sleep had taken over inevitably, and if she had driven too far and too quickly in one day she was quite sure that Sandy would rise refreshed in the morning. He was a sturdy little boy who would cope well enough with a couple of days’ motoring.
Two days, she thought, almost unable to believe that it was so short a time since she had met Charles Moreton for the first time and allowed him to escort her home from Millie
‘You had no idea where I was going,’ she protested. ‘How did you feel so sure I would choose the Trossachs?’
‘Because you talked about them at the party and I took a chance when I discovered that Aunt Hattie was no longer available,’ he said.
‘I came by the west coast after Carlisle,’ Katherine admitted, ‘by Erskine Bridge and Loch Lomond, but I could quite easily have branched off to Oban—or anywhere else,’ she pointed out.
‘My luck was in,’ he said. ‘I felt it might be. There are very few roads—main roads, anyway—in this part of the Highlands which you could have taken, and I didn’t think you would stray into the byways. When you weren’t here, at the hotel, as I fancied you might be, I set out to look for you. It was still a chance in a million that I found you—or rather, Sandy.’
‘Abandoned?’ she said harshly. ‘But you must have known I’d be at my wits’ end when I got back to the car and found him missing.’
‘I’m afraid I didn’t think about that,’ he said coldly. ‘Not too much, anyway. I made my decision quickly because he’d wakened up, but I suppose I’d made up my mind from the beginning not to let you go quite so easily so that you could contact Coralie again.’
Katherine stepped across the threshold of Sandy’s room without answering him and he allowed her a brief glimpse of a tired little boy with chubby arms flung out across a flowered quilt and his clothes neatly folded on a nearby chair.
‘Touching, isn’t it?’ he queried.
She turned away.
‘I don’t know how you can speak so casually when you’re determined to take him away from Coralie. She’s his mother.’
‘Coralie appears to forget that when it suits her,’ he said grimly, closing the door on the sleeping child. ‘When you’ve had a wash and change there’ll be a meal waiting for you downstairs,’ he added. ‘Morag and her daughter are old friends of mine.’
‘Staunch allies, I suppose you mean!’
‘If you like,’ he agreed. ‘They would never let me down.’
Someone had carried her suitcase up to the adjoining room, but her car keys had not been returned. Impulsively she thought to ring and ask for them, and then she knew that they would still be in Charles Moreton’s possession. It was as effective a way as any to keep her prisoner.
Running a bath, she watched the brown spring water gushing from the taps, finding it soft and caressing to the touch as she stepped in. A shower wouldn’t have been quite so comforting at the ending of such a stressful day, she thought, luxuriating deliberately in this unexpected luxury in such a remote place, but eventually she had to step out and towel herself dry. There were movements in the next room, a rush of water as a shower was turned on, and the banging of a door as someone went downstairs. Charles, no doubt, in a hurry to brief his friends again before she reached the dining-room.
Almost reluctantly she left her own room, pausing for a moment at Sandy’s door to listen, but there was no sound from within. Sleep had taken over inevitably, and if she had driven too far and too quickly in one day she was quite sure that Sandy would rise refreshed in the morning. He was a sturdy little boy who would cope well enough with a couple of days’ motoring.
Two days, she thought, almost unable to believe that it was so short a time since she had met Charles Moreton for the first time and allowed him to escort her home from Millie
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