Read Online The Laird of Lochandee by Gwen Kirkwood - Free Book Online

hastened to their attic room, neither of them ready for an inquisition.
    Rachel soon feigned sleep wanting only to relive the moments of ecstasy she and Ross had shared. Mentally she hugged herself with joy, hearing again the words Ross had breathed against her warm skin – over and over.
    â€˜I love you, I love you. Now you are mine. I love you, my own Rachel.’
    Her half-waking, half-sleeping reverie was disturbed by Meg’s trembling body. Gradually she became aware Meg was trying to stifle her sobs. Rachel lay still, afraid to move. She sensed Meg did not want to share her troubles but her sorrow dimmed her own happiness a little. Meg was so kind and caring, surely she deserved to be happy too.
    Meg knew she could be happy with Peter and his little family, but her mother was so vehemently opposed to the idea. She was wise enough not to criticise Peter outright but instead she reminded Meg of the burden of having an invalid in the house, of the extra work, of her own aging body. Her father never grumbled, rarely asked for attention and he had never lost his whimsical smile. His eyes still crinkled with humour and Meg wondered how a man could ever be a burden if you loved him. Did her mother love her father? Did she love any of them, Meg pondered with a bitterness which was alien to her nature. In her heart she knew her mother was trading on the love and loyalty she had always shown towards her father. He had always been a kindly, caring parent and she would never neglect him now that he was the one who needed care. Meg felt torn between loyalty to her parents and her love for Peter but as she sobbed into her pillow she knew she was reaching the limit of her endurance.

Chapter Six
    W ILLIE ’ S FATHER-IN-LAW , John Landell, often brought a bundle of newspapers and magazines when he came down from the city. Cameron Maxwell and Ross liked to read them, even though the news was often old. Towards the end of July Ross looked up from one of the papers. There was a challenge and defiance in his blue eyes.
    â€˜It’s fifty years since the first Bank Holiday. I think we ought to have a holiday too’
    â€˜Holiday?’ Gertrude exclaimed, ‘I never heard of such a thing!’
    â€˜Mr Landell’s hiring a charabanc. He’s taking Ruth and the children and two of his friends to the coast.’
    â€˜Is he?’ Cameron looked up with interest. ‘What about Willie?’
    â€˜Mr Landell wants him to go too, but Willie didn’t think he could leave us to do the work. Of course he wouldn’t feel guilty if he thought we were having an afternoon at the fair.’
    â€˜John Landell might have bought himself a bit of land but he doesn’t understand anything about farming,’ Gertrude muttered. ‘There’s always work to do.’
    â€˜Well I think it would be good for Willie,’ Ross insisted. ‘I told him we could manage the milking. But it would be a pleasant change if Meg and Rachel and I could go to the Bank Holiday Fair. We could take the pony and trap. We would be back for milking.’
    â€˜I shall be at the butter churn while you are idle. And who would look after the hens and pigs, and take care of him ?’ She glowered at her husband. Meg winced at her disparaging tone. How could her mother talk about her father and the hens and pigs in the same breath?
    â€˜I will stay at home and look after father.’
    â€˜Eh, lassie I don’t need a nursemaid. Just leave me a bite to eat and pull the table a bit nearer. A change would do you more good. You look pale and wan these days. Are you well enough, Meg?’
    â€˜I’m well, Father,’ Meg assured him but her smile was forced. Rachel knew Meg was often restless at nights and she looked pale and weary in the mornings.
    â€˜You would like to go to the Fair, wouldn’t you Rachel?’ Ross asked anxiously. ‘You’re very quiet.’
    â€˜I don’t think my best