Read Online The Tartan Touch by Isobel Chace - Free Book Online

was taken aback by her frankness, “Oh, but I wouldn’t!” I denied hotly “It isn’t like that at all!” I looked anxiously at Andrew for help. His face was completely inscrutable.
    “Don’t make trouble, Mary,” he said almost casually.
    “I’m sorry,” she apologised immediately. She laughed suddenly . “I might have known that you’d be managing things in your own devious way!” she added brightly. “Poor Kirsty! Someone ought to warn her!”
    Andrew smiled slowly. “Do you mean to say you haven’t?” he asked her.
    “I told her you are quite the ladies’ man! That they flock around you hopefully on all and every occasion! But I didn’t say a word beyond that!”
    “Is there a word to say?” He sounded surprised.
    “Oh, Andrew!” she protested. “What about—”
    “Enough! Enough!” he pleaded.
    “I should think so! I chimed in. “It’s a shameless conversation—”
    Mary laughed outright. “ Kirsty,” she giggled, “there’s nothing shameless in sizing up the opposition! It’s one of the few things I learned at my mother’s knee!”
    “Then she should have had something better to teach you,” I observed firmly. “It isn’t fitting for either of us to be discussing Andrew’s— ” I broke off, not knowing how to put it.
    “Andrew’s affairs?” Mary riposted sweetly.
    It was I who blushed. “I’d not be so brazen!” I told her, my nose in the air.
    She laughed delightedly, “I wish my mother could hear you! Andy, I think you did yourself a bit of good marrying Kirsty!”
    Andrew’s grey eyes slid over my face. “So do I,” he said gently.
    I felt my heart hammering within me, Now here was a fine thing, I thought, if his play-acting could have such an effect on me! I frowned fiercely down at my plate.
    “I think perhaps we’ll ask Miss Rowlatt to Mirrabooka when Margaret comes,” Andrew remarked slowly.
    Mary nodded at him acutely. “You should have told me,” was all she said. “I won’t tease any more, Andy. I promise.”
    There was no mistaking the deep affection he had for her as he looked at her for a long moment. “I knew I could count on you,” he said at last.
    Mary nodded. “Tit for tat? I’m counting on your support later on?”
    “You’re still only seventeen,” he reminded her doubtfully.
    “I won’t change my mind, not in a million years, so why not now?” she said sadly.
    “We’ll see,” he told her, “in a month or so.”
    Mary’s eyes lit up. “I’ll hold you to that!” she said with a whoop of joy.
    I wished I knew what they were talking about. I felt a stranger, shut out from their lives because I knew so little about them. The whole evening had been strange, I thought. The homestead, as they all called it, had come as a shock to me. It was so comfortable and well furnished. It scarcely seemed appropriate in the middle of a great, empty desert. Then, too, Mary had, told me that they always changed into clean clothes for dinner. It seemed odd to me to eat in state, with the candles lit and the silver shining on the table, when outside there was nothing but space and sheep. My father would have thought it vanity, but I was not so s u re. It was pleasant for the whole family to meet together at least once a day, and it was a courtesy to each other to be clean and tidy for the occasion.
    The meal itself had come as a surprise too. We had begun with soup, which had been followed by roast lamb and a multitude of vegetables. Andrew finished his meal with biscuits and cheese, but Mary and I both ate fresh fruit. To my great surprise, Andrew took an apple himself and peeled it, cutting it into neat quarters, which he put on my plate.
    “I think you’ll find it crisp and juicy,” he said gently. “Our Australian apples are getting quite famous.”
    I was very aware of him as I ate the apple. It was as if I had never seen a man before, and whether the apple was good or bad, I couldn’t have told a soul!
    My first night at Mirrabooka