Free Deception by Margaret Pargeter

small sitting room. Martha had explained that it was the
housekeeper's official suite. Unfortunately it was too shabbily furnished
to be half as grand as Martha made it sound.
    Thea hadn't felt quite
so amused when Martha had gone on to say that the housekeepers at Drumlarig
were expected to spend their free time, if they ever had any, either here or in
the kitchen. Then Thea had recalled what Logan Murray had said about her taking
the freedom of the house —until he was up and about!
    Plain enough speaking!
Thea shrugged as she quickly sluiced her sleepy face in cold water. No one
hinted in this house. The sitting room was not very comfortable but, given
time, she could probably improve it. It might, even as it was, be no worse than
the huge, neglected rooms downstairs. Yesterday she had peeped in one or two of
them and had not been impressed by what she had seen. Two of the downstairs
rooms, she had noticed, were not even furnished. There were all the signs that
they had been, but now they were quite bare and empty.
    Putting on the skirt
and sweater she had brought with her, Thea brushed out her hair and tied it
back, so that it lay like a sleek, shining
cap against her small, graceful head, guaranteed, she felt sure, to make
her look older. Little did she realise it had quite the opposite effect. Then,
just as she was, her grey eyes sparkling, her smooth cheeks glowing pink
from the cold water, she ran downstairs. She would get the kitchen fire going
before taking up more logs for Logan Murray, then get them both a nice hot cup
of tea.
     
      CHAPTER
FOUR
    It wasn't
until she reached the kitchen that Thea felt the first stirrings of an
unwelcome premonition. But not until she pushed open the door did she realise
why she had gone suddenly cold as she crossed the hall. Logan Murray was
sitting on the edge of the wide, scrubbed table, calmly observing the
cessation of all movement in his new housekeeper's limbs.
    From this distance
Thea stared at him, knowing it must be stupid to be so stunned but unable to
help it. Logan Murray was here, downstairs and dressed in his kilt, dominating
the room. Dominating herself, too, it would appear, as she was strangely bereft
of speech. He looked grey and strained, but he had about him an air of
determination, an arrogance of bearing. Thea recognised, with a sinking heart,
that Logan Murray up was an entirely different proposition from the man in bed,
and even there he had been a man to be reckoned with.
    'Good morning.' His
voice, cool and clipped, was a sure indication that nothing had been missed in
his education. He broke the silence, which Thea was not immediately capable of doing, in a way she envied. He didn't
say she was too early or accuse her of being late, he simply acknowledged
her, from his superior position, as he might have done Martha or Duncan. But
for them, she was certain, there would have been more warmth.
    Thea was so surprised
she could only stand dumbly and stare. She took in the breadth of his shoulders
under his rough woollen shirt, the strength and suppleness of his tall body
without really seeing anything. He might look good in a kilt, but he had ruined
all her plans. She had seen herself nursing him for several more days, until he
had come to realise she was indispensable. Now here he was, ready, she
suspected, to go out and tend his stock. He obviously had no intention of going
back to bed and allowing her to look after him.
    'Mr Murray,' she found
her voice at last, 'you aren't well enough to be up! Do you think it's wise?'
    'Probably not,' he
agreed, 'but I don't doubt I'll survive. My animals might not, though, if they
don't receive proper attention.'
    'You have a shepherd.
He's around.'
    'I also have a
housekeeper, it appears, who's already trying to run my life. You might
have proved yourself useful, Miss Andrews, but I hope you know where to stop.'
    While he stared at her
narrowly, Thea digested this. He had mentioned her usefulness, but she doubted
if