Free Deception by Margaret Pargeter Page A

he had meant it as a compliment. Probably he was just stating a fact, as he
saw it. She "didn't think he would waste much time praising anybody.
    His green eyes, which
she thought saw far too much, studied her closely—and sceptically. 'I
would rather you'd been twenty years older, fifty instead of thirty, but
perhaps you'll be able to work harder than a woman twice your age.'
    'Yes, Mr Murray.'
Feeling she was being evaluated like a piece of farm machinery, it took all her
restraint to produce a meek reply. His unexpected appearance had unnerved
her, while his remarks aroused her resentment, but he remained arrogantly cool,
in no way disturbed.
    'How about making a
cup of tea?' His sardonic request breaking her reverie, starded her almost as
much as his presence had done. Quickly she averted her eyes from his dark face and reached blindly for the ketde. As
she filled it, she couldn't help stealing another glance at his kilt.
    'Haven't you seen a
man in a kilt before, Miss Andrews?'
    'Of course,' she
stammered, tearing his eyes away from him again, 'but never so-—so
close.'     
    'It's nothing to get
alarmed about,' he replied mockingly, without taking his eyes from her.
    His glance she could
feel boring into her, causing a peculiar sensation, like pins and needles to
run all over her skin. She swung back to him, a small flicker of desperation
driving her. 'Mr Murray!'
    'Yes, Miss Andrews?'
he encouraged sardonically.
    'Oh, nothing.'
Regretting her half anxious impulse as she met the green-flecked glitter in his
eyes, she sighed. 'I was merely going to repeat what I've just said, but I
realise you won't listen to me. I'm sure you shouldn't be out of bed. And after
all, I'm here.'
    His voice was full of
hard irony, extremely dry. 'Don't you think that's one good reason why I should
be out of bed. I have a would-be housekeeper to interview.'
    'Would-be...?'
    'Yes, Miss Andrews. No
need to look so surprised. I might be forced to take what I can get, for
Jamie's sake, but you surely don't expect to get a job without having to answer
a few questions first? And gaining, in return, a little information yourself?'
    'Information?' Pouring
boiling water in the teapot, Thea was scarcely aware of what she was doing.
    'Regarding wages, etc.
Free time, what your duties are to be.' He paused, his eyes roving
contemplatively over her, a slight frown creasing his forehead. 'Haven't you
ever been employed before, girl?'
    'Er—yes.' She
almost said no. Her lips had actually formed the first letter which she had
swallowed hastily, but she could see his suspicion was aroused.
    'I think you'd better
get yourself sorted out before ten, Miss Andrews, which is when I will see you.
If nothing keeps me outside, I'll be in the library, or what was once the
library, down the hall.'
    Nodding a reluctant
agreement, Thea poured the hot tea, then asked what time he took breakfast.    
    'About eight.' He was
still staring at her and she wished he
would look elsewhere. It wasn't as if there was any kind ness in his
eyes, and his steady regard confused her.
    'Am I to take Jamie to
school this morning?' she asked, as he finished his tea and reached for the
shabby tweed jacket which she noticed he had laid on the table beside him.
    'Would you?' For a
moment he looked relieved, as though he had found the task of regularly
ferrying a small boy to school irksome.
    'I enjoy
driving—and I promise to take care,' she added, again wondering at her
strange desire to reassure him. She was even more surprised at herself when he
merely nodded and went out, without a single word of thanks.
    By eight she had
porridge made and ready to serve, kippers under the grill and a pile of toast
waiting to go into the toaster. But only half of her mind was on breakfast, the
other half was with Logan, anxious about what he was doing. He didn't appear to
realise he was still ill, and she knew instinctively he was. The morning was
dark, she could hear the rain. What if he had