Free The Legacy of Lochandee by Gwen Kirkwood

whole families wiped out. We must be thankful that we are alive and can live in a free country.’
    Quietly Bridie pushed back her chair and gently took Ewan’s arm. He was almost asleep.
    â€˜I’ll see him to bed,’ she nodded at her mother.
    â€˜And I’ll read him a bedtime story,’ Nick volunteered, seizing the opportunity to spend a little of the evening alone with Bridie while their elders talked of times past.
    Ewan no longer needed bedtime stories. He could read his own, but he was asleep almost before he tumbled into bed. Nick seized Bridie around her waist and drew her close as soon as they were alone together in the warm kitchen.
    â€˜I can’t wait for us to be married, Bridie,’ he whispered into the soft hollow of her throat. ‘Soft as silk your skin is …’ He felt her trembling response. He knew she loved him almost as much as he loved her, but he was still afraid he might lose her. ‘Expect to get permission to build our house, I do, in a couple of weeks. Your father’s land it is now. I shall have to buy the ground from him.’ He felt Bridie stiffen slightly in his arms. ‘All this,’ he waved a hand towards the window and the farmyard beyond, ‘means so much to you, I know, bach. But us, together, alone … There’s all I want, see.’ His voice was tense, his dark eyes penetrating. ‘Not to share you with your family, not all the time. Can you understand that?’
    â€˜Yes, oh yes, I do understand,’ Bridie whispered as his mouth claimed hers. Nick’s Welsh accent was always more pronounced when his emotions were involved. She could feel the passion in him, his desire as he moulded her body to his own. She leaned away from him, still in the circle of his arms.
    â€˜We’ll set the date for our wedding, I promise, just as soon as you get all the approvals through, Nick …’
    â€˜A date! You agree? Really mean it, do you, Bridie? My love …’ His kisses were gentler now. He knew the sacrifice she was making, giving up her home and the farm to live in a little house beside the garage. ‘Someday, somehow … I’ll make it up to you, my darling girl.’
    Rachel did not sleep well that night. She was restless and her thoughts were on Mr Murray, the vase, and on Minnie Ferguson who had left it to her as a last treasured gift. She did not need the vase, or anything else to remind her of the old lady who had treated her with all the love and kindness of an adopted granddaughter. Minnie had taught her the skills of the house and the dairy until she was as competent at 16 as any woman. Inevitably her thoughts turned to Gertrude Maxwell, the woman who had treated both herself and Ross with such malice. She shuddered in the darkness, but eventually she drifted into sleep. Still tired when it was time to rise, her mind was clearer and, as she washed and dressed in the bathroom, she reached a decision, which she would tell no one except Mr Murray.

Chapter Six
    I T WAS BRIDIE WHO drove Mr Murray to the station to catch the train south the following morning. When she returned, she told her mother she and Nick had decided to set a date for their wedding.
    â€˜Nick is just waiting for all the agreements before he instructs Mr Niven to buy the plot of land. He’ll have to negotiate with Dad now he is the owner, I suppose? Unless the solicitor withheld the plot? Nick was supposed to have an option on it, I think.’
    â€˜I don’t know,’ Rachel said absently.
    â€˜Are you all right, Mum? You look very pale, tired too …’ Bridie frowned.
    â€˜I’m fine. I slept badly last night. I-I think I might go into town this afternoon, if you’ll be around for Ewan getting home from school?’
    â€˜Yes, of course. It would do you good to have a look around the shops. There’s a few of the new fashions coming in with the swirling