she had physical problems. Her legs would never hold her up.
He could… He could…
He could do nothing. It was none of his business.
More lying on his satin pillows and thinking. He was head of the clan, he thought. Lord of Loganaich. Laird. It behoved him to care for…
For the relic?
The thought of Susie as a relic was so crazy he laughed and threw off his covers and headed for the shower. He was being dumb. He’d go and find Marcia and show her this crazy castle from stem to stern. They’d smile about how ridiculous it was, they’d talk about practicalities and then she’d bring him up to speed on how the office was coping without him. Marcia was just what he needed.
Right.
Marcia was already in the kitchen. As were Susie and Rose and Taffy. Quite a party. Hamish opened the door and they all turned toward him and glared.
Uh-oh.
A more cowardly man would have retreated. There were obviously issues abroad here. Women’s issues?
‘We have,’ Susie said cautiously, as if she wasn’t sure she could trust her voice, ‘no soy milk. We have a case of bananas but they’re the wrong sort of fruit. Cumquats make the wrong sort of juice and the oranges aren’t ripe yet. And Marcia doesn’t like the idea of eating strawberries that have been lying on mulch. If you’d warned me Marcia was on a low-carb diet I could have got things in.’
‘Low carb’s easy,’ he said, cautious as Susie and with a wary look at his beloved. ‘I mean, steak’s low carb.’
‘Steak for breakfast?’ Marcia shook her head in disbelief. ‘Honestly, Hamish, just lend me your car keys and I’ll go fetch what I need from the supermarket.’
‘It’s five miles down the road and it doesn’t open until nine,’ Hamish said. ‘Can’t you have toast?’
‘The locals eat porridge,’ Susie said, lifting a pot onto the range. ‘I can recommend it.’
‘It’s hardly low carb,’ Marcia retorted.
‘Hey, Marcia, it’s hardly a hotel yet,’ Hamish said uneasily. ‘It wouldn’t hurt to break your diet for a morning.’
‘I’d prefer not to break my diet,’ Marcia said, but she smiled, ready to be accommodating. ‘It’s OK, guys. I’m not hungry.’
‘You’re too thin,’ Susie muttered.
‘A woman can never be too thin.’
‘Yeah, you’d know,’ Susie muttered, and banged her pan on the range. Then she took a grip. ‘Sorry. That sort of just came out. I was too thin for a while and it’s scary.’
‘I have no intention of heading down the eating disorder road,’ Marcia said. ‘I have too much control.’
‘I’m sure you have,’ Susie said, but the eyes she turned on Hamish were suddenly bleak. ‘I’ve made a big pot of porridge. Do you want some?’
‘Yes, please.’ It was the least a man could do in the circumstances, he thought, but then he saw the sudden gleam behind Susie’s eyes and thought, Uh-oh.
‘A porridge-eating laird,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘Finally.’
‘I’m back on toast tomorrow.’
‘I’m sure you are.’ There was definitely laughter there now. She was like a chameleon, he thought. Swinging from happy to sad and back again.
He didn’t want her to be sad. Had she been too thin? When? After Rory’s death? Hell, he hated to think of what she’d been through.
‘Have you been working up in your bedroom?’ Marcia asked, and he blinked.
‘Um…yeah.’
‘Did you see the Euro dropped almost two cents against the greenback overnight?’
‘And Taffy slept till dawn without howling once,’ Susie added. ‘It has indeed been a busy night.’
He couldn’t keep up with this conversation. He gave up and sat, and Susie placed a bowl of porridge in front of him. He ladled honey on top, and cream, and he sprinkled it with cinnamon, as he’d seen Susie do with hers every morning, while Marcia looked on with distaste.
‘Don’t look,’ he told her. ‘Have a coffee.’
‘At least there’s a decent coffee-maker,’ she conceded. ‘Though where you get good beans…you know, that’ll drive down the price of this place as a hotel. You won’t be able to source reasonable foodstuffs.’
‘I’m eating my porridge out in the garden,’ Susie announced, a little too loudly. She lifted Rose’s high chair-with Rose in it-and hoisted it toward the door.
‘Let me help,’ Hamish said, getting to his feet, but Susie was already outside.
‘Thanks, but I’m fine on my own.’
‘You will let me help you down to the beach later on?’
She hesitated, and he could see her reluctance to accept help warring with her huge desire to swim.
‘Thank you,’ she muttered. ‘That would be…nice.’ She carried Rose further out, then dived back for her porridge.
‘Susie…’ Marcia started, but Susie was back out the door.
‘I can’t leave Rose in her high chair alone.’
‘I just thought you might be interested…’
‘In what?’
‘I’ve been in touch with the hotel assessors,’ she said. ‘They’ll arrive tomorrow. Can you make yourself available?’
Susie hardly paused. She was carrying her bowl of porridge, walking out the door with Taffy following loyally behind.
‘Of course,’ she said with dignity over her shoulder. ‘I promised. And after that I’ll go home.’
Marcia took her Blackberry to the beach. ‘Hey, there’s a signal here,’ she announced, and was content. She lay in her gorgeous bikini and communed with her other world.
As he should, too, Hamish thought, but he was busy watching Susie. He’d swum less than usual this morning, coming back to the towels to keep Marcia company-but Marcia didn’t need company. She never did. She was going to make an excellent partner, he decided as he sat next to her beautifully salon-tanned body. She was gorgeous, she was clever and she was totally independent.
She was just what he needed.
Susie was at the other end of the beach-of course. She was sitting in the shallows with Rose. Rose was perched on her mother’s knees, kicking out at each approaching wave, as if by kicking it she could stop it coming.
Taffy was barking hysterically at incoming waves, barking until the wave was almost on her then putting her tail between her legs and scooting up the beach just in front of the white water. Then she barked in triumph as the wave retreated-only to have it all happen again.
Hamish discovered he was grinning as he watched them.
But they weren’t perfect.
Marcia was perfect.
What was he about, making comparisons?
‘I’ll go over and give Susie a break from childminding so she can have a swim,’ he told Marcia, and she raised her eyebrows in amused query.
‘You? Look after a baby?’
‘I can change a diaper,’ he said, almost defiantly, and her smile widened.
‘If I were you I’d never put that on your curriculum vitae. It’s not the sort of ability that’ll get you a job in our world.’
Our world. He looked down at her Blackberry. Right.
‘Do you want help childminding?’ she asked, and it was time for his brows to hike.
