Saving Nathaniel (2 page)

If only you could be this tidy at home, Becca,
she thought.

Mackie folded up his newspaper and revealed a small, red notebook hidden beneath. Megan swallowed down a fleeting panic. The notebook was hers. In her rush to leave the previous day she had inadvertently left it behind. It contained details of all her chores and responsibilities - and a few notes of interest about Mackie himself, including some personal comments. She groaned inwardly.

'How did Rebecca manage to rope you into standing in as my
châtelaine
?' he said, drawing her attention off the book and back to him.

'I owed Becks…Rebecca, a favour. And if you don't mind me saying, that was a quaintly old-fashioned term you just used.'

'I am old-fashioned. Would you prefer some other title?
'

'A rose by any other name…'
She took long, delicate sip at her coffee, feeling his eyes roving over her.

'I suppose your sister told you all about me,' he said after a short pause.

She nodded. Rebecca had indeed given her an inkling of what to expect of Mackie's personality, of his likes and dislikes, his peccadilloes and his eccentricities. It was quite a list. 'She told me everything she thought I ought to know.'

He grimaced. 'Ouch! That leaves plenty of scope for misinterpretation.'

'Not at all. It was all perfectly clear.'

He looked her directly in the eyes and stroked his chin thoughtfully between finger and thumb. She read the intention immediately; he was going to test her. She steeled herself. Here it comes, she thought. Steady...

'So she will no doubt have told you that I can be a wee bit…let's say, fussy,' he said.

'Yes.'

'Difficult, one might say demanding almost.'

'Yes and yes.'

Don't forget pedantic, fastidious and downright pernickety
, she added silently.

'And that doesn't put you off?'

'Not in the least.'

'I have high standards, some might say too high.'

'So do I, and trust me there's nothing here I can't manage.'

He raised his eyebrows. 'Is that a fact?'

'Yes,' she said confidently. 'I've worked and lived with the masters of
difficult and demanding all my life a
nd from what I've seen so far I don't think
you'll
give me too much cause for concern.'

'I see. That's your first impression of me, is it? Manageable?' He took off his glasses, folded them and put them in his shirt pocket. He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms again.

'Maybe,' she said, 'I'll have to wait and see. I like to take my time and wait for the true colours to show through.'

'And what colours are you looking for?'

'That would be telling.'

'Then how will you know when you see them?'

'Oh, I always know. It's a gift.'

Mackie sucked air through his teeth. 'Hmmm, I can see I'm going to have to watch myself with you.'

'You can try, but I'll still know.'

A wry smile played on his lips. 'Aye, somehow I think you just might.'

Their eyes remained locked until, suddenly aware that their casual exchange had somehow veered toward the flirtatious, Megan averted hers to concentrate them on her coffee cup.

Mackie picked up the notebook and fanned through the pages. 'This is a handy little thing,' he said. 'I had a read of it last night. Some very interesting points have been made.'

Megan stirred her drink with a teaspoon. 'It was Rebecca's idea. She thought it might help me get things in order. Prior preparation is the key to efficiency after all.'

He flicked the pages again. 'And it might well be if it weren't for a few key points you missed.'

'I thought we'd covered just about everything.'

'Not quite.' He leaned forward and rested his arms on the table. With barely a pause, his manner switched from one of friendly welcome to being totally businesslike. Whatever he had to tell her was obviously of utmost importance and it would be in her best interests to listen and take note. She followed the cue and immediately gave him her full attention.

'Assuming I do take you on,' he said. 'And I haven't yet made that decision, there are a few other points you might wish to take on board.'

'I'm listening.'

'First off, don't answer the phone, not even the extension. It won't be for you. I work from home most of the time and more than likely any phone calls will be business. Even if I am home, let it ring. The answer machine will pick up. You may make calls connected with deliveries, orders et cetera, but ask me first. No personal calls. Use your mobile for that.' He didn't give her a chance to explain that she didn't have a mobile phone to use.

'Next point,' he continued. 'As you already know, Struan Lodge is a gey big house and you'll have the run of it – except one room. I have a study at the front of the house. It is to be considered completely private and out of bounds. If the door is closed I expect not to be disturbed unless it is a most dire emergency. You can go in there to clean by invitation only. Is that clear?'

'Absolutely.' She made sure her impassive expression did not betray the fact she had already violated his sacred space the previous day.

'As far as you are concerned, how you structure your day to do your work…once you get here of course, is entirely up to you. You are free to come and go as you please and I have no interest in the ins and outs of your shopping trips.'

She nodded despite feeling slighted by the fact he felt it necessary to mention her lateness again.

'On the other hand,' he continued, 'I feel it only reasonable I should tell you whether I will be at home or not. I tend to go away at short notice and it can be for a couple of days at a time.'

She nodded again. 'Fair enough.'

'The same working hours will stand; weekdays only eight 'til six; weekends by arrangement.'

'As long as you give me plenty of notice.'

'If I can,' he said. 'I wouldn't want to interfere with your social life.'

She snorted. 'There's not much chance of that, I don't have one.'

'Then there'll be no problem, will there?' he said flatly. '
Have I made everything clear?'

'As crystal.'

'You don't want me to go over anything again?'

'No.'

'Good,' he said. 'Is there anything you want to ask me?'

She mirrored his posture. 'Yes, three things.'

'I'm listening.'

'Firstly, I know you're expecting me to cook for you, but I warn you now, I don't do fancy stuff, just plain and simple. If you're expecting some exotic
Cordon Bleu
concoction you're going to be disappointed. If that's going to be a problem, I'd rather you tell me now.'

He shook his head slowly. 'No. Whatever you do will be fine.'

'You might want to reserve judgement on that. Even our dog turned up its nose at my offerings.'

'Secondly?' he prompted.

'How do I pay for things? Groceries and such like? My own pockets are rather shallow and I take it you won't want the supermarket budget range.'

'I'll give you a credit card to cover expenses, legitimate ones that is. I'll be checking the statement closely and any abuse will mean instant dismissal.'

'I wouldn't dream of it,' she said, deeply annoyed by his presumption of dishonesty.

'Next?' he said.

'Do you have any preference as to how you would like to be addressed - Mr Mackie or Sir?'

He leaned back in his chair and regarded her. 'Good question,' he said, pulling thoughtfully on his earlobe. After a moment's contemplation he said, 'My bank manager and my solicitor call me
'Mister' but only because they have to,
and the only person who ever called me
'Sir'
was a policeman as he wrote out my speeding ticket and he didn't mean it either. So…I suppose, when it's just the two of us we can keep it on a fairly casual footing if you like. I will call you Megan and you can call me Nat.'

'Nat,' she repeated. 'Okay. That's short and sweet.'

'Of course, if there are other people about I expect you will use your discretion.'

'Of course.'

'Anything else?'

'I don't think so.' She pushed her empty cup away and prepared to stand. 'So you'll let me know in due course then?

'About what?'

'About whether I've got the job or not?'

He smiled a broad friendly smile that crinkled the small lines at his eyes. 'I thought you'd already started,' he said. He raised his coffee cup in a mock toast. 'Aye, I think we'll give you a go.'

She gently tapped her cup against his and the deal was done. A short, clumsy silence ensued between the new employer and employee before he inhaled and slapped his palms on the table, making her jump.

'Right,' he said, 'I'd better let you get on with your work. Enough time's already been wasted on idle chit chat. You'll have plenty to do. I believe you have a few errands to run.'

On her visit the previous day, she had picked up a note he had left for Rebecca before he had gone away. It was a list of things he wanted doing, and some involved going into the nearest town – a more than twenty-mile round-trip.

'You are joking!' she said. '
In that weather
?'

He glanced at the window. Driven by a gusting wind, the rain drummed a tattoo against the glass. 'It's just a light shower...for these parts at least,' he said, standing. 'There's an umbrella in the closet you can use. Help yourself. Try and bring it back in one piece.' He slid the chair under the table. 'Welcome to Struan Lodge, Megan Thomas. I hope you don't find your time here too…arduous.' He tucked his newspaper under his arm and left the room, leaving behind the faintest trace of his cologne.

Megan's nostrils flared as they took in the scent and it tickled something deep within her, causing a small smile to play across her lips.

Chapter 2

With her first full day's work at the Lodge over, Megan's deep sigh when she got home that evening was one of both relief and fatigue. She draped her still wet coat on the back of a chair to dry and yelled out, 'I'm home!' There was no answer.

She took her time selecting and uncorking a bottle of red wine, poured herself a large glass and took a taste. Rich and dark and warming - perfect.

She picked up the bottle and wandered into the sitting room of the homely cottage she shared with her sister, Rebecca. Cuddled up on the sofa with her boyfriend, Paul, she looked surprised to see her.

'How long have you been home?' she said.

'Just a few minutes.'

'I didn't hear you come in.'

'I'm too tired to make any noise.'

Megan dropped into the easy chair, kicked off her shoes and took a long, satisfying drink of her wine. She dropped her head onto the back of the chair and closed her eyes. The fire blazing in the hearth and the dimly-lit, shabby comfort of the room welcomed her home, as did Paul's warm greeting of, 'Hey babe.' She liked Paul and her equally kindly, 'Hi Sweetie,' seemed to please him.

'Hard day?' he asked.

She took another drink. 'It was okay, once I got over the shock.'

Rebecca's attention immediately shifted onto her. 'What shock? What's happened?'

She peered at the fire through her wineglass. 'Your man Mackie, the one you said would be away for two more days? He came back early apparently and he was there waiting for me. There I was dripping like a mop and cursing like a sailor and he's sitting as calm as you like at the kitchen table and taking it all in. He scared the living be-Jesus out of me and made me look a complete ninny.'

Rebecca giggled softly and Paul nudged her to be quiet. 'Not a great first impression then?' he said.

'Not one of my best, no.' She rubbed at her toes and made a mental note to wear more comfortable shoes in future.

'So what do you think of him?' said Rebecca. 'Miserable old git isn't he?'

Paul was shocked. 'Becca! That's an awful thing to say!'

Rebecca huffed. 'You wouldn't say that if you knew him.'

'I think he's really rather nice,' said Megan affably.

'Nice?' Rebecca spluttered. 'He's not
nice
. You can't ever describe him as
nice
!'

'Of course I can. He was lovely; very polite. A little reserved maybe, a bit stuffy and up himself, but overall I like him. Why didn't you say he was quite the charmer? Good looking too.'

'He is not!'

'Well, I think he is.'

'Pah! It's all a front. I've warned you already - never judge a book by its cover, especially when that book is called Nathaniel Mackie and all the pages are coming loose.'