Warning at Eagle's Watch (9 page)

"Nonsense, Annie. A young man like that needs someone to fuss over him." Mrs. Raymond's usually stern face looked vulnerable for once, but the look passed quickly. "Daisy," she called, "where are you?"

A trim little blonde in a well-starched uniform appeared at the pantry door. Her saucer like eyes regarded the housekeeper for a moment, then lit on Hillary, still standing unnoticed in the hallway door.

"We've got company, Mrs. Raymond."

The housekeeper turned on her heel to meet Hillary.

"Why. Nurse Holt, what can we do for you?"

"This is just a social visit. I thought I'd like to meet the rest of the staff."

And so the introductions were made. Annie had been cooking for Miss Scott for so many years that she had lost count. Daisy, the young attractive maid, had arrived only that very morning, to help deal with the guests. She seemed remarkably quiet and withdrawn, but Hillary hoped that with time, she and this other new arrival might become friends. It was a heartening feeling to know that there was another young woman in the household, one that she might have something in common with.

She left the kitchen a few moment's later and made her call to the Scott family lawyer from the phone in the downstairs study. She was told that Mr. Browning was out of town for the week. He would not be able to come to Eagle's Watch to consult with Priscilla Scott until he returned. Scotty's will would have to wait.

Hillary browsed through the shelves of books that lined the sunless study after she replaced the receiver in its cradle. She selected an elegant leather-bound volume of poetry to read after she retired to her room at night. As she turned to leave the study, she found Mitchell standing in the broad doorway, leaning rakishly against the carved molding, looking handsome and boyish in his well-fitting suit.

"Don't tell me our nurse is an intellectual, as well as an explorer," he said gaily, referring to her evening expedition through the echoing castle. "What are you reading?"

"Poetry. I like to read it to relax at night."

"I would think a girl like you would have other plans for relaxing at night."

His teasing eyes were dancing suggestively as he crossed the room toward her, and she felt her face getting blushingly hot.

"Yes, I also enjoy sorting pill bottles and reading medical charts," she teased back. "And once in a while, I sit down and organize my medical kit. There's no end to my exciting talents."

He threw his head back and laughed wholeheartedly. "If you've got some time before you return to the medical battlefield upstairs, how about taking a little walk with me outside? It's a beautiful day."

She thought of the exhilarating sunlight outdoors. She thought of taking a walk with Mitchell. Both ideas were pleasant ones. To return to the fresh air would be a delight, to share some time with this personable young man, Scotty's youngest relative, would be intriguing.

She smiled at his expectant face and agreed to take a jaunt outdoors for a short time while Scotty still slept. The delighted look on his face at her acceptance made her feel lighthearted and gay. She might have little in common with Mitchell Morrison, but there was certainly something to Scotty's suggestion that she let go and enjoy life a bit!

And so Hillary left the darkness of the castle for the second time that day, and returned to the rocky path that hovered above the ocean, this time with the happy-go-lucky Mitchell at her side.

They sat on the high rocks that had quickly become Hillary's favorite thinking place, and the minutes ticked by in the sunny afternoon as she learned about the young man beside her.

He lived alone in a small apartment in New York City and made his living by "buying and selling" anything he could get his hands on. He ran his own rather unorthodox business, handling an assortment of items, from antiques, furniture, and jewelry, to real estate. He called himself a "jack of all trades" in the selling market, not even trying to hide the pride and confidence he felt in his work.

"It sounds as though you do pretty well for yourself," Hillary commented after a while. She watched him anxiously to see his reaction, wanting to hear him disavow any need for his great-aunt's inheritance.

But typical of Mitchell, he threw his head back and laughed with fervor. "Hillary, I swear I can see right through you. I'm sorry, my dear, but I won't say that I am not in need of Aunt Priscilla's money. And if I did say such a thing, it would be blatantly naive of you to believe me. Truthfully, I would sorely love to have a say in what will happen to this place after she has gone. I would adore the freedom it would give me.

"However," he said, and his rakish grin returned, "it is easy to see that the issue is not an important one at the moment. She's in better health than the rest of us put together, and as an adorably good sport, I truly hope that she stays that way. So, now I've made my confession. Do you think less of me?"

He reached out and took her hand and smiled brightly into her green eyes. He made her feel very funny inside. After all, at least he was honest about his intentions. And you really couldn't blame anyone for wishing that an inheritance would come his way. Or could you?

"Now, take that old Uncle Arnold, for instance. I swear, he'd sell us all to the gypsies to get his hands on the money. And that's no exaggeration. He has always complained that he had a right to some of it anyway, that his mother, who was Priscilla’s aunt, had been wrongly disinherited for eloping with an unsuitable scoundrel way back in the dark ages. Perhaps it was unfair, but it's all water under the bridge now. That man hasn't done a day's work in his entire life, and spends the greater part of his time traveling from one estate to the next, portable house guest to any gentry who will have him, and are stupid enough to put up with him.

"At least you can't put me in that category, Hillary. I do work for a living!"

She laughed at his mocking self-defense. "And what about the Highfields?"

"Oh, they are a pair, I'll tell you. He has a little bad habit that keeps cropping up and setting them back a bit. It's called gambling. I must say, he's about the worst that I've ever seen. He can't resist a bet, no matter what the odds.

"If you bet him that the sun would go down this evening, he'd bet money that it wouldn't. They spend the better part of their days trying to clear up all the bets and bad debts. He works for some big corporation in Buffalo, but never makes enough to keep his little lady in the manner to which she'd like to be accustomed. He's a rather inoffensive little fellow. I feel rather sorry for him. But she's a tough old bird."

"You don't sound like you have too much affection for your relatives."

"Affection. That's a new word in our family vocabulary. We can't stand each other, and Aunt Priscilla can't stand any of us either. But we keep coming back for more, still hoping to be the one she dislikes the least, the one who'll end up with the prize when the time comes. We always figured it would have to be one of us. After all, who else?"

He paused, and his dark eyes were suddenly looking deeply into Hillary's. "And how about you, Hillary Holt? Why are you here? Was there any truth to the bomb of a rumor that Aunt Priscilla alluded to at lunch today? Are you destined to be the new heiress of Eagle's Watch?"

Her mouth hung open in wonder. What should she say? She wished with all of her heart that she could tell him the things that Scotty had planned, to clear her name and show that she had nothing to do with the inner goings-on in this unpredictable family. But she had given Scotty her promise. She could not speak of her patient's plans. But she could defend herself.

"I have no intention of any such thing." Her eyes were too bright, she knew, her cheeks were burning.

"Now don't get huffy, Hillary. I just couldn't help wondering what a girl like you was doing in this godforsaken place, why on earth you had buried yourself up here when the whole world is out there waiting to be enjoyed. I didn't want to offend you. Personally, I couldn't care less if you did have ulterior motives in coming to Eagle's Watch. People do what they have to do, that's my motto in life. Though I must say that my nose will be out of joint if you manage to accomplish in a few days' time, what we've been trying to do for years and years!"

Her face was a blaze of color.

"My dear, you certainly are striking when you're mad. I'll have to make you mad more often."

He patted her hand and smiled his teasing smile, and calmed some of the anger that had welled up inside her. He was a paradox, this handsome young man. He had a way of disarming her, away of catching her off guard. You do what you have to do, he had said. And that was the way that he lived his life. He would not have been even slightly surprised if she had grand notions of being the mistress of Eagle's Watch. He would not have judged her harshly, any more than he judged his own motives. Mitchell was certainly different from anyone she had ever known before. They walked back along the rocky path to the castle, now quiet, their footsteps muffled by the constant beat of the ocean's waves.

The rest of the day passed quickly. Hillary held another short therapy session with Scotty and found herself continually impressed with the diligence and remarkable determination of her patient as she was guided through the paces of her exercise routine.

Dinner was an affair that left the young nurse with mixed emotions. Once again, Scotty ruled at the head of the table, dressed elegantly in a striking dress of deep purple, as regal as it was old-fashioned. Around her withered neck, she wore a valuable gold and pearl pendant, its antique setting catching everyone's eye in the flickering candlelight. Many pairs of eyes assessed it eagerly, a fact which Hillary found disconcerting. But Scotty, true to form, was enjoying her relatives' not-too-subtle appraisal of the heirloom.

Scotty refrained from making any additional comments about her intention to make a will, which made Hillary more at ease, though she was still conscious of the sidelong glances and resentful looks that occasionally came her way, evidence that at least some of the family members still regarded her in the same accusing light that they had at the noon meal.

But the dinner was delicious, and superbly served, as Daisy moved gracefully and easily around the long table with the courses, under the constant scrutinizing eye of Mrs. Raymond. When the food was consumed, and the places cleared away, the group rapidly dispersed, a sign that they were several individuals temporarily housed under one roof but whose lives were distinctly separate. No one had as yet made any mention of his intention to leave Eagles' Watch in the near future.

Hillary settled Scotty for the night, and found that she was tired from the day's activities and emotions. Curling up with her book of poetry, she relaxed in her cozy room, drifting off into a restful sleep as the nighttime breeze gently ruffled the curtains at her window.

Chapter 7

"I swear, Hillary, if the good Lord had intended my arms and legs to move into the positions that you are attempting to put them into, he would have made them out of rubber, instead of flesh and blood."

Scotty grouched good-naturedly at Hillary a few days later, making a big noise about the repetitious and sometimes strenuous routines that she went through. But she complied all the same, her eyes still smiling and hopeful and willing, despite the sarcasm and teasing criticism in her voice.

"If the good Lord had intended you to sit in a chair for the rest of your days, Scotty, he would have stilled your mouth, too, so that we who have to be around you would be able to find life more bearable. As it is, we'll have to push you, rubber legs and all, and get you back on your feet for our own self-defense." Hillary finished up the exercise and rubbed some soothing lotion on the tired leg muscles. They had grown less tender already, as the circulation improved and the strength began to return.

"They certainly do make nurses bossy these days."

Two pairs of bright eyes met in the morning sunlight, one pair old and one pair young, but both laughing and sparkling, as patient and nurse regarded each other with affection. The day had begun well.

A few moments later, the door to the bedroom echoed with a resounding knock, and Hillary opened it to find Dr. Newburg, black bag in hand, in a suit not much less rumpled than the one he'd worn on their first meeting.

"Good morning, Doctor. I wasn't at all sure that we would see you today. Come in, come in."

"I thought I'd check, Nurse Holt, to make sure that Priscilla hadn't thrown you to the lions. Nurses are hard to come by these days."

The gray-haired man passed her in the doorway smiling in a friendly way to Scotty across the room, as if amused by her haughty pose. She sat regally in her wheelchair and looked out upon him like a queen surveying her humble subject.

"To be sure, I am faring extremely well under Nurse Holt's excellent care. Much better than under yours, if I may say so."

Dr. Newburg's face broke into a wrinkled smile and he gave a deep chuckle. His years of experience with Priscilla Scott had taught him to respect and appreciate her sharp tongue and mind alike.