Waterfall Glen Read Online Free PDF

were being polite—and if there was any chance she might be hearing you describe her, you’d definitely want to be polite. But under it all she’s got a good heart. She’shonest as the day is long, and she’ll keep your house clean and your plate full.”
    Finlay turned left along the path, around the tower house. “This is what you might call Miss Weir’s own little kingdom,” he told Kate as they approached a stone-built lean-to abutting against the rear of the banquet hall.
    Knocking timidly on the door, he said, “Miss Weir?”
    A voice from inside said, “Don’t tell me: her highness from across the water stood you up, and you all tarted up as if you were meeting royalty.”
    Kate had to work hard not to laugh out loud.
    Drawing his head down and his shoulders up while he squirmed with embarrassment, Finlay said, “Miss Weir, I’ve got Lady Kate here with me now.”
    There was a long silence from the lean-to, and Kate could almost sense the mortified embarrassment within its walls.
    The door finally opened and, accompanied by the smell of freshly-baked bread, Miss Weir appeared: a woman no taller than Finlay’s five foot four but dwarfing him by virtue of a beehive dyed the sort of black that would make a lump of coal look pale in comparison. Whereas Finlay barely tipped the scales at ten stone Miss Weir weighed half as much again, with a fair bit of that in the chest that filled out the top of her white blouse and the hips that stretched her black skirt. She glowered briefly at Finlay before turning her attention to Kate. A smile as strained as the seams of her clothes crossed her heavily powdered face and shesaid, “I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t realize you’d arrived, Lady Kate.” She gave a half curtsy. Kate wasn’t sure if it was just her imagination, but she thought she heard fabric tearing and stitches popping out one by one.
    Turning to look at Finlay, but still speaking to Kate, Miss Weir said, “I didn’t think that Mister McRae would bring the new lady of the house to the kitchen door like some hired help.”
    Addressing Finlay now, she said, “Have you not got a brain in that balding napper of yours, man! What on earth were you thinking about?”
    “I’m sorry, Miss Weir,” Finlay said, shrinking back like a chastened schoolboy.
    “It’s not me you should be apologising to, it’s Lady Kate.”
    Before Kate could say that there was no need for an apology, or to keep calling her Lady Kate, Miss Weir said, “Now if you’ll see to the suitcases and show Lady Kate through to the banquet hall, I’ll rustle up a bite for her to eat. She must be half-starved after such a long journey.”
    “Actually, I’d quite like to see the kitchen,” Kate said, fascinated by the little she could make out beyond the redoubtable figure in the doorway. “May I?”
    Bemused, Miss Weir stepped aside. Her attention turned to Finlay—who was beating a hasty retreat with the cases—when she heard him muttering ‘Awa’ an bile yer heid, you auld dragon’ under his breath. “The ‘auld dragon’ll’ see you later, Mr. McRae,” she said in a voice that could have cracked a roof slate, and one that madeFinlay McRae quicken his step and think of battle-hardened sergeant-majors as gentle souls in comparison.
    Kate was barely aware of what was going on behind her because she was so taken up with the kitchen. It was unlike any she’d ever seen before. Apart from a fridge and washing machine, there wasn’t a modern appliance in sight. The floor was covered in flagstones rather than tiles or textured vinyl, and the unplastered walls were lined with rough-hewn shelves crammed with jars of jam and honey, chutney and pickled preserves. The labels on each jar were hand-written, the tops sealed with wax paper held in place by elastic bands. Kate knew at a glance that nothing on the shelves had been bought in a supermarket. As well as freshly-baked bread she smelled a dozen other equally comforting aromas,