The Laird's Right-Hand Lady

~The Laird’s Right-Hand Lady~

By Catherine E. Chapman

Published by Catherine E. Chapman at Smashwords

Copyright 2018 Catherine E. Chapman

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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The Beacon Singer

The Family Tree

The Fight for Dolores

The Hangar Dance

The Knight’s Falconess

The Office Party

The Ramblers

Three Medieval Romances

Three Romances

Chapter 1

Jessica Fielding had flown from Heathrow airport to a handful of foreign destinations in her time but she had never before boarded a flight to travel the length of the British Isles. Leaving London in the afternoon, Jess watched, from her window seat, much of the coast of England passing by below her – the autumnal day was cloudless. But beyond Glasgow, the land in view became nothing more than an endless mass of dense, green pine forest. It was only then that Jess began to question what she was doing – this was a world apart from her life in the capital.

Upon arrival at the small Highland airport, Jess was met by Ailsa, who instantly identified her amongst the crowd of passengers disembarking from the plane. Jess had known she was to be collected by the housekeeper but Ailsa wasn’t at all what she had been expecting. Far from being matronly, Ailsa was a trim young woman, little older than Jess herself. She dressed in outdoor gear, as if she had just completed a long walk. Only her long, flaming-red hair was true to the stereotype that Jess had envisaged.

Did you pack your winter woollies? Ailsa asked Jess as they waited beside the luggage carousel. No sooner had she posed the question than Jess sprang forward and dragged a slender pink suitcase from the conveyer belt. Obviously not, Ailsa remarked disapprovingly.

I do need to get some warm clothes, Jess said, trying to sound matter-of-fact, rather than apologetic.

I guess you don’t get snow down South, Ailsa observed.

Not much, Jess admitted.

During the long drive inland to the Estate, in a four-by-four that Ailsa handled with alarming dexterity, Jess asked, How did you recognise me at the airport?

Seen your screen test, Ailsa replied.

Oh, Jess said, with an embarrassed laugh at the remembrance of the interview she’d attended with a recruitment agency in London. It had been recorded very professionally by a film crew so that Cameron McCallum, Laird-in-waiting and Jess’s new employer, could select his personal assistant.

Aye, you’ve never met his lordship, Ailsa remarked.

What’s he like? Jess enquired, feeling nervous to reflect that, whilst he had seen her in the interview footage, she had, indeed, not seen him.

Father or son? Ailsa queried.

Cameron, Jess replied. It was him she was going to be working for – not his father.

Preferable to Piers, Ailsa stated bluntly.

Jess waited for Ailsa to expand on the comment but the housekeeper was not forthcoming. It was now pitch-dark and Jess was tired from the long journey and the strain of everything seeming unfamiliar. She closed her eyes, in truth thankful for Ailsa’s silence.

To say that Jess hadn’t seen Cameron McCallum was not quite true. In preparation for her interview she had, of course, trawled the worldwide web, eager to find out all she could about the McCallums and their business, Glen Osprey Estates. Their business was, in essence, their home, the vast Highland estate of Glen Osprey, now exploited by the ancient family in various ways to augment their wealth. At the head of Jess’s list of hits was the official website of Glen Osprey Estates, presenting the corporate face of the McCallums. Jess had seen Piers, the current Laird of Glen Osprey, pictured at the bottom of the wide, sweeping, solid dark-wood staircase of Castle Osprey, his ancestral seat and Jess’s new home. Despite sporting a kilt, he looked imposing, staring straight into the camera and not smiling. But it had been the images of his son and heir –and Jess’s prospective employer– Cameron, that had captured her attention. Maybe it had been his thick, dark hair or the piercing gaze of his brown eyes in the image of him wearing evening dress and entertaining guests at a banquet in the Castle. Maybe it had been his stature, as he towered above the estate hands in the shot of a hunting party. Maybe it was the fact that he appeared neither affable nor quite aloof. Jess wasn’t sure what it was. But there had been something about Cameron that had made Jess feel that, whilst she just had to apply for the job of his personal assistant, she would never in a million years get it.

We’re here, Ailsa said sharply, rousing Jess from her slumber. You’ve been asleep for the last hour, she continued scathingly as she switched off the engine and climbed out of the off-road vehicle.

For a moment Jess struggled to decide what was real and what was imagined. She’d been watching Cameron McCallum fishing for salmon in a river on the Estate. The vision had been very vivid. But she suspected it had been a dream because it didn’t make sense that the future Laird of Glen Osprey wore nothing more than a pair of briefs in addition to his waders, when he was up to his thighs in freezing cold water on what was, undoubtedly, a chilly day.

Jess opened the heavy door of the four-by-four with some difficulty and stepped out onto the gravel forecourt of the great house as Ailsa resentfully hauled her pink suitcase from the back of the vehicle and set it before her. This was reality, alright. Thanks, Jess said.

You’re welcome, Ailsa replied, as if she wasn’t.

Jess looked up and surveyed a range of lamp-lit windows that gave a sense of the vastness of Castle Osprey, although she couldn’t discern many architectural details of the building in the dark. She shivered – the house was imposing.

On you go, Ailsa instructed briskly. His lordship’s waiting for you.

* * *

It was only when Jess approached the drawing room, where, Ailsa had told her, Cameron awaited her, that she realised she didn’t know how to address him. Was it Cameron or Sir or Lord (or Laird), or was it actually ‘Your Lordship’? She had assumed that Ailsa was being sarcastic in referring to him by that lofty title but now she wasn’t sure. Jess stood, staring at the large, solid dark-wood door, pondering the issue. She jumped when, to her alarm, the door swung open.

Miss Fielding, Cameron McCallum said.

Mr McCallum, Jess replied, trying to sound business-like. She was used to formal introductions and turning on the charm but, for some reason, she suddenly felt weak and tremulous. Maybe it was Cameron’s height. Jess wasn’t short for a woman but Cameron loomed over her in a way that made her feel diminished.

He offered her his hand, saying, A pleasure to meet you.

She took it, replying, Likewise.

He was a man who would have had a firm handshake, only he didn’t shake Jess’s hand – just held it, in a way that simply unnerved her. Looking intently into her eyes, he said, Come in. Take a seat.

Cameron freed Jess’s hand and she crossed the threshold of the drawing room. It was a room that might have been described as snug, had it been an eighth of its actual size. Nonetheless, the subdued lighting and the glowing log fire, with two generous armchairs drawn up close to it, made the focal point of the room look inviting to Jess.

Cameron had gestured to an armchair and Jess walked over to it and sat down. In this domestic –albeit grand– setting, it suddenly dawned on Jess how different this was going to be to her previous office-based jobs. In London she had always put in long hours but here she would never really be away from work.

How was your journey? Cameron asked as he took the chair opposite to her.

Good. Yes, fine thanks.

And Ailsa was gentle with you? he continued tentatively.

Jess looked into Cameron’s eyes. He was a man you couldn’t lie to. Um, she said.

He laughed knowingly, saying, Well, you got here in one piece at any rate!

Jess laughed too and began to feel more at ease, although she was uncomfortable on account of her attire. Cameron was dressed in jeans and an open-necked informal shirt – he looked relaxed. Foolishly, Jess had travelled in her black pencil skirt and a stiff white blouse – she had dressed for the office. She was now concerned that her blouse, which had come unbuttoned at the top, was revealing too much cleavage. Also, she was aware of the prickly heat of her black tights, with the intense warmth of the fire. She shuffled awkwardly in an attempt to cross her legs.

Is it Jessica or…

Jess, she said, nodding.

And I’m Cameron. Or Cam, if you prefer.

Jess found it hard to hold Cameron’s gaze so she allowed her eyes to drop, unavoidably encountering his long legs, which stretched from the chair, in which he reclined, over the richly coloured tartan rug. Her eyes came to rest on a small table positioned between them, upon which was placed an antique-looking crystal decanter and two matching tumblers.

Fancy a whisky? Cameron asked.

Jess was unsure whether he would approve of her drinking – was this a test? But, since there was no other drink on offer –save for a small jug of water beside the decanter– it seemed rude to decline so she said yes. In truth, Jess wasn’t really big on whisky.

She asked for the drink neat, thinking she could then have a glass of water to follow if she didn’t like it.

This is to be savoured, Cameron said as he leant over and poured out two generous measures into the tumblers. It’s our own twenty-year, oak-aged single malt – distilled on the Estate.

The details meant nothing to Jess but she liked the look of the label, which depicted a bird of prey, roosting imperiously on a tree branch. She sat up and moved to the edge of her seat, ready to receive her glass. As she gazed upon Cameron’s thick, dark, slightly curled hair, she pondered. According to the feedback she’d received from the agency, she had been one of five hundred applicants for the post of his personal assistant. She could barely believe she’d been selected from such a wide field of candidates; chosen, she was given to understand, by Cameron alone.

He handed her a glass, asking, So, what made you want to come to live and work in the wilds of Scotland? which Jess thought a strange question as she was sure she’d explained that in her interview. And the honest answer, which, of course, she’d withheld then and which she must withhold now, was, ‘You.’

I think I mentioned, my mother was born in Glasgow, she said.

Cameron smiled, almost breaking into laughter. Oh, yes, I remember that now.

Why’s it funny? Jess asked involuntarily.

Because it’s honest, I suppose, Cameron replied, shrugging his shoulders. But I wondered if you might consider such a domestic role as this boring, given your high-flying past in finance, he said, changing tack.

I’ve only ever been a PA, Jess pointed out, unsure whether it was wise to speak so unguardedly with him – was this a test?

"Well, I hope there’s enough in this job