Alison Fraser - Love Without Reason

Riona didn’t disagree, muttering instead, ‘I wouldn’t worry too much about Cameron Adams, Doctor. He didn’t strike me as the vulnerable type.’

‘Perhaps not,’ the doctor conceded, before relaying, ‘At any rate, he told old Mrs Mackenzie, the housekeeper at the Hall, he wasn’t the marrying kind.’

‘Really?’ The news didn’t surprise Riona. She remembered his showing a healthy contempt for the married state the first time they’d met.

Dr Macnab went on to explain, ‘Apparently a Mrs Adams called from America while he was out and Mrs Mackenzie assumed it was his wife. He laughed at the idea, saying that Mrs Adams was his stepmother, and that acquiring a wife was something he’d so far managed to avoid.’

The doctor smiled, amused by the American’s phrasing, while Riona declared cynically, ‘I suspect they’ve avoided him—women with any taste, that is.’

‘Oh, I don’t know.’ The doctor gazed across to where the American was standing, having attracted another couple of ladies into his circle. ‘He seems to be charming the birds out of the trees.’

Riona glanced at the American again and made a dismissive sound. True, he appeared to be gaining a fan club, but they were women who would have fluttered round the new laird if he’d turned out to be the devil himself.

‘I hope he doesn’t expect us all to fawn on him,’ she muttered aloud, refusing to be susceptible to those powerful good looks.

‘I’m sure he doesn’t,’ Dr Macnab said more reasonably. ‘At least, I can’t think he’ll be any worse than Sir Hector.’

‘Mmm.’ A non-committal sound from Riona. True, Sir Hector had been a terrible old autocrat with a variable temper and an almost feudal attitude to his tenants, but who knew what his successor was really like?

Feeling she’d already wasted too much time discussing the American, Riona excused herself and returned to the stage with the rest of the band. They continued through their repertoire of dance numbers. It was music Riona could have played in her sleep, which was fortunate as her attention kept wandering back to Cameron Adams.

She saw him dancing the Highland schottische with Isobel Fraser. They were both dreadful at it. Isobel was actually a lowlander from Strathclyde and normally considered herself too sophisticated for the weekly ceilidh. It wasn’t hard to guess what had brought her to this one.

When the other two band members suggested playing a slow, romantic air, Riona shook her head and led the music into an eightsome reel. Then, in an unusually spiteful mood, she enjoyed watching Isobel try to keep up with the energetic dance. High heels and reels did not go together. The couple eventually left the floor, mid-dance, and, losing sight of them, Riona assumed they had gone completely.

Only later, when the dance was over and she went in search of a lift from the doctor, did she discover the two men—Dr Macnab and Cameron Adams—making each other’s acquaintance at a table in the far corner of the hall. She stopped in her tracks and was about to retreat altogether when the older man spotted her.

‘Ah, Riona,’ Dr Macnab hailed her, and she reluctantly approached the table. ‘I was just about to come and look for you. You’ll be wanting a lift?’

‘Aye, Doctor, if it’s not too much trouble,’ she said stiltedly, inhibited by the American’s presence.

She didn’t have to look to know his eyes were boring into her. But she looked all the same and immediately regretted it.

‘I’ll give you a lift,’ the American said in a tone that suggested refusal wasn’t an option.

Riona’s heart sank. She’d sooner walk the four miles in bare feet.

It was Dr Macnab who answered warmly, ‘That’s good of you, Cameron,’ when Riona remained silent.

‘It’s on my way.’ Cameron Adams dismissed any kindness in the offer, then directed at Riona, ‘Are you ready?’

What could she say? Remembering her first lift with him, she’d no wish to repeat the experience. But he was the new laird, while she was just one of his tenants.

‘It is good of you,’ she echoed the doctor, ‘but it’s not really your most direct route. If you go west from the village, it’s about five miles to the House. You have to go in a circle to pass my croft and it almost doubles the journey.’

‘Yeah, I know,’ was his only response, as he placed a hand at her elbow, and, with a last, ‘See you around, Doc,’ to the older man, began steering her towards the door.

The hall was still busy with people saying goodbye and Riona felt every one of them was staring in their direction. By tomorrow it would be round the village—Riona Macleod had left the ceilidh with the new laird. She could imagine what the gossips might conclude from that.

Cameron Adams smiled disarmingly at people they passed and raised a hand in farewell to Isobel Fraser, who was trapped in conversation with the local vet. He swept on towards the door, without noticing Isobel frantically signalling in return.

‘I think Isobel’s trying to catch your attention,’ Riona told him. ‘Maybe she needs a lift. I could go with the doctor...’

‘Uh-huh, forget it,’ he dismissed, marching her towards his BMW. ‘Isobel has her own transport, and, even if she didn’t, I don’t think she’d be short of a man to take her home... So be a good girl, stop arguing, and just get in,’ he added, as they reached his car and he opened the passenger door for her.

Riona felt mutinous at his ‘good girl’ and wondered what he’d do if she took to her heels instead. She looked around for a bolt-hole.

‘I wouldn’t if I were you.’ He read her perfectly. ‘Unless, of course, you’d like to be dragged back, caveman style.’

‘You’d not dare!’ she retorted angrily.

He smiled. ‘Try me.’

Riona was tempted, almost certain he must be bluffing. It would be more embarrassing for him—the new laird seen accosting a local girl outside the village hall. That was assuming, of course, that Cameron Adams ever got embarrassed.

He continued to smile down at her until Riona decided he would dare, and got into the car.

He quickly climbed into the other side and switched on the engine. Then, before driving off, he turned to say, ‘Your safety-belt—put it on.’

It was definitely an order, not a suggestion.

Riona muttered rebelliously, ‘Why? Am I going to need it?’ remembering how fast he drove.

He ignored the comment and repeated, ‘Put it on!’

Riona, who had simply forgotten the belt, took exception, not to it, but to his tone. She decided she would do up the belt in her own sweet time.

But it seemed Cameron Adams wasn’t prepared to wait that long, as he leaned over her to grasp the strap and, drawing it across her front, locked it into position. In doing so, the back of his hand brushed against her breast. While Riona felt almost panicked by the contact, he didn’t seem to notice, and calmly turned back to grip the wheel and set the car in motion.

Riona seethed in silence. She had never met anyone so arrogant. Who did he think he was?

She asked herself the question and answered it in the same breath. He was the laird—and what in heaven’s name was she doing arguing with him? Did she want to be thrown off her croft, after trying so hard to keep it going for the past two years?

She’d lived there almost her whole life. Her parents, both music teachers, had died in a car accident when she was two, and her grandparents had taken her home to live with them. She was ten when her granny had died, and then it had just been her and her grandpa. Later she’d had the chance of a place at music college in Edinburgh, but she’d chosen to stay with him instead. He’d been in his mid-seventies by then, and growing frail. She’d nursed him through a series of debilitating strokes until a final one had brought release for him. She had not considered it release for herself. Six months on, she still missed the old man who’d brought her up and cared for her in his own tough, uncompromising way.