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She turned and caught Cameron watching her again. His cynical expression suggested he thought her impressed by the grandness of his family

home.

‘I suppose you built it yourselves,’ she said flatly.

He shook his head. ‘Not quite. My father employed an architect, but only to incorporate his own ideas of house design. Hence the vague appearance

of a shopping mal .’

‘You don’t like it?’ she concluded from his tone.

He shrugged, as if his opinion was irrelevant. ‘I suggest you let me do the talking,’ he said, a thinly veiled order, as Stevens opened the passenger door.

Riona didn’t argue. Dreading this first meeting with his family, she didn’t imagine she’d want to say anything. She fol owed him out off the car, and started round the other side to unstrap the baby car-seat.

Cameron intercepted her. ‘Rory’s asleep. Perhaps it would be better if you left him. Stevens wil look after him,’ he directed at the hovering

chauffeur.

‘Ah... yes, sir.’ Stevens didn’t argue either.

Riona was reluctant, but she saw it might be simpler to meet the rest of the family, without Rory in tow. ‘Could you please come and get me, if he

wakes?’ she asked the chauffeur.

‘Certainly, miss... mam...’ he stumbled awkwardly over her title. Clearly he hadn’t a clue who she was.

Riona assumed things would be different inside the house, but the door was opened by a maid who also stared at her for a puzzled moment, before

issuing a formal welcome to Cameron.

She informed him the family were in the lounge and Cameron crossed the marble hal with Riona in his wake. He opened one of the many doors off

it and stepped inside the room. She hovered a few paces behind, shy and wary of meeting his family.

Voices died away at their entrance and for a moment the three people already seated in the room remained frozen where they were. The man,

presumably Cameron’s father although there was little resemblance, looked first to his son, a half-smile already forming on his lips. The two women glanced at him briefly before their eyes slid to Riona, calculating, assessing, dismissing.

Riona’s gaze switched between al of them. Charles Adams, slighter and more thin-faced than Cameron, was stil a handsome man, silver-haired and

distinguished, with a wry expression that suggested he was glad to see his son.

Barbara Adams was surprisingly young-looking for a woman in her fifties, with auburn hair and stretched but unlined skin; she wore a plain black

dress that did not detract from the exquisite diamond necklace round her neck. She also wore a look of icy disdain as she took in Riona.

Last but not least was Melissa Adams. With black hair, perfect features and perfect skin, she looked like a young Elizabeth Taylor. She wore black

evening trousers and a colourful silk shirt which floated loosely round her slim frame. Neither her beauty nor her taste could be denied, and, as she looked Riona up and down, the Scottish girl felt both large and plain in her cotton blouse and skirt.

Eventual y Charles Adams rose from his chair and crossed to give Cameron a hard, masculine hug. ‘Good to have you home, son,’ he said with

obvious affection before he glanced past him to the girl at his shoulder. ‘And you must be Riona. It’s a pleasure to meet you.’

‘Thank you.’ Riona, surprised at what appeared to be a genuine welcome, came forward and shyly offered her hand.

He took it and shook it warmly. ‘How was the journey from Scotland?’

‘Long,’ Riona replied with a slight smile, and drew an indulgent look in return.

‘Yes, you must be exhausted,’ Charles Adams concluded and, turning to his wife, ran on, ‘So, let’s get the introductions over. This is Barbara, my

wife, and my daughter, Melissa.’

Obliged to come forward, Barbara stood and offered a limp hand to Riona. They shook briefly. Melissa stood, too, but remained where she was,

confining herself to a chil y smile.

Silence fel for a moment, an awkward, strained silence as neither of the women uttered any greeting and Riona fol owed suit. Then Charles Adams

continued, ‘Barbara’s prepared some rooms for you and... and the baby.’ He glanced in enquiry at Cameron.

He supplied, ‘He’s asleep in the car, Dad. Do you want to see him?’

‘Do I want to see him?’ his father repeated with a chuckle. ‘My first grandchild, and he asks, “Do I want to see him?’“

It was clear Charles Adams couldn’t wait to see Rory and Riona warmed to him. That Rory had appeared rather unconventional y seemed to make

little difference to the older man, as he said, ‘I stil can’t get over it,’ and clasped Cameron by the shoulder in a gesture of congratulations and pride.

‘Then come and meet him,’ Cameron suggested and, exchanging smiles with his father, led the way out to the hal .

Barbara Adams gave Riona the briefest glance, a cold-eyed scrutiny, before fol owing in her husband’s wake.

Riona hesitated to join the family party. Although she was Rory’s mother, she felt at the moment rather incidental. She took half a step towards the door, before a voice cal ed her back. ‘I’d leave them to it, if I were you. Unless, of course, you’re into the excruciatingly sentimental.’

‘Not particularly.’ Riona turned to Melissa Adams, who had resumed her seat and was sipping her cocktail. Clearly Rory held no interest for her.

‘No, somehow I didn’t think you would be,’ the American woman drawled on, and her tone made every word an insult. ‘You can be sure my

stepfather wil be suitably impressed by your offspring, whatever it’s like. While my dear mother wil doubtless be hovering with a hypo.’

Riona, promising herself to keep as cool as the other girl, couldn’t help being drawn by the latter.

‘A hypo?’ she echoed.

And Melissa Adams added patronisingly. ‘You know, hypodermic. Used for taking blood. Which, in turn, can be used for genetic fingerprinting. You

have heard of genetic fingerprinting, I assume?’

Riona gave a brief nod. She was wel aware where the conversation was leading. She just wasn’t going to help Melissa Adams get there.

‘Then you’l know it can be used to conclusively establish fatherhood,’ the American girl added, her dark eyes slanting like a cat’s.

This time Riona didn’t answer at al , but put on a look of studied boredom.

Melissa looked surprised, as if she expected more of a reaction—either tears or abuse from such an unsophisticated opponent. She had Riona

pegged as scheming but stupid.

‘Not that I doubt Cameron’s paternity for a moment,’ Melissa continued at length. ‘Like any man, Cameron is capable of being driven entirely by his sexual urges, but out of bed he’s not such a fool. In fact, I’m wil ing to bet he’s already had the test done.’

‘Actual y, no, he didn’t bother.’ Riona somehow matched the other woman’s calm. ‘There was no need. You see Rory,
our
son, is the living image of his father.’

It was the first time Riona had taken pleasure in boasting of the fact. She’d done so because she knew such a likeness would hurt the other girl, who was plainly as jealous as a cat. She also knew that if she didn’t fight back, Melissa Adams would make every second of her time in Boston a misery.

As it was, Melissa’s cool facade had quickly changed to the spiteful manner that lay beneath. ‘You think you’ve got him, don’t you? But don’t kid

yourself. It’l take more than some bastard brat to hold on to Cam.’

‘Real y,’ Riona said with studied dignity. ‘Should I assume you are speaking from some vested interest?’

Melissa’s lips thinned even more. She had thought Riona would be an easy conquest. Finding she wasn’t, she lost her temper and any subtlety with it.

‘If I want Cam, I just have to lift a finger.’ Melissa’s face turned ugly with anger. ‘You won’t make any difference. You’l see.’

‘If you say so.’ Riona affected indifference before turning on her heel and going out into the hal . There she took a deep breath to rid her head of the other girl’s unpleasantness.

She saw the rest of the family standing at the front door. Charles Adams was holding a now wakened Rory and the two—grandfather and grandson

—were getting to know each other. Rory seemed quite happy in another male stranger’s arms; perhaps he could read the adoration so transparent on his grandfather’s face. Barbara Adams stood apart from them, her lips compressed into a thin line; obviously she wasn’t overjoyed at this smal addition to the family.

Cameron glanced towards Riona, his eyes questioning where she’d been. She responded with a smal , thin smile as she wondered how he would

react if he knew of the little tête-à-tête she’d had with his stepsister. She couldn’t imagine him taking her side, at any rate.

Riona walked forward and Rory’s head switched round at the sound of her footsteps on the marble hal . He gave a brief cry at the sight of his

mother and Charles had the wisdom to hand him over. He nestled himself against Riona’s neck, the bond clear for al to see.

Charles Adams smiled at the picture, and said with gratitude, ‘He’s the image of Cameron as a baby.’

Riona smiled back, glad of at least one al y in the house.

When Barbara Adams final y spoke up, her tone was cold and practical as she informed them, ‘I’ve given Miss Macleod and the child the nursery

quarters. Cameron I’ve put in his usual room.’

‘But they’re in opposite wings,’ Charles Adams objected to the arrangements.

‘That’s al right, Dad.’ Cameron had no desire to be nearer Riona, but he couldn’t resist mocking his stepmother with a dry, ‘And should we presume you’l be patrol ing the corridors as wel , Barbara? Or are appearances preserved with separate quarters?’

Barbara Adams scowled openly at her stepson. ‘We al know you’ve never cared what people think of you, Cameron. However, your father and I

have a position to keep up in this town. It wil be embarrassing enough to account for the sudden materialisation of a six-month-old baby, without giving our servants more to gossip about to our friends’ servants.’

‘Oh, things aren’t that bad, Barbara,’ Charles Adams chided her a little, feeling she was overstating the case. ‘I’m not sure anybody cares much

these days about that sort of thing. Anyway, Cameron and Riona can be married in a month, set up in their own home, and who’l remember what in a

couple of years? Right, son?’ He smiled at Cameron for support.

Cameron’s expression was wry, as he echoed, ‘Right, Dad.’

It was Riona who felt uncomfortable. For some reason Charles Adams had accepted her as his future daughter-in-law, instead of judging her as not

good enough, as she’d expected. She felt guilty when she planned to stick around only long enough for the ink to dry on a marriage certificate.

Charles caught her unhappy expression and misunderstood, adding quickly, ‘Of course, the choice of wedding and home is up to Riona.’

‘To a limited degree,’ Barbara Adams interceded. ‘I mean, she can hardly sail down the aisle in clouds of white lace, now can she?’ The older

woman’s eyes slid to Riona with barely veiled contempt for her and the baby that made a white wedding a mockery.

Riona just stared back, realising she’d have to grow a second skin to survive the women of this house. ‘Don’t worry. Five minutes in a Register

Office wil do me.’

‘Surely not,’ Charles appealed to both her and Cameron. ‘So you’ve jumped the gun a little. Lots of couples do these days. It doesn’t mean you can’t have a day to remember al your lives. And Riona wil make the most beautiful bride, don’t you think, Cameron?’

Cameron neither agreed nor disagreed, saying instead, ‘It’s up to her.’

Riona shot him an il -disguised look of hostility. He must know she didn’t want any grand ceremony. It was up to him to scotch the idea.

‘For now, I think we’l go and freshen up,’ he added, catching the look and deciding not to rely on Riona’s acting abilities for much longer.

‘Yes, sure, son. You go up and get settled, and we’l put a hold on dinner,’ Charles assured, as Cameron took Riona’s arm and began to steer her up the staircase.

Out of the corner of her eye, Riona caught sight of Melissa leaning in the lounge doorway, watching their progress upstairs. She was awarded a look of malice from the girl. Cameron noticed, and raised a questioning brow. Riona ignored it, continuing up the broad staircase.

They remained silent even when they reached the upper gal ery, out of view, and walked along a lengthy corridor, then down another, before they

reached the rooms that had once been used as nursery quarters. The rooms were isolated from the main part of the house, a fact that actual y pleased Riona.

She looked round what would be Rory’s bedroom. An antique wooden cot had been retrieved from somewhere and placed beside a single bed. The

wal paper was teddy bears on a background of pink. The carpeting was pink, too.

‘Who last used it?’ Riona asked out of curiosity.

‘Melissa,’ Cameron answered evenly. ‘She was just two when my father married Barbara and they came to this house.’

‘Your mother didn’t live here,’ Riona concluded out loud.

He shook his head and gave a brief laugh. ‘My mother would never have wanted to live anywhere like this. When I was young, we lived in an

apartment in Boston near the park. It was quite big, but it wasn’t showy.’

It was clear which he preferred, and Riona deduced that the more showy mansion was his stepmother’s choice. She imagined it must have been

hard on him, losing his mother at eight, losing the home they’d shared at thirteen. For a moment her heart went out to the boy he’d been, then she stifled an emotion that threatened to make her soft.

His face closed up, too, perhaps regretting any confidences, as he led the way through to the adjoining bedroom. It was carpeted, with a wardrobe,

single bed and dressing-table, functional rather than luxurious, but adequate for Riona’s needs.

It was Cameron who looked round the basic room and said, “This was the nanny’s room. You won’t have to stay here. I’l get you moved to