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‘You can cry with me,’ he said, his hand softly touching her skin, sliding to her hair.

Riona felt his pity, but didn’t want it. She resented it and him, even as every sense cried out with a different need. Her lips parted in protest, but the words caught in her throat as he lifted his other hand to cradle her head.

It suddenly seemed hard to breathe. She licked her dry lips, unconsciously provocative, and his eyes fol owed the movement, then his fingers. He

traced her mouth, watching her face as he did so. He slowly bent his head, giving her every chance to escape.

And, even as her mind said, I mustn’t let him, her heart beat a different message. His lips touched hers, gentle at first, no more than a healing breath on her soft, child’s mouth. Perhaps that was al he would have done—kissed her with tenderness—if her mouth hadn’t slowly opened to him like a flower, seeking more than the coolness of his breath, wanting the taste of him, warm and moist on her tongue.

She lifted her face to his, and was lost. He clasped her closer and, groaning his acceptance, covered her lips with his. He kissed her with a rough sensuality that made her want more, and her arms went round his neck, and her hands held his head, dragging it to her own.

He kissed her over and over, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy the need in her. She fel with him on to the sand, and they lay on their sides, stil kissing.

Then he rol ed her on to her back, a hard leg trapping hers, and his mouth left hers to trail downwards. Skil ed fingers undid the top buttons of her T-shirt and pushed aside the flimsy bra she wore, and she tensed for their touch. She did not expect the shock of pleasure as his mouth, not his hand, covered the peak of her breast and began to play and suck and tease on her already hardened nipple. Such shock that she arched to him. Such pleasure that she moaned for him. And was lost.

He could have made love to her then and there, on that lonely beach. Riona was incapable of stopping him. It was a hard truth to face. But it was he who stopped himself, he who drew away from her eventual y and looked briefly at her ful , beautiful breasts, before drawing the sides of her T-shirt together.

It was a wretched feeling, rejection. But that had to be faced, too, as he sat up and away from her, and stared out towards the loch.

She barely heard his mutter of, ‘I want you, but not like this,’ and it didn’t lessen her feelings of humiliation, as she buttoned up her T-shirt. She should have been the one to cal a halt. She should never have let him kiss her, never let him pul her down on the sand, never let...

Angry with herself, angry with him, she scrambled to her feet and left him sitting there. When he cal ed out her name, she kept walking. He fol owed, shadowing her until they reached the picnic things. She bent to col ect her sandals and would have walked away again, if he hadn’t caught at her arm.

She refused to look at him. He sighed heavily, then said, ‘I took advantage. I’m sorry.’

It wasn’t what Riona had expected and she turned to him in surprise.

‘The champagne made you a little tipsy. I knew that,’ he went on to admit. ‘I shouldn’t have made a pass at you.’

Riona stopped feeling angry, and started feeling guilty. She supposed she had been light-headed and her guard down.

‘I didn’t exactly fight you off,’ she admitted in turn, shamefaced.

He smiled, ‘No, you were delightful, but how much was the champagne and how much was me is the question.’

Riona blushed at the ‘delightful’, and decided it was a question best left unanswered. She should just be grateful he had overestimated her

intoxication.

He smiled again, at the pink colour in her cheeks, then, releasing her arm, bent to pack away the picnic things. Riona felt awkward just standing

there, and bent to help him.

They drove home, not friends exactly, but not in silence, either. Cameron talked of his plans for converting Invergair Hal from a mausoleum, as he put it, to what sounded like a luxury home, without destroying the essential character of the house. Riona, who had visited the Hal a few times as a girl, agreed it was presently a draughty barn of a place, and didn’t disagree with the idea of improvements. She just wasn’t sure how she felt about him living there permanently.

It would have been so easy to dream, so easy to let herself imagine Cameron was interested in her, beyond a brief affair.

But, in real life, men like Cameron had too many girls interested in them to be interested in only one. Even if he hadn’t been laird and heir to Sir Hector’s wealth, he would stil have had his pick of the women.

Men like Cameron fooled around until they were forty, then married someone to give them children. Only the someone wouldn’t be anyone like

Riona. Why should it be, when there were any number of daughters of minor aristocracy who would overlook his Americanness to acquire an ancient

Scottish seat? Riona could never compete with the Lady Sarahs and the Lady Carolines, with their correct accents and their polished manners and their beautiful clothes. She would be a fool even to try.

By the time they returned to the croft, the effect of the champagne had worn off and Riona was back to being hard to get along with.

When Cameron turned in his seat and, smiling, said, ‘About tomorrow—’ she cut him off abruptly.

‘I won’t be able to help you. I have to go to Inverness.’

‘Say, that’s a coincidence.’ His smile broadened. ‘You’l never guess where I’m going tomorrow,’

Riona had a feeling she could guess. She hoped she was wrong.

She wasn’t.

He went on, ‘To see another fish-farm just outside Inverness.’

‘Real y.’ Riona stil hoped she was flattering herself— and that he was not about to offer her a lift.

But she was right again, as he continued, ‘So what time should I pick you up?’

‘It’s OK. You don’t have to bother,’ she said quickly. ‘I can easily get the bus.’

‘That’s crazy,’ he dismissed. ‘I’m driving to Inverness, anyway. Why not come with me?’

‘I...I get car sick,’ she garbled out, and it sounded what it was—a feeble excuse. ‘On long journeys,’ she added, recal ing she’d spent much of the last few days travel ing around with him.

‘So?’ He shrugged. ‘If you get car sick, you must get bus sick, too. I’l come equipped with a plastic bag.’

‘No, real y. It’s al right. I...’ She searched frantical y for another excuse.

‘Don’t want to go with me,’ he supplied, a wry look on his face. ‘Yes, I’ve got the message. The question is why?’

‘I—I...’ His directness threw her.

‘I won’t expect you to sleep with me in repayment, you know,’ he stated in an offhand drawl.

Riona’s face flared with colour. Did he have to be so crude?

‘I didn’t think...’ she started to protest.

‘Didn’t you?’ He pul ed a slight face. ‘After the way I acted on the beach, I guess my motives are suspect. However, you have my word: if you

come to Inverness with me, I’l keep my hands to myself and stick to strictly impersonal topics, like the weather... So what time should I pick you up?’

Riona opened and shut her mouth. He was irrepressible.

‘Nine o’clock,’ he suggested.

And she took the easy way out, agreeing, ‘Nine o’clock.’

Her capitulation must have seemed suspiciously sudden, but a slight frown was quickly replaced by a smile of satisfaction.

Cameron Adams was used to getting his own way, Riona imagined. One look from those dark blue eyes, the flash of a wicked smile, and women

were brought to their knees. Sil y, susceptible women—there were enough of them in the world.

Riona refused to be one.

CHAPTER FOUR

NINE, Riona had agreed, and by half-past eight she was standing outside the vil age store, waiting for the bus. She wasn’t alone. There was old

Donald MacIver, travel ing to Inverness to see his daughter, and Betty Maclean, making a once-a-month trip to the chiropodist’s.

She was just thinking she was home free when the BMW appeared from the other direction. She quickly turned her back, while Betty started to say,

‘Isn’t that himself? Why, he’s slowing down.’

Riona’s heart sank. She assumed it was bad luck he’d come this way and spotted her, but it seemed not, as he drew to a halt beside her, and stepped out of the car. ‘Thought I’d catch you here. We must have got our times mixed up.’

Of course he knew they hadn’t. He was speaking for their audience’s benefit, while his eyes flashed her another message, tel ing her she’d been

outmanoeuvred.

Riona might have argued, but he didn’t give her a chance, turning to say to the rest, ‘Are you waiting for the bus, too?’

Donald gave a nod that suggested he would have doffed his cap had he been wearing one, while Betty beamed at him, saying ‘Aye, your lairdship,’

in a suitably sycophantic manner.

Riona just gritted her teeth.

The American looked amused, as he invited them al to, ‘Climb on board.’

Betty hesitated, flustered by the idea of travel ing in the laird’s car, but he opened the rear door and ushered her and Donald inside.

That left Riona. Having shut in the rest of his passengers, he opened the front door for her. She stood where she was.

‘Come on,’ he said in an undertone, ‘surely I’m safe enough now.’

‘What do you mean?’ She frowned back.

‘I’ve got you two chaperons.’ He nodded towards Betty and Donald in the back of the car.

Riona gritted her teeth once more at his gentle mockery, but, when he caught hold of her arm to press-gang her into the car, she put up no resistance.

She was too conscious of Betty in the back; Betty’s nickname round Invergair was Betty the News. Riona didn’t want to give her anything juicy to report.

The car journey took a little over an hour. Riona found every minute a strain; not so the rest. Cameron Adams soon put Betty at her ease and she

gossiped most of the journey, while Donald clearly enjoyed speeding along in the BMW. When they arrived in Inverness, the American delivered them to their destination.

‘How to win friends and influence people,’ Riona muttered rather sourly, as they drew away from a broadly smiling Betty outside the chiropodist’s.

‘What’s wrong with that?’ he chal enged. ‘If I do move to Invergair, it wil make life a lot easier, being accepted by the locals.’

‘Wel , I think you’ve made a convert in Betty...
your lairdship.’
She mimicked the other woman’s frequently used address to him.

He laughed, before drawling back, ‘You know us Americans. We just
love
titles.’

He’d obviously read her thoughts and was making fun of her. She lapsed into silence once more until they reached the town centre, then she

announced crisply, ‘You can drop me here.’

‘Why? Where are you going?’ he asked, pul ing into a parking space.

Riona decided it was none of his business, and said, ‘Nowhere in particular.’

‘You’re just going shopping,’ he concluded for himself. ‘That seems a fairly universal occupation among women.’

The comment annoyed Riona greatly. ‘As a matter of fact, I haven’t come shopping. I never come shopping. I’m here to work,’ she informed him in

cool tones.

‘To work?’ His brows raised. ‘At what?’

He made it sound as if he imagined her incapable of anything but herding sheep, and she snapped, ‘I give piano lessons.’

‘You don’t say!’ He looked a shade more impressed. ‘At a school, you mean?’

‘No, I teach people in their own homes,’ she relayed.

He frowned. ‘Wel , I hope your clients are al female.’

‘Why?’ Riona frowned at his tone.

‘You can’t be that naive, surely?’ He slanted his head on one side and let his eyes wander from her face to her body, its curvaceousness stil

apparent in a plain white blouse and cotton skirt.

Riona understood then what was meant by bedroom eyes. ‘Not every man sees a woman as a... as a...’

‘Sex object?’ he suggested at her reluctance to say the words. ‘Possibly not, but I’d say most men would find you attractive. And that touch-me-not manner of yours isn’t going to stop them. In fact, some might consider it a positive turn-on.’

Riona didn’t believe him. He was just trying to embarrass her. He was succeeding, too, as she felt the colour rising in her cheeks.

He seemed oblivious, asking outright, ‘So, are any of your pupils male?’

‘Yes, one.’

‘Young or old?’

‘Young.’

He shook his head in disapproval. ‘And you go to this guy’s house?’

‘I don’t have much alternative. That’s where the piano is,’ she pointed out.

‘Do you take any protection?’ he pursued.

‘What do you suggest?’ she countered drily. ‘A switchblade? A revolver? Or maybe a machine gun? This isn’t America, you know,’ she added in a

tone that said she was very glad it wasn’t.

‘There are alternatives,’ he said impatiently. ‘Some women carry around mace to spray in an attacker’s eyes.’

‘Real y?’ She continued to play him along for a moment, before saying, ‘Wel , somehow I don’t think that would go down very wel with his mother.’

‘His mother?’ Cameron Adams repeated with a frown.

‘Yes, didn’t I say?’ She feigned innocence. ‘Little Ewan, my one male client, is only seven. Or might he be eight? I seem to remember he had a birth

—’

‘Al right, al right,’ he cut in, ‘I was just looking out for your interests, though God knows why!’

Riona’s lips thinned at his exasperated tone. She hadn’t asked for his patronage and she certainly didn’t need it. She gathered the holdal at her feet and, with a vague nod of farewel , made to open the passenger door.

He caught her arm, saying, ‘So what time do I pick you up and where?’

She shook her head. ‘I’l be staying overnight.’ She indicated the bag she was clutching.

‘Staying where?’ he immediately quizzed.

She frowned at his curiosity, but told him, ‘In a bed and breakfast along the river. I always stay there.’

‘How about dinner, then?’ he added, taking her by surprise.

‘I thought you were going back to Invergair?’