Alison Fraser – Love Without Reason (страница 2)
‘OK.’ Riona opened the passenger door and cautiously slid into the passenger seat, gripping her holdall to her.
‘Relax, kid. Boys aren’t my thing,’ he said with a short laugh.
Riona felt herself blushing and was glad her jacket hood hid much of her face. She decided to keep it on.
He didn’t seem to notice. He set the car in motion before asking, ‘Are you from Invergair?’
‘Yes,’ she replied simply.
‘How big is the village?’
‘Not very.’
‘A one-horse town,’ he remarked in a drawl. ‘That’s what we’d call it in the States.’
‘Really.’ Riona sounded less than interested in what an American would call Invergair.
Her reticence was noted, as he came back with a wry, ‘So tell me, are all the locals as gabby as you?’
‘I...’ Stuck for an answer, Riona glanced at him, then looked away as a mocking brow was lifted in her direction.
Of course he was right. She was being ungracious. Riona realised that. He hadn’t needed to offer her a lift. He didn’t even know she was a girl. It was she who was over-conscious of him as a man.
Silence descended until they approached the turn-off for Invergair, then she deepened her voice slightly to request, ‘Could you let me off here? My croft’s further on.’
He slowed down, saying, ‘How far?’
‘A mile or so.’ She nodded towards the road ahead.
‘Then I might as well take you.’ He shrugged, and, before she could object, picked up speed once more.
‘Thanks,’ she murmured reluctantly. She didn’t want to be the recipient of such generosity, particularly when she’d been so churlish herself. ‘You can drop me here, please,’ she said after they’d travelled the further mile.
He slowed down again, but, seeing no sign of habitation, asked, ‘Where do you live, kid?’
‘On the hill.’ She pointed at the rough dirt track leading towards her croft, then found herself protesting, ‘No, don’t go up it!’
‘Why not?’ He’d already turned on to the track.
‘Well...’ Riona searched for a reason, other than an unwillingness to let him see her home ‘...the track isn’t tarred. Your car might be damaged.’
‘So? It’s a rental.’ He casually dismissed the gleamingly expensive motor car and continued up the rutted road to the crofthouse.
The rain had ceased and, as they reached the top of the hill, they had a clear view of her cottage. Built of rough stone and slate tiles, it could be described neither as cute nor quaint. It was a drab, plain building, with a kitchen and sitting-room downstairs, and two bedrooms in the attic. Round it was a dry stone wall, half falling down, and a garden that had gone to weed. The air of neglect was emphasised by the fact that it was deserted.
‘Where are your folks?’ the American asked as they drew to a halt and no one came out to greet them.
‘I haven’t any.’ Riona’s parents had died in an accident when she was too young to remember them. The grandfather who’d raised her had died in the past year.
‘So who looks after you?’ he pursued, when she made to climb out of the car.
‘No one. I look after myself.’ Riona wondered how old he thought her.
He stared hard at her for the first time. She stared back. It was a mistake.
Before she could stop him, he pulled down her hood and announced with some disbelief, ‘Hell, you’re a girl!’
Riona could hardly deny it. Under the hood, her blonde hair was bound in a long, thick plait, and, though she wore no make-up, her soft skin and the full curve of her mouth made her utterly feminine.
‘Beautiful, too,’ he added under his breath.
Riona ignored it. Her grandfather had taught her to consider beauty a doubtful quality.
‘I’m also twenty and quite able to fend for myself, thank you,’ she announced rather briskly, and reached for the door-handle.
He caught her arm, detaining her. ‘You’re on your own here?’
Riona frowned at the question, not sure how to answer. He was still a stranger and it didn’t seem too clever to admit to being alone.
‘Not really,’ she eventually said. ‘There’s Jo. He lives with me.’
‘Jo?’ He repeated the name, before guessing wrongly, ‘Your husband?’
Riona didn’t contradict him but her blush gave her away.
‘Not your husband,’ he concluded drily, before shrugging. ‘Never mind. Who gets married these days?’
If he was trying to save her embarrassment, he drew a scowl for his trouble. Riona didn’t need his approval for living with a man, especially when she wasn’t—Jo was her collie dog.
‘Have I said something wrong?’ he continued at her hostile silence. ‘You want to get married and he doesn’t. Is that it?’
‘What?’ Riona couldn’t believe the nerve of him.
He went on obliviously, ‘Well, if you want my opinion, he needs his head examined...his eyesight, too.’
Once more he admired her beauty, his gaze warm and approving, but any compliment was lost on Riona.
Gritting her teeth, she retorted, ‘Actually, this may come as a surprise to you, Mr...’
‘Cameron,’ he supplied.
‘Mr Cameron, but—’ she tried to continue.
He cut in again. ‘No, Cameron’s my first name.’
‘Mr Whatever-your-name is, then!’ Riona snapped in exasperation. ‘The point is I
‘Thank you for the lift,’ she added gruffly, and got out of the car before he could stop her. He climbed out, too, but remained on the driver’s side, returning her slightly alarmed look with a smile. The smile suggested he hadn’t taken offence. Riona thought that was a great pity.
She glowered back at him, and he drawled, ‘Say, has anyone ever told you how beautiful you look when you’re mad...? Because if they have, I’m afraid they were lying,’ he declared in amused tones. ‘That incredibly sexy mouth goes into a thin, grumpy line. And your eyes, well, they go from a green reminiscent of—’
‘This is absurd!’ Riona finally interrupted the running commentary. ‘Look, I’m grateful for the lift, but it doesn’t give you discussion rights on my private life or my appearance. So if you don’t mind...?’
She looked from him to the track down the hill, and waited for him to take the hint.
He did eventually, concluding, ‘I guess that means I’m not being invited in for coffee.’
‘Astute as well as sensitive,’ Riona muttered under her breath.
He caught it and laughed. ‘Well, never mind, I’ll take a raincheck.’
Then, while Riona was still working on a reply, he gave a half-salute with his hand and climbed back into the car. She watched as he drove down the track, faster than he should, and found herself almost wishing an accident on him. Not a big accident. Just one where he and his flash car ended up in the ditch.
It was hardly a nice thing to imagine, but Riona didn’t feel very nice at that moment. Grumpy, indeed! And what about the conclusions he’d leapt to? Not only did he have her living with some man, but he’d also decided she was desperate for marriage.
That his conclusions were ridiculous didn’t matter. It was his sheer presumption that maddened her. She thought of all the clever things she might have said and hadn’t, and for a moment hoped they
* * *
She’d been wrong, of course. Cameron Adams hadn’t just passed through. He had been there a month in all—just long enough to change her life for ever.
The next time she’d seen him was that night at the ceilidh in the village hall. It was a weekly event in the summer, a mixture of song, dancing and recitation that brought crofters from all over the peninsula of Invergair.
Riona had to attend the ceilidh because, when her grandfather had fallen ill, she’d taken his place playing piano in the band, the other members being two local fishermen on fiddle and accordion. Their repertoire consisted solely of dancing reels, but she’d never been a musical snob. She was needed to play, and play she did.
She’d just finished a Dashing White Sergeant and had come off stage for a break, when she spotted the American. She could hardly fail to, as he bore down on her, allowing no chance of escape.
‘I’ve just spent the last half-hour looking for you,’ he said without preamble.