Love Without Reason. Alison Fraser

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СКАЧАТЬ she decided to adopt a low profile and hope the idea of her helping him had been dropped. She assumed it had, as, lunch over, she made her excuses and departed, expressing a positive desire to walk the three miles back to her croft. She did so with a distinct spring in her step that came from relief.

      * * *

      The relief lasted till the next morning. Seven-thirty a.m. he arrived. He and Rob Mackay, one of the estate farm workers. To say she was put in a dilemma would be untrue. Dilemma implied choice and she was given none. She was barely given time to tell Rob the jobs needing attention before Cameron Adams hustled her towards the estate Land Rover and away. He installed her into the passenger seat, then lowered the back tail-gate for Jo to jump in.

      When she finally had the chance to protest, they were in motion. ‘Has it occurred to you I may not want to do this?’ she asked in the iciest tone she could manage.

      Only to have him smile in return. ‘Sure. Why do you think I got here early?’

      ‘But what’s the point?’ she pursued. ‘If I won’t co-operate...’

      ‘You’ll have to—’ he continued to smile ‘—otherwise we’ll spend the day driving round and round in circles, ‘cos I don’t know where any of the ladies live.’

      He obviously thought he had her, but Riona took a leaf from his book and shrugged. ‘So? It’s no skin off my nose. Rob’s doing my work for the day.’

      Then, having said her piece, she folded her arms and took to staring out of the window. The Land Rover provided a fine view. She felt certain she could outlast him.

      He took the road to the village and parked outside the shop, where Mrs Ross and a Jean Macpherson were standing gossiping. ‘Well, which way to—’ he checked a list on a clipboard ‘—to Annie Fac-quhar-eson’s?’

      ‘Fackerson, it’s pronounced,’ Riona relayed with a superior air.

      ‘Right, Fackerson. Which way?’ he repeated.

      Riona didn’t answer. Instead she asked, ‘Who compiled this list for you?’

      ‘Isobel. Why?’

      ‘No reason.’

      ‘Come on,’ he said at the ‘I know something you don’t’ look on her face, ‘what’s wrong? Is this Annie person not one of the knitters?’

      ‘Well, she was,’ Riona conceded.

      ‘But she’s given up?’ he guessed.

      ‘You could say that,’ she responded drily, before admitting, ‘Old Annie Facquhareson died a month ago. It seems to have slipped Isobel’s notice, unless, of course, she means young Annie.’

      ‘That must be it,’ he put in, and read off the address, ‘Braeside, Ardgair.’

      She nodded, ‘Aye, that’s young Annie’s address all right. But I don’t imagine she’ll be doing the knitting yet. Though I might be wrong.’ Riona pretended to consider the possibility. ‘No, I doubt it. Five would be a bit young, don’t you think?’

      ‘Young Annie’s only five?’ he concluded with exasperation.

      ‘I just said that.’ Riona smiled to herself.

      He grimaced, stroked out the name of Annie Facquhareson and went on to the next. ‘Right, Jean Macpherson. First of all, is she dead or alive?’

      ‘Alive,’ Riona confirmed, able to see Jean Macpherson just a few yards away, still talking to Mrs Ross.

      ‘Good. And does she knit?’ he enquired drily.

      She nodded, before saying, ‘Yes, but—’

      ‘I knew there’d be a but,’ he cut in. ‘Don’t tell me. She’s broken an arm? Busy sailing across the Atlantic single-handed? Emigrated to New Guinea?’

      ‘No, she’s just out at the moment,’ Riona relayed.

      ‘Out?’ he repeated blankly.

      ‘Not at home,’ she said with exaggerated slowness.

      His lips thinned. ‘How do you know?’ he asked in a manner that suggested he thought she was lying.

      ‘Maybe I’m clairvoyant,’ Riona responded unhelpfully, but her eyes betrayed her, wandering to the two women still standing gossiping.

      ‘OK, which one is she?’ he demanded.

      Riona was forced to admit, ‘The one in the blue dress.’

      ‘Right, we can either go talk to her now,’ he declared, ‘or you can direct me to the next on the list.’

      ‘I...’ Riona hesitated. She didn’t much fancy the idea of broaching the topic with Jean Macpherson in the middle of Invergair’s main street and publicly advertising her association with the American, but she didn’t much like giving in, either.

      She was forced into action as he made to climb out of the vehicle, and she grabbed his arm to stop him. ‘It’d be better if we called at her home,’ she said, and, scanning the list for the easiest-going of the ladies, added, ‘We could go to Betty Maclean’s now. She’s only a couple of miles out of the village.’

      ‘Fine.’ He nodded and, putting the vehicle in gear, followed the direction she pointed in.

      A smile had reappeared on his face. It was hardly surprising. He’d won.

      The smile remained on his face when she introduced him to Betty and then sat, largely silent, while he proceeded to reduce the lady to fluttering acquiescence.

      They had a repeat performance in the next house and the next. Riona couldn’t believe it. She’d thought his brashness would put off each and every lady. She’d thought they’d be suspicious of his grand schemes and offended by his sheer, overpowering confidence.

      Instead they were carried along by his enthusiasm and bowled over by his charm. That he invited them to contribute any ideas they had to the scheme was the final seal on his popularity.

      It was Riona who ended up trying to preach a little caution, and, though Cameron Adams tolerated her efforts, the women didn’t want to know.

      ‘The world’s changing, Riona, lass, and we have to move with the times,’ she was told by Aggie Stewart, the oldest of the knitters at seventy-four.

      After that, she gave up, and limited herself to informing him how to get to each croft and providing an introduction to its inhabitant.

      By the late afternoon, they’d seen about six ladies in all. It was just a fraction of the number of women capable of professional knitting in the area, but Riona felt it was enough. They were bound to relay his ideas to the rest and she told him so as they arrived back at her crofthouse.

      ‘Possibly,’ he conceded, ‘but, having visited a few, I reckon I’m obliged to visit them all. Otherwise I’m going to have some offended ladies on my hands.’

      Riona СКАЧАТЬ