Love Without Reason. Alison Fraser

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СКАЧАТЬ 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 don’t want your opinion. I’ll probably never want your opinion. In fact, I can’t think of anyone’s opinion I’d want less!’ she declared on a strident note and jerked her arm free.

      ‘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 would meet again. Then she shook her head at the possibility. In a couple of days the American would have ‘done’ Invergair and be on his way, further north to Gairloch, or back down south to some posh hotel. No tourist ever stayed long in their area.

      * * *

      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.

      Riona matched his directness with a flat ‘Really. Why?’

      He laughed in response. She wondered if he ever took offence—and, if so, how she could possibly give it.

      He went on obliviously, ‘I didn’t notice the piano player. As a rule, they don’t tend to be so beautiful.’

      Riona ignored the compliment, but couldn’t ignore his eyes. They slid from her face to the dress she wore. A simple bodiced dress in white cotton, it left her arms and shoulders bare and kept her cool in the warm, crowded hall. It also hinted at the first swell of her breasts, a fact that she hadn’t really noticed until the American’s gaze lingered there.

      Riona had always found her figure an embarrassment. She didn’t mind being tall—at five nine, she was taller than many Highland males. And, in her usual clothes of baggy jerseys and jeans, it hardly mattered what her figure was like. She just wished that, when she wore feminine clothes, her curves were less pronounced, less suggestive. It seemed a joke of nature when, in character, she wasn’t the ‘sexy type’ at all.

      She felt only anger as the American’s eyes reflected his thoughts, and she snapped, ‘Perhaps I can have my dress back when you’ve finished.’

      ‘What?’ Distracted from their private fantasy, his eyes travelled back to her face, and he gave her one of his slow smiles. ‘I guess I was being obvious.’

      ‘Painfully,’ she agreed, and tried to walk past him.

      He moved СКАЧАТЬ