Love Without Reason. Alison Fraser

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СКАЧАТЬ if I see you first, Riona thought, but didn’t quite have the nerve to say. He already considered her childish enough, having lost interest in her as a woman.

      She should have been pleased about that. She told herself she was. She lied.

      She decided the best thing was to keep out of his way. But it really did prove impossible. The next morning, when she played organ in the village church, he was there, sitting in his great-uncle Hector’s pew, in direct line of her vision. Every time she made the mistake of looking up from the music, he paused mid-song and gave her a slow, wry smile. She realised he must be laughing at her, enjoying her discomfort, well aware she didn’t know how to handle him.

      When the service ended and he seemed on the point of approaching her, she slipped out of the back door of the church and went overland to the doctor’s house. The doctor was a non-believer who only attended church for weddings and funerals, but in Riona’s eyes he was one of the most giving men in the community. Since her grandfather’s death, he had insisted she join him for Sunday lunch.

      The roast was prepared by his housekeeper, Mrs Ross, and sometimes the widowed lady sat down with them to enjoy it.

      ‘Three for lunch, today,’ Dr Macnab said when he’d taken off her coat and escorted her through the hall.

      Riona smiled at the housekeeper as she appeared in the dining-room doorway. ‘You’re staying, Mrs Ross?’

      ‘Ach, no, lass, the company’s too exalted for the likes of me,’ the older woman replied with a shake of the head. ‘I’ve told the doctor. I’m away now.’

      ‘Exalted?’ Riona had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

      It was the doctor who answered, ‘Aye, the man himself,’ and, at the ring of the doorbell, added, ‘That’ll be him.’

      Him? Riona didn’t need twenty questions. She knew. Even before she heard the doctor say, ‘Come away in, Cameron, man,’ and saw the American’s large frame in the doorway.

      He looked surprised to see her, too. Clearly the doctor hadn’t warned him.

      ‘You know Riona, of course,’ Dr Macnab said, as the two exchanged stares rather than smiles.

      ‘Miss Macleod.’ The American inclined his head towards her.

      She followed his lead. ‘Mr Adams.’

      The doctor raised a brow at such formality, but said nothing, as he led the way into the dining-room.

      Though she’d lunched many times at the doctor’s, Riona was the one who felt ‘out of it’. While Dr Macnab and Cameron Adams chatted easily about both local and world affairs, she sat largely silent. Several times the doctor tried to draw her into the conversation, but she was completely inhibited by the American’s presence.

      She listened, however, and gathered that the American did not intend to sell the estate, as they’d all assumed he would.

      ‘Initially I’ll have to employ a manager to run it,’ he said to the doctor. ‘Apart from not having the experience, I’ve commitments in America.’

      ‘So you’ll be returning home soon?’ Riona asked him.

      ‘Is that wishful thinking?’ he suggested drily, before saying, ‘Not for a few weeks. I’ve managed to wangle a month’s vacation from work.’

      ‘May I ask what you do?’ the doctor put in.

      ‘I’m in construction,’ Cameron Adams answered readily enough.

      In construction? Riona wondered what that actually meant. Was he a bricklayer, an architect, or what? He certainly had the muscles for labouring work, but his manner implied more authority. Unless, of course, the air of authority came with his expensive clothes, which in turn came from his great-uncle Hector’s money.

      ‘You’re a builder?’ Riona dared to suggest.

      ‘You could say that,’ he replied, giving little away.

      ‘What do you build?’ she pursued.

      He shrugged. ‘Malls, mostly. The occasional cinema duplex. Condominiums, sometimes.’

      ‘I see.’ Riona absorbed this information with what she hoped was an intelligent nod. She wasn’t about to admit she hadn’t understood a word. Malls, duplexes and condominiums, whatever they were, weren’t thick on the ground in Invergair.

      ‘I can see I’ve left her deeply unimpressed,’ Cameron Adams remarked to the doctor.

      ‘Not at all,’ the older man tried to make up for her lack of response. ‘I’m sure it’s most interesting work.’

      ‘Fraid not, Doc,’ the American laughed. ‘When you’ve built one mall, you’ve built them all. So, who knows? Maybe it’s time for a change.’

      ‘You mean—move to Invergair?’ Riona asked in alarm.

      ‘Why not?’ He smiled at her less than ecstatic expression. ‘I am half Scotch, you know.’

      ‘Scottish,’ she echoed, not considering him such at all. ‘The other’s a drink.’

      ‘I stand corrected,’ he responded with an amiability that left her feeling petty.

      Perhaps he was right. Perhaps she was hard to get along with.

      At any rate, the doctor frowned in mild reproof before putting in, ‘It’s a common enough mistake. Our English counterparts often make it.’

      ‘Well, I’ll be careful not to make it again,’ the American declared. ‘I suspect it’s going to be hard enough getting the natives to accept me. There seems to be a general opinion that I’m going to raise rents automatically, then evict those who can’t pay. I guess they think, being an American, I’ll be after the quick buck and nothing else.’

      Riona had the grace to blush. That was exactly what she and many of the other crofters had thought. They’d certainly not envisaged him taking more than a monetary interest in his inheritance.

      ‘Oh, I’m sure it’s not personal,’ Dr Macnab was quick to reassure. ‘They’re just worried for their future. It’s not a hundred years since the last clearances, when landlords evicted tenants to make room for sheep farming.’

      ‘So I’ve heard—’ the American nodded ‘—but the people surely don’t think that’ll happen again? These days there must be laws to stop it.’

      ‘Possibly,’ the doctor agreed, ‘only we’re not talking law or logic, but a deep-rooted mistrust that’s been handed down through the generations. And, with so many of the lairds being absentee landlords, attitudes have been slow to change.’

      ‘How did they regard Sir Hector?’ Cameron Adams asked, and, when the other man hesitated, added, ‘You can be honest, Doc. I have no memories of my great-uncle, fond or otherwise.’

      The doctor took him at his word, saying bluntly, ‘Well, Sir Hector wasn’t the best liked of men. He was autocratic and often downright СКАЧАТЬ