i 530d83f9160d5231 (12 page)

‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded, her eyes growing as hard as glass. ‘You can’t want the baby to be yours, so why don’t you just take my

word for it and go?’

He shook his head. ‘You’re dead right. I don’t want it to be mine. I don’t want a part of you in a part of me. But, if it is mine, do you think I’m going to leave its upbringing to you?’ He looked at her with contempt, then looked around at the poverty of her surroundings. ‘So, where is he? In your bedroom?’

He made to go upstairs again and she clutched hold of his sleeve. ‘You can’t go up there. He’s asleep!’ she cried at him.

‘Somehow I doubt that, the racket you’re making,’ he ground back, and, throwing off her hand, took the stairs in a few strides.

Riona fol owed, but was helpless to stop him. He found her bedroom easily. He should do. They had lain together there often enough.

He entered the room and crossed to the cot, visible in the glow from a night-light. She stayed at the door. She prayed that Rory would stil be asleep.

If he was, Cameron would only see the back of his dark head.

Her prayers weren’t answered. A gurgling noise came from the cot. Rory rarely cried when he woke. Even with a stranger standing over his cot, he

did not cry. He already had his father’s confidence in life.

He also had his father’s hair and eyes and mouth. She was sure Cameron would see that. She assumed he did, when he leaned into the cot and

picked the child out of it. He held his son at arm’s length and stared hard at him for a moment, then carried him to where Riona stood.

His eyes shifted to her, with a look of intense dislike, and she reeled a little as he thrust the baby into her arms. She waited for the accusations and recriminations, but none came. Instead he pushed past her and retook the stairs. She didn’t ful y realise his intention until she heard the front door bang loudly behind her.

He had gone. He had done what he’d come to do and left. He had failed to see it. He’d looked at his son without recognition, and once more walked

out of her life.

The baby began to cry now, although he could not have understood what had just happened. Riona cradled him close. ‘Never mind, baby, you have

me, you have me,’ she crooned over and over, even as the tears slipped down her face.

For al her words and her actions, til then she’d held on to a smal part of the dream. She’d sat some nights and imagined Cameron coming back,

sorry he’d left, realising he loved her, loving her more when he discovered she’d had his son. That was what happened in novels and stories.

But this was real life. In real life he came back for business reasons—she’d heard he was sel ing the estate— and, discovering she’d had a child,

acted out of moral obligation. Al the time he’d been hoping the child wasn’t his; smal wonder that he’d seen no likeness, felt no bond. Just like the last time, he’d walked away without a backward glance.

That was what Riona thought, but once again she was proved wrong when she met him a couple of days later. It was on the Sunday. Though she’d

stopped playing at the ceilidh and at church since her pregnancy, she stil went to the doctor’s for lunch. The day was pleasantly warm and she walked the three miles to the vil age with Rory in an old pram. He was sound asleep by the time she arrived and she parked the pram at the front door.

The doctor must have been looking out for her as he opened the door without her knocking, and she said, ‘Rory’s asleep, so I think I’l leave him

outside for a while.

‘Aye, the fresh air’l do him good,’ Dr Macnab agreed, as he let her into the house. She was wel inside the hal before he added, ‘I have a visitor, lass.’

‘Visitor?’ She didn’t catch on, until a second figure appeared in the sitting-room doorway.

Their eyes met and held for a moment. He didn’t look surprised. Obviously he’d known she was coming.

She tried to back out of the door and the doctor stopped her.

‘Now, lass, I know how you feel, but you can’t just run away,’ he told her sternly. ‘Pride’s one thing, but you have to consider the baby. If

Cameron’s prepared to help the two of you—’

‘Why should he?’ Riona asked the question of the doctor, but her eyes winged back to Cameron. He looked cool y indifferent. ‘I’ve told him the

baby isn’t his. That’s al he needs to know.’

‘Lass, lass.’ The doctor shook his head at her. ‘You can’t go on like this. You have to accept that—’

‘The baby’s mine,’ Cameron interrupted tersely. ‘I know it. You know it. And a test wil prove it. So let’s just cut the crap.’

She winced a little at his words, while the doctor said more gently, ‘He’s right, Riona. There’s no point. Fatherhood can now be conclusively

established.’

‘That’s apart from the obvious fact the boy’s mine,’ Cameron added, without the slightest trace of warmth in his voice or his eyes.

Riona stared back at him, unable to believe she’d once loved this man. Had she been blind to the coldness in him, the cruelty?

‘Look,’ the doctor appealed, ‘why don’t we al go into the dining-room and discuss the matter over lunch? I’m sure we can come to some sort of

arrangement...’

Riona shook her head. She wasn’t going to sit down to Sunday lunch with Cameron Adams. She wasn’t going to come to any arrangement.

‘I want nothing from you.’ Her tone was one of contempt.

‘What you want is of no interest to me,’ he returned coldly. ‘It’s the child’s needs that concern me.’

‘And you don’t think they concern me?’ She went on the defensive.

‘I never said that.’ He was cool and col ected in the face of her rising temper, but that hardly made Riona feel better. ‘I’m sure you look after him adequately on a day-to-day level, but have you considered the future—
his
future?’

‘Of course I have,’ she claimed angrily.

‘And?’ A questioning brow was lifted in her direction.

Riona opened her mouth, then shut it again, finding no suitable response. She knew too wel what he was getting at. He didn’t have to spel it out.

He did anyway, saying, ‘Correct me if I’m wrong. You have no money. Nor is there any prospect of your having any. Which can only mean you’re

planning to bring up my son on the pittance you make from the croft and possibly some welfare hand-outs.’

‘Cameron, man,’ the doctor urged him to go easier, as Riona visibly flinched.

But he ignored the older man, rasping a final, ‘Wel ?’ at her.

‘I—I...’ Riona felt helpless, with no weapons to fight back. He had summed up her life with dreadful precision. ‘I have other plans,’ she final y

claimed. ‘I may move to Edinburgh.’

‘And do what?’ he pursued at this vague suggestion. ‘Live in some low-rent apartment? Farm out Rory while you work? And work at what?’

‘I—I...’ Riona had asked al these questions of herself a thousand times. She didn’t need him to point out how limited her opportunities were. ‘That’s my business,’ she said at last, recovering a little of her spirit.

‘Uh-huh!’ He shook his head. ‘Not since you went ahead and had my child it isn’t.’

Riona’s eyes narrowed at his choice of words. ‘Presumably you wouldn’t have had me “go ahead” with the pregnancy, if you’d known,’ she

concluded bluntly.

‘Riona,’ the doctor interceded again, ‘I’m sure Cameron didn’t mean it like that.’

‘Didn’t he?’ It was Riona’s turn to direct the American an accusing look.

He returned it, grating, ‘If that’s your justification for not tel ing me, then you can shove it. I had the right to know, at least.’

‘What did you expect,’ Riona flared back, ‘a little note informing you of the impending event? Wel , yes, I suppose I could have sent one—had I

known your address. But then you left in such a hurry, didn’t you?’

A look of fury constricted his handsome features. ‘Whose fault was that?’

‘I...’ Riona’s mouth dropped open at the nerve of him trying to shift the blame.

He continued relentlessly, ‘And don’t give me that bul about not knowing my address. Anything sent to Invergair Hal would have been forwarded.’

‘So?’ Riona couldn’t believe he was making her out to be the vil ain of the piece. ‘What was I supposed to write? “Dear Cameron, Remember me,

the Scottish girl you had a brief fling with? Wel , I just thought you’d like to know I’m having your baby. Best wishes, Riona.” Would that have pleased your lairdship?’ she said in scathing tones.

‘Possibly not,’ he admitted in a voice of ice, ‘but that’s irrelevant. As the child’s father, I stil have rights and responsibilities.’

Riona frowned back. She hadn’t imagined he had any rights. Surely he was bluffing? She shot a glance of enquiry at Dr Hamish, but the old man

raised his shoulders, unaware of the legal position either.

‘You have no rights,’ she declared uncertainly, and it drew a cold, superior smile.

‘You think not. I could fight you for custody,’ Cameron ran inexorably on, ‘and there’s an outside chance I might win. At the very least an American court would award me visitation rights... However, I don’t think a messy court battle would be in Rory’s interests, do you?’

He waited for an answer, but Riona had none. She sensed there was worse to come than threats of court action.

‘Come, now, man, you and Riona can surely work things out without involving the lawyers,’ Dr Hamish spoke up, stil hoping to put matters on a

friendlier footing. ‘The only people who would benefit out of that would be the lawyers themselves.’

‘Exactly.’ Cameron took it as support for his argument.

‘Wel , in that case—’ The doctor began to say something, but Riona cut across him.

‘What do you want?’ She was tired of this fencing; it was time to hear the bottom line.

‘Several things,’ he clipped back. ‘First, I want the boy to have my name.’

‘Your name?’ Riona repeated blankly.

‘Yes.’

‘But... you expect me to re-register him as Adams?’

Riona’s tone told him how ridiculous she found the idea. It turned out, however, to be slightly less ridiculous than what he real y meant.

‘Hardly.’ An impatient look accused her of deliberate stupidity. ‘When I say I want him to have my name, I mean I wish him to have legitimate

status.’

‘Legitimate status?’ Riona echoed him once more as she tried to catch up with where the conversation was going.

Dr Hamish was quicker, a smile appearing on his craggy face as he said, ‘Ah, Cameron, man, I told her you’d do the right thing by her. I just wish

she’d written you earlier. Never mind, al ’s wel that ends wel .’

‘What?’ Riona didn’t yet feel she understood.

A patently delighted doctor helped her out, saying, ‘He wants to marry you, lass. He wants to marry you.’

She switched incredulous eyes to Cameron, seeking a denial. Instead, in cold, unemotional tones, he confirmed, ‘I’m prepared to marry you, yes. I

believe, under Scottish law, that doing so wil automatical y legitimise Rory, despite the lapse between birth and marriage.’

‘Yes, that’s so.’ An enthusiastic doctor nodded, while Riona continued to stare at Cameron, wondering if he actual y
believed
she’d be prepared to marry him. Could he be so arrogant? Did he imagine she’d be grateful?

‘Wel ?’ he demanded an answer.

‘I won’t marry you.’ She didn’t hide her disgust at the idea. ‘I wouldn’t marry you even if you went down on bended knee and begged me.’

‘Riona!’ The doctor despaired at this abrasive response.

Cameron Adams was less disconcerted, bluntly informing her, ‘I’m talking of a marriage of convenience for the purposes of legitimising our son. I

won’t want to consummate it.’ His expression betrayed an antipathy that matched her own.

‘Och, the two of you!’ The doctor was impatient with what he saw as foolish pride. ‘You were once fond enough of each other to make a baby; you

could be fond again. If you’d only discuss what went wrong, try to—’

‘Doctor!’ The last thing Riona wanted was a post-mortem on their relationship. Cameron had walked out on her when he’d got bored. What more

was there to say?

Cameron seemed to share her opinion, as, in clipped tones, he continued, ‘This is what I propose. We marry in Scotland by special licence and return to the States. You stay there for a time—six months, say—to give the appearance of a conventional marriage, then return here claiming incompatibility. I shal fly over periodical y to visit Rory, until he’s old enough to spend his vacations with me in the States.’

‘And why should I agree to al this?’ Riona assumed he was going to offer some inducement to her.

She was right, as he ran on, ‘If you do, I’l guarantee you lifetime’s use of Invergair Hal , an appropriate sum to run it and an al owance for both you and Rory. That way he wil grow up with an appreciation of his inheritance.’

‘His what?’ He was moving too fast again for Riona.

‘I have abandoned plans to sel Invergair. Instead I have decided to cede it to Rory on his twenty-fifth birthday.’

‘The Hal ?’

‘And the estate.’

Riona had to stop her mouth from dropping open. He was calmly talking about giving away what was rumoured to be six mil ion pounds’ worth of

property to a baby he’d barely seen. She realised once again that she had never real y known or understood Cameron.

‘You’re going to hand Invergair over to Rory?’ She wanted to be sure she’d got it right.

He nodded, then qualified, ‘Unless he proves himself unfit to run it.’

Riona frowned at what sounded like a catch. ‘In what way unfit?’

‘If he had a drug addiction, an alcohol problem or was simply incompetent,’ he reeled off possibilities. ‘I certainly wouldn’t turn over Invergair to someone who was likely to squander it.’

Riona conceded his point, but stil found the conversation unreal. Here they were, facing each other in the doctor’s hal way, discussing twenty-five years into the future. She tried to imagine herself mistress of the Hal and failed.

‘There are certain other conditions attached,’ he added, with the same deadly calm.