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your grandfather,’ Cameron concluded. ‘Dr Hamish said you’d nursed him to the last. It must have been hard.’
    Riona shook her head, denying it. ‘I loved him,’ she said simply, and turned from him.
    He caught her arm and gently pul ed her round again. He saw a suspicion of tears in her beautiful green eyes. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’
    ‘You haven’t,’ she claimed, even as a tear slid silently down her cheek.
    He put out a long finger and stemmed it. She bowed her head and shut her eyes to prevent any more. She felt sil y. She didn’t normal y cry so easily, didn’t normal y cry at al .
    He took her chin and tilted her face to his once more. She tried to look tough, but her bottom lip trembled at the compassion in his eyes. She tried to look away and his hand cupped her cheek.
    ‘You can cry with me,’ he said, his hand softly touching her skin, sliding to her hair.
    Riona felt his pity, but didn’t want it. She resented it and him, even as every sense cried out with a different need. Her lips parted in protest, but the words caught in her throat as he lifted his other hand to cradle her head.
    It suddenly seemed hard to breathe. She licked her dry lips, unconsciously provocative, and his eyes fol owed the movement, then his fingers. He
    traced her mouth, watching her face as he did so. He slowly bent his head, giving her every chance to escape.
    And, even as her mind said, I mustn’t let him, her heart beat a different message. His lips touched hers, gentle at first, no more than a healing breath on her soft, child’s mouth. Perhaps that was al he would have done—kissed her with tenderness—if her mouth hadn’t slowly opened to him like a flower, seeking more than the coolness of his breath, wanting the taste of him, warm and moist on her tongue.
    She lifted her face to his, and was lost. He clasped her closer and, groaning his acceptance, covered her lips with his. He kissed her with a rough sensuality that made her want more, and her arms went round his neck, and her hands held his head, dragging it to her own.
    He kissed her over and over, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy the need in her. She fel with him on to the sand, and they lay on their sides, stil kissing.
    Then he rol ed her on to her back, a hard leg trapping hers, and his mouth left hers to trail downwards. Skil ed fingers undid the top buttons of her T-shirt and pushed aside the flimsy bra she wore, and she tensed for their touch. She did not expect the shock of pleasure as his mouth, not his hand, covered the peak of her breast and began to play and suck and tease on her already hardened nipple. Such shock that she arched to him. Such pleasure that she moaned for him. And was lost.
    He could have made love to her then and there, on that lonely beach. Riona was incapable of stopping him. It was a hard truth to face. But it was he who stopped himself, he who drew away from her eventual y and looked briefly at her ful , beautiful breasts, before drawing the sides of her T-shirt together.
    It was a wretched feeling, rejection. But that had to be faced, too, as he sat up and away from her, and stared out towards the loch.
    She barely heard his mutter of, ‘I want you, but not like this,’ and it didn’t lessen her feelings of humiliation, as she buttoned up her T-shirt. She should have been the one to cal a halt. She should never have let him kiss her, never let him pul her down on the sand, never let...
    Angry with herself, angry with him, she scrambled to her feet and left him sitting there. When he cal ed out her name, she kept walking. He fol owed, shadowing her until they reached the picnic things. She bent to col ect her sandals and would have walked away again, if he hadn’t caught at her arm.
    She refused to look at him. He sighed heavily, then said, ‘I took advantage. I’m sorry.’
    It wasn’t what Riona had expected and she turned to him in surprise.
    ‘The champagne made you a little tipsy. I knew that,’ he