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topics, like the weather... So what time should I pick you up?’
    Riona opened and shut her mouth. He was irrepressible.
    ‘Nine o’clock,’ he suggested.
    And she took the easy way out, agreeing, ‘Nine o’clock.’
    Her capitulation must have seemed suspiciously sudden, but a slight frown was quickly replaced by a smile of satisfaction.
    Cameron Adams was used to getting his own way, Riona imagined. One look from those dark blue eyes, the flash of a wicked smile, and women
    were brought to their knees. Sil y, susceptible women—there were enough of them in the world.
    Riona refused to be one.

    CHAPTER FOUR
    NINE, Riona had agreed, and by half-past eight she was standing outside the vil age store, waiting for the bus. She wasn’t alone. There was old
    Donald MacIver, travel ing to Inverness to see his daughter, and Betty Maclean, making a once-a-month trip to the chiropodist’s.
    She was just thinking she was home free when the BMW appeared from the other direction. She quickly turned her back, while Betty started to say,
    ‘Isn’t that himself? Why, he’s slowing down.’
    Riona’s heart sank. She assumed it was bad luck he’d come this way and spotted her, but it seemed not, as he drew to a halt beside her, and stepped out of the car. ‘Thought I’d catch you here. We must have got our times mixed up.’
    Of course he knew they hadn’t. He was speaking for their audience’s benefit, while his eyes flashed her another message, tel ing her she’d been
    outmanoeuvred.
    Riona might have argued, but he didn’t give her a chance, turning to say to the rest, ‘Are you waiting for the bus, too?’
    Donald gave a nod that suggested he would have doffed his cap had he been wearing one, while Betty beamed at him, saying ‘Aye, your lairdship,’
    in a suitably sycophantic manner.
    Riona just gritted her teeth.
    The American looked amused, as he invited them al to, ‘Climb on board.’
    Betty hesitated, flustered by the idea of travel ing in the laird’s car, but he opened the rear door and ushered her and Donald inside.
    That left Riona. Having shut in the rest of his passengers, he opened the front door for her. She stood where she was.
    ‘Come on,’ he said in an undertone, ‘surely I’m safe enough now.’
    ‘What do you mean?’ She frowned back.
    ‘I’ve got you two chaperons.’ He nodded towards Betty and Donald in the back of the car.
    Riona gritted her teeth once more at his gentle mockery, but, when he caught hold of her arm to press-gang her into the car, she put up no resistance.
    She was too conscious of Betty in the back; Betty’s nickname round Invergair was Betty the News. Riona didn’t want to give her anything juicy to report.
    The car journey took a little over an hour. Riona found every minute a strain; not so the rest. Cameron Adams soon put Betty at her ease and she
    gossiped most of the journey, while Donald clearly enjoyed speeding along in the BMW. When they arrived in Inverness, the American delivered them to their destination.
    ‘How to win friends and influence people,’ Riona muttered rather sourly, as they drew away from a broadly smiling Betty outside the chiropodist’s.
    ‘What’s wrong with that?’ he chal enged. ‘If I do move to Invergair, it wil make life a lot easier, being accepted by the locals.’
    ‘Wel , I think you’ve made a convert in Betty... your lairdship.’ She mimicked the other woman’s frequently used address to him.
    He laughed, before drawling back, ‘You know us Americans. We just love titles.’
    He’d obviously read her thoughts and was making fun of her. She lapsed into silence once more until they reached the town centre, then she
    announced crisply, ‘You can drop me here.’
    ‘Why? Where are you going?’ he asked, pul ing into a parking space.
    Riona decided it was none of his business, and said, ‘Nowhere in particular.’
    ‘You’re just going shopping,’ he concluded for himself. ‘That seems a fairly universal