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CHAPTER THREE

STUNNED, Meagan looked at Cameron and then at the young boy. The resemblance was there in the dark hair and full lips, although the child had his mother’s eyes. So Cameron and Rachel were together—what on earth did he think he had been playing at a little while ago? Stroking her arm, mentioning their night together? Meagan felt her heart plummet. Somehow she had always thought herself still a little bit in love with Cameron’s memory and now it was sullied forever. With sickening clarity she realised he was just like Charlie.

‘Meagan, I’d like you to meet my son, Ian. Ian, this is Dr Galbraith.’

‘Happy to meet you,’ Ian said, holding out his hand to Meagan. His serious expression and behaviour was that of a much older child. She shook his hand gravely.

‘Nice to meet you,’ she said pleased her voice sounded steady, but inside her thoughts were whirling around. He was married? To Rachel? And a son. Why hadn’t he said anything? Had he been married back then? If so, what a fool she had been. No wonder he didn’t seem to want her here.

‘I am pleased to meet you too,’ the young boy said formally.

‘And you’ve met my ex-wife, Rachel?’

Rachel smiled enigmatically. ‘Oh, this is just a temporary blip, darling,’ she drawled. ‘As soon as you see sense and come back to London, everything will be back as it should be.’

Cameron frowned. He indicated Ian with a tip of his head. ‘Not now, Rachel,’ he said, his voice a river of steel. The tension between him and Rachel was palpable. He turned to the young boy, who was looking anxiously from one to the other. ‘I can’t play with you just now, mo ghaol, but I promise to after lunch. Deal?’

‘What about Dr Galbraith?’ Ian asked. ‘Is she going to stay for lunch? I could show her my den.’ He turned to Meagan, looking up at her with soulful brown eyes. ‘My daddy told me the new doctor is a good sailor. I love going out on boats. Can I go out with you?’

‘I would love to take you out sailing one day,’ Meagan replied, laughing. ‘And I would love to see your den. But I have to go right now, so maybe another time?’

The young boy nodded, satisfied, before running off to continue his game. As she looked after him, she felt her heart squeeze. At one time she’d thought she would be the mother of just such a little boy.

Her mind racing with the turn events had taken, all Meagan wanted was to put as much distance as possible between her and the couple in front of her. She needed time to think.

Rachel hooked her slim arm in Cameron’s with an easy familiarity. ‘Cameron,’ she said, smiling into his eyes, ‘I do hope you’ve invited Meagan to the ball. We could do with a new face to liven things up.’

‘Jessie did mention a ball earlier,’ Meagan said. ‘Thank you for the invitation, but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline. If Cameron is going—which I am sure he is—then I’ll be on call. Besides, I didn’t bring anything suitable to wear.’

‘Oh, don’t worry about dresses. I’ve got plenty. You’d be more than welcome to take your pick. Although—’ she eyed Meagan’s figure critically ‘—they might need some adjusting. Mrs MacLeod is pretty good with a needle.’

Cheek, Meagan thought furiously. Just because Rachel didn’t have an ounce of fat on her!

‘Don’t worry, Meagan, the whole practice will be there. Everyone is looking forward to it.’ Cameron spoke before Meagan could formulate another refusal.

But Rachel, considering the discussion closed, moved on. She smiled seductively up at Cameron. ‘Ian is so looking forward to spending some time with his daddy and mummy,’ Rachel said, reaching up to Cameron and touching his cheek with a long finger. ‘And so am I.’ Without waiting for a reply, she turned and sashayed back to the house.

Cameron watched her go, his expression inscrutable.

Meagan turned to Cameron. ‘I’m not really expected to go to this ball, am I?’

‘Yep, sorry. Doctor’s orders. It will give you the chance to mix with locals and dignitaries alike. Colin thinks it’s good public relations for everyone to attend—the whole practice will be there. Colin and his wife should be back for it, if it makes you feel better.’

Meagan felt annoyed at the cavalier manner with which he seemed to be arranging her social life. But was it just that? she wondered. She felt angry with him for not mentioning his marriage or child. But it wasn’t as if it was any of her business. Likewise, what she did in her spare time was her own affair.

‘What gives you the right to accept invitations on my behalf?’

‘I’m sorry. But I’m afraid you’ll just have to accept that on a small island such as this, to refuse an invitation is to give offence.’

Meagan bristled. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to go to hell, but she swallowed her annoyance. He was her boss after all.

‘Very well,’ she conceded. ‘If you put it like that, I suppose I can’t refuse.’

‘Good, that’s settled, then. Would you like to stay for lunch?’

‘No, if I am allowed to refuse any invitations at all, I’d rather not. I’ve still to unpack.’

‘Of course you don’t have to stay for lunch. It’s perfectly understandable that you have things to do. I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Eight-thirty? I can give you a quick tour and a rundown of the patients before surgery.’ He spoke calmly, politely, as if they were perfect strangers, which Meagan supposed they were.

Before she had a chance to reply, he turned on his heel and crossed over to his son. Laughing, he swooped him into his arms and tossed him into the air. With the sound of delighted childish giggles ringing in her ears, Meagan started walking back to her house, realising as she did so that she had left her medical bag and boots at the house. Loath to face Cameron or Rachel again until she had time to get her emotions under control, she decided that she would collect them later.

Stomping down the road to her cottage, she noticed an elderly female figure dressed in a tweed suit and headscarf coming towards her.

‘Good morning!’ the woman greeted her. ‘I thought I’d look in on you on my way to getting the church ready for evening service.’ A gnarled hand was offered. ‘I’m the housekeeper—Mrs McLeod, but call me Flora. We don’t hold much with ceremony here. Welcome to Uist—I hope you’ll be happy here.’

‘Oh, Mrs McLeod—Flora. Nice to meet you. Thank you for the fire and provisions you left last night. You’ve no idea how welcome they were.’

‘Aye, I heard you’d got yourself into a bit of difficulty on the road,’ Flora said, with a suspicious gleam in her eye.