Island of the Heart (14 page)

doubted whether she could have carried it through, in all honesty.

As she'd sat beside the newly kindled turf fire, watching Flynn make

the preparations for the meal, she'd been pierced with hunger, her

mouth watering ravenously as the aroma of the grilling steak

reached her nostrils.

Every mouthful had been delicious, she thought wistfully,

remembering the buttery potatoes bursting from their jackets, and

the accompanying tomato salad.

'Thank you,' she said awkwardly. 'You—you're a very good cook.'

'I like food,' Flynn returned as he carried the dishes and crockery to

the sink. 'And I spend too much of my life being confronted by the

plastic variety.'

It was odd to think of him in planes and skyscraper office blocks,

she realised, and said so.

'You seem so at home here,' she added rather shyly.

'I am,' he said. 'Or I would be if Magda didn't insist on turning

Killane into some kind of three-ring circus. When I'm heart-sick of

trouble-shooting for corporations who can't get their sums right, I

dream sometimes of buying myself a place, which is mine and no

one else's, and breeding horses.'

'Does it have to stay a dream?'

'Probably.' He began to run water into the sink. 'When I was much

younger I had my future all mapped out—one long panorama of

boats and horses—even a suitable marriage. But nothing ever turns

out as you think it will. I was found to have this gift with figures,

antf shown the kind of success it could bring me. I'd have been

crazy not to go after it.'

'Do you still think so?'

He smiled faintly. 'The older you get, the more doubts you have,' he

said. 'But my chosen career has brought me most of the things

people want from life. I've travelled the world, and I've made more

money than I can ever hope to spend.' He shook his head. 'And if I

was in London or Paris at this moment, I wouldn't be talking like

this. It's when I come back to Killane that I start to ask myself

questions, and particularly when I'm here, in the place where I keep

what's left of my sanity.'

Sandie found herself listening with a kind of wonder. It was strange

to hear Flynn talk like this, without mockery or the aggression

which had marked so many of their previous encounters. He wasn't

like the same person at all, she thought, then caught at herself. But

he
was
the same—and worse. He'd treated her abominably from first

to last, and she couldn't allow herself to be beguiled into forgetting

that—or softening towards him in any way.

'Kidnapping me isn't a particularly sane thing to do,' she said

crossly.

'But remarkably effective, just the same: Don't panic, Alexandra.

You'll be delivered back in a few days, in one piece, with no ransom

demanded. I'm sorry there's no piano for you to play, but you can't

have everything.' He slanted a glance at her mutinous expression.

'And there's no way out until O'Flaherty comes back for us, so you

may as well relax and make the best of things, as I intend to.'

The best of things, she thought miserably. Until darkness actually

fell, she'd still entertained hopes that she'd be rescued. She'd even

entertained a momentary fantasy that Crispin might come sailing out

of the sunset to her aid, until common sense had reminded her how

impossible that was. No, as Flynn had prophesied, he was simply

glad to have her out of the way.

'I still don't know how you got away with this.' She glared at him.

'You couldn't have known I was going to come down to the

boathouse just then.'

'No, that was a piece of luck for me,' he said calmly. 'I was about to

come and find you—invite you out on to the water.'

'But there was no guarantee I'd have agreed to come. What if I'd

refused?'

'I'd have persuaded you,' he said, and smiled at her. 'One way or the

other.'

'You mean strong-arm tactics, I suppose,' Sandie said with

contempt.

'If all else failed,' he agreed casually. 'But I knew it wouldn't come

to that. You'd been disappointed in love, after all, and left to kick

your heels all day. Even if Francesca had taken my advice, and

stayed away until tomorrow, you were ripe for a little adventure.'

She said shakily, 'Well, I got that all right.' She paused. 'But you

haven't considered all the snags. I'm sure you've brought plenty of

food, but that isn't everything. We could be here for days, and I only

have the clothes I'm wearing.'

'I've thought of that too.' Flynn pointed to one of the canvas bags.

'You'll find a selection of your own gear in there. And before you

start accusing me of raping your wardrobe, let me tell you Jessica

picked the stuff out, not myself.'

'Jessica did? You mean she was in on this too? Oh God, I don't

believe it! And I suppose the twins helped bring it all down to the

boat.'

He laughed. 'No, although I dare say they would have if I'd asked

them.'

'I didn't realise they all hated me so much,' she said bitterly.

Flynn gave her a surprised look. 'They don't,' he said. 'And why

should they?'

'Because they helped you, even O'Flaherty. They let you do this to

me.'

'But it wasn't through dislike of you,' he said quite gently. 'It's just

that they're fond of Francesca. She's his wife, after all, and you're

the other woman in this little scenario. We may seem an eccentric

crowd, God knows, but this is a conventional part of the world, and

they're bound to be prejudiced.'

'But I'm not the other woman,' she said wearily. 'Crispin offered me

a chance to develop my music, just when I'd lost all hope, that was

all. He was going to coach me, and in return I was going to be your

mother's temporary accompanist. It was a business arrangement. I—

I didn't know he was married. He never mentioned it...'

'I'm sure he didn't,' Flynn said ironically. 'And of course you weren't

the slightest bit flattered or excited by all this attention from the

famous Crispin Sinclair. And if he'd had one eye, a hump, and a

hare lip it wouldn't have made the least difference, either.' He

paused. 'Not to mention that you're the image of his wife.'

'Of course I was flattered,' Sandie said in a low voice. 'I wouldn't

have been human otherwise.' She swallowed. 'But I didn't have the

least idea about Francesca. I wasn't aware that she existed—let alone

that we were the image of each other.' She shook her head. 'Yes, I

found Crispin attractive. Naturally I did. I didn't know it was a

crime.'

'Nor is it.' His voice gentled a little. 'The truth is, Alexandra, you

were in too deep before you ever got here. You arrived to a situation

you'd no notion of, and you wouldn't listen to a soul who tried to

warn you.'

'Well, I'm paying for it now,' she said. 'You'll be delighted to hear I

wish I'd never set eyes on Killane— or any of the people in it. I feel

such an utter fool. I don't know how I'm going to face any of them

again.'

'Well, for the time being, you won't have to,' Flynn said briskly.

'And everyone's entitled to make a fool of themselves once' in a

lifetime. The trick's to avoid repeating the performance.'

'I suppose so.' She bit her lip. 'And now, if it's possible to have some

privacy I'd like to go to bed. I've got a terrible headache.'

'There's aspirin and stuff in that drawer over there. Help yourself to

whatever you need.' He paused. 'Shall I open the bed for you?'

'I can manage.'

'As you wish, I like to go for a walk before I turn in, so you'll have

the place to yourself entirely for the next hour. I'll come in quietly

so as not to disturb you.'

'Thank you,' she said icily. 'You're all consideration.'

'But I need not be,' he said. 'This is as great a hardship for me as it is

for you, Alexandra, so don't forget that, and push me too far. The

only way we'll get through the next few days unscathed is if we both

, make a genuine effort to get on with each other. Goodnight.'

Sandie watched his tall figure walk through the door and out into the

darkness.

Reluctantly she fetched the canvas bag, and checked the contents.

Jessica, it seemed, had thought of everything. She took her toilet bag

and towel, and went through the bedroom to the bathroom which

had been built on to it. It was small, but functional.

She washed hastily, and got into nightdress and dressing gown.

Flynn had said an hour, but how could she trust any of his promises?

On her way back to the living-room she paused, looking enviously

at the low, wide bed, with its clean line, duvet and fat, comfortable

pillows which he would be occupying.

And I have to make do on that folding thing, she thought

wretchedly. The age of chivalry really is over!

Her headache was getting worse by the moment. In fact she felt

aches and pains in every muscle and joint, and struggling with the

bed didn't improve her general malaise.

She placed the aired sleeping bag on the mattress and climbed into

it, zipping it up to her chin, then lay staring at the glow of the turf

fire. She was alone here with Flynn, in the middle of nowhere, and

she felt terrible.

Magda wished this cold on me, she thought miserably, and felt tears

pricking at her eyelids.

The cottage was making small, settling noises, and outside in the

stillness, a bird called forlornly.

Sandie had never felt so isolated—so afraid. She could almost be

grateful that Flynn had not adhered to his plan of just abandoning

her here on her own.

But where was he? She squinted at her watch, and saw to her

amazement that only about fifteen minutes had passed since he'd

left. If time was going to pass as slowly as this, then the next few

days were going to prove an eternity.

The first scalding drops of water began to trickle down her face, and

she scrubbed them away fiercely with her fists. Flynn was not going

to come back and find her weeping like a baby.

She had to think positively. Everything would be different

tomorrow, and Crispin would come to fetch her. Whatever his

motivation for bringing her to Killane., and even if he didn't care for

her in the way she'd naively hoped, he was still responsible for

her— and he wouldn't just leave her there.

My headache will be better too tomorrow, she assured herself, and I

won't feel so totally grotty.

She tensed in every muscle as she heard the scrape of the latch, and

lay very still, with her back to the door, and her eyes so tightly shut

they were almost painful.

He came in as quietly as he'd promised, but she was conscious of

every careful movement he made. Desperately aware that instead of

going straight to his room, he had come to her side, and was

standing there in the dying firelight looking down at her.

He said very softly, 'Alexandra?'

Her teeth sank sharply into the softness of her lower lips. She forced

herself to remain motionless, to deepen her breathing in imitation of

sleep, until, after some endless time, she heard him go, and she was

alone.

She relaxed with agonising slowness, feeling her heartbeat pounding

against her ribs. Because for a moment—a few brief seconds—she'd

been tempted to respond—to speak—to turn to him.

And that was dangerous. That was the last thing in the world she

should do. And Flynn was the last man in the world...

She pressed her clenched fist against her trembling lips. Tomorrow,

she thought. Please let help come tomorrow—before it's too late.

THE TURF FIRE was blazing, and Flynn was building it higher and

higher. And she was trapped here in this bed, unable to escape from

the intense heat.

Sandie moaned feebly, flailing around inside the imprisoning

sleeping beg, which was pressing on every inch of her skin, hurting

her. Oh God, she ached all over, everywhere, and her head was the

worst.

From some immense distance she heard Flynn say curtly, 'What's

the matter?' Then, 'Good God, girl, you're burning up!'

'I know.' Her voice emerged as a hoarse croak. 'It's the fire. Please

put out the fire.'

'It's been out for hours. Easy now.' She felt herself lifted, sleeping

bag and all, and carried. She wanted to protest, but it was so much

simpler to turn her heated face into the cool bare skin of Flynn's