Island of the Heart (6 page)

well—but you're not good enough to be a soloist in a million years,

and both you, and certainly Crispin, must know that, so let's forget

the cover story of burgeoning genius just waiting to be brought to

fruition and get down to brass tacks.'

Sandie drew a quivering breath. 'You,' she said, slowly and

distinctly, 'are the most hateful, obnoxious man I've ever had the

misfortune to meet. You're utterly wrong about me, and everything

about me. But I don't care about the kind of vile conclusions you've

drawn. I know I've got what it takes, and vrtth Crispin's help, I'm

going to prove it.' Her voice shook, and she paused to steady it. 'I've

come here to work,' she went on. 'Work—do you understand? Not—

not to flirt with your brother. I have talent, and I believe in myself.

And nothing you say or do is going to make the slightest difference,'

she added with a little sob.

He looked at her for a long moment, the blue eyes narrowed, then

shrugged again. 'In that case,' he said, 'I'm sincerely sorry for you.'

'And I don't want your bloody sympathy either!' she snapped

angrily. 'Oh, why did you have to come back—and spoil

everything?'

'Put it down to natural perversity,' he said. 'You fight well, Miss

Beaumont, although I enjoyed your struggles last night even more,'

he added with an elliptical grin. 'But appearances, your own in

particular, are against you. It's best you go back, to England without

delay, and I intend to make the necessary arrangements. You may

not believe it now, but it's for your own good.'

The door behind them burst open and Magda Sinclair surged into

the room. She was wearing a scarlet silk caftan this morning,

lavishly embroidered with dragons, but the tartan scarf still

protected her throat.

'Flynn darling,' she exclaimed, 'Crispin tells me you're planning to

send this charming child away. But you can't—you simply can't!'

Flynn's expression suggested he was counting to ten very slowly. He

said quietly, 'And why is that, precisely?'

'Because there's been some terrible misunderstanding,' Magda said

earnestly. 'Sandie's come here for me—to take poor Janet's places—

although why on earth she had to marry that man—but what's the

use?' She paused. 'And this dear girl has given up her summer to

help me instead. Isn't that sweet of her?'

'Sweet,' drawled Flynn, 'is not the word. There seems no end to Miss

Beaumont's versatility. But I'm afraid you'll have to look elsewhere

for your accompanist, Mother. The young lady is leaving us shortly.'

'Oh, but that's quite impossible,' Magda said swiftly. 'Why, it might

take me weeks—months even- to find someone suitable. And

darling Sandie's right here on the spot, and ideal for the job. I won't

let you take her away from me.'

'That's nonsense, and we both know it.' Flynn was tight-lipped. 'Miss

Beaumont is far from irreplaceable. Whatever Crispin may have

claimed, there are better pianists around too.'

'But I like her.' Magda spread her hands dramatically. 'Oh, Flynn

darling, sometimes you can be so- unkind—unthinking even. When

I remember your beloved father—so sensitive to my every need.'

Her eyes filled with sudden tears. 'How can I explain to you? I need

someone who is
sympathique.
Someone I can get on with. Rapport

between us is essential.' Her shoulders slumped dejectedly. 'But

what's the use? You've never understood the artistic temperament.'

'Perhaps not, but sheer bloody-mindedness doesn't cause me too

many problems,' Flynn said with a kind of weary anger. 'I don't need

to ask who's prompted this little outburst.' He shrugged. 'Let Crispin

have his way, then, as he usually does.' He went round and sat down

behind his desk. 'And now, as we all have so much work to do,

maybe we should get on with some of it.'

'Of course.' Magda's face was wreathed with smiles. 'I knew you'd

see you were being the teensiest bit hasty over poor Sandie.' She

took Sandie's arm. 'Come along, my dear.'

Sandie followed her to the music room, feeling slightly stunned.

She said quietly, 'I'm very grateful to you, Mrs Sinclair, and I'll try

not to disappoint you.' She paused. 'I got the impression yesterday

that you didn't really think I was suitable.'

'Well, that rather remains to be seen,' Magda Sinclair said briskly.

'But Flynn does tend to be rather overbearing in these matters,

particularly where Crispin's concerned. And he'd done quite enough

harm in that direction already. Now my boy deserves a little

happiness.'

Sandie bit her lip. Her own private dreams were one thing, but she

didn't want the rest of the household sharing Flynn's unpleasantly

biassed view of what she was really doing at Killane.

She said awkwardly, 'I hope you don't think...'

'What I think is that it's time we got down to some serious practice,'

said Magda, in a voice that brooked no argument. 'I've decided to

add some traditional ballads to my usual repertoire for the autumn.

You'll find a selection in that green folder in the end cupboard. We'll

do some exercises, then run through a few of them—see what might

be suitable.' She gave Sandie a firm smile. 'Now, let's start, shall we,

my dear? The morning is nearly over.'

In retrospect, Sandie decided it was the most trying and demanding

couple of hours that she had ever spent.

Crispin's hint that Magda was not always easy to get on with proved

to be more than justified. She let Sandie see that her nervousness

and lack of experience were severe irritants, and she made few

allowances for either of them.

And because Sandie was so tense after that traumatic confrontation

with Flynn, she found she was making more mistakes than usual—

playing like an absolute tiro, she realised with dismay.

She could not be thankful that neither the sound of her struggles nor

Magda's strictures could penetrate the walls of the music room, or

Flynn Killane would have something to sneer about in earnest, she

thought unhappily.

'Well, that was far from satisfactory,' Magda said at last, her face

taut with displeasure. 'You are going to have to try much harder than

that, my dear. Your sight-reading is poor in the extreme. I imagine

your examiners have commented on it in the past.'

Sandie bent her head, staring down at the keys. 'No,' she returned

despondently, 'it's usually quite good. I—I must be a little on edge.'

'Then I'd be grateful if you'd pull yourself together before our next

session,' Magda said waspishly, and swept out of the room in a swirl

of dragons.

Sandie knew an overwhelming urge to put her head down on the

keyboard and bawl like a baby, before going to the study and asking

Flynn Killane to put her on the next flight to England. But I won't

give him fhe bloody satisfaction, she decided savagely, thumping

out a few discords to relieve her mangled feelings.

Much to her relief, lunch was not a formal meal conducted
en

famille.
Cold salmon and a variety of salads were placed on the

sideboard in the dining- room, and people wandered in and helped

themselves, buffet style.

The twins returned from their ride, mercifully intact.

'We're going for a swim this afternoon,' Steffie informed Sandie,

helping herself lavishly to the strawberries and cream that formed

the dessert. 'Do you want to come?'

Sandie shook her head. 'I don't think I'd better.'

'Well, you won't be wanted for anything else.' Steffie gave a giggle.

'Crispin's gone off in the car in a towering rage. He won't be back

till this evening. And Mother always rests in the afternoon.'

'Come on down to the beach,' James put in. 'You may as well while

you have the chance. O'Flaherty says it will be raining again

tomorrow.'

'All right, then,' Sandie accepted, trying to hide swift

disappointment. She'd wondered all morning where Crispin was.

She'd needed desperately for him to reappear and give her self-

confidence a boost. The fact that he'd apparently stormed off

without even knowing whether she was to go or stay was something

of a blow.

And it would undoubtedly be a relief to get away from the house

and its pressures, she thought, and bit her lip. What a way to feel

when she'd been there less than twenty-four hours!

But it would all have been so different if only Flynn Killane hadn't

returned, she told herself passionately. Oh, why couldn't he have

stayed—a thousand miles away, as Jessica had said?

The twins found her a bicycle, and an hour later she found herself

cycling with them down the narrow lane that led to the sea. The

wind had dropped, and the sun felt warm on her back, and almost in

spite of herself, Sandie's spirits rose. She felt more cheerful still

when they arrived at the beach—a perfect crescent of pale yellow

sand, sloping gently into the cream- edged blue of the Atlantic.

The twins threw their bikes down on to the short turf that fringed the

sand, and charged off, leaving Sandie to follow more slowly,

picking up the outer garments they'd discarded and placing them,

folded, on a convenient flat rock. Like the twins, she was wearing

her swimsuit underneath her clothes, and she peeled off jeans and T-

shirt without haste. The sea looked cold, and it didn't disappoint her,

but once she'd nerved herself to take the plunge she found the water

refreshing and exhilarating.

James had brought a ball, and they played a noisy and cheerful game

of 'catch', aiming the ball near rather than directly at each other to

ensure maximum drenching.

Eventually Sandie called a laughing halt, and waded out to get her

towel. She'd blotted the worst of the moisture from her shoulders

and arms and was wringing out her hair when she heard the

approaching sound of a horse's hooves. She glanced casually over

her shoulder, then froze.

'It's Flynn,' James called out, quite unnecessarily. 'He's on Aran Lad.

Don't they look grand together?'

Sandie was glad she was not expected to reply. The twins ran up to

Flynn and jogged alongside, as he slowed the handsome chestnut

gelding he was riding to a walk.

Sandie, scrubbing the towel wildly over her legs, sent him a fleeting

glance, and saw with a kind of chagrin how much younger and more

attractive he looked as he responded smilingly to the twins' excited

chatter. He could be pleasant when he wanted to, it seemed.

Keep on walking, she prayed silently, as the gelding drew level with

her. Oh, please keep going.

But he didn't, of course. As he reined the horse in, it tossed its head

and executed a neat sideways dance. Sandie caught her breath,

hoping against hope to see Flynn Killane being dumped on his

arrogant head in the sand. But to her annoyance Flynn controlled his

mount effortlessly, bringing it to a docile standstill.

Sandie, bitterly aware of him looming over her, made herself meet

his gaze, and immediately wished she hadn't. Her swimsuit was

conventional in the extreme, cut high on the hip, and square across

her small, firm breasts, but the way he was looking at her, she could

have been naked, she realised with a swift shock of embarrassment.

She'd never been deliberately mentally undressed by a man before,

and helpless colour rose in her face as Flynn's eyes surveyed her

with merciless and explicit sexual curiosity. She was tempted to

snatch up the towel and hold it in front of her like a shield, but she

suspected that any such move on her part would only cause him

more cynical amusement, and refrained.

'Enjoying your afternoon of leisure, Miss Beaumont?' His voice was

silky.

'More than I enjoyed this morning,' Sandie returned shortly, and he

laughed.

'Really? So, my mother gave you a hard time, did she? Maybe

Crispin should have warned you that when she picks up the cudgels

on anyone's behalf, there's invariably a price to be paid.'

'Crispin wasn't around to warn me.'

'Well, that's another thing you'll have to accustom yourself to,

darling, if you remain with us for any length of time. Crispin deals

with his problems by running away from them.'

'Oh, I shall be staying, Mr Killane.' She gave him a defiant look. 'I

thought that question had already been settled.'

'Don't count on a thing, Miss Beaumont.' He was smiling, but the