people prefer it with sugar.’
‘The only way I’d drink it is topped up with gin. And given that I don’t touch alcohol, there’s no chance of that.’ Pulling a face, he emptied his glass onto the sand. ‘Where’s your boat moored?’
‘South Quay.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘In full public view.’
‘Yes.’ She scrambled to her feet and brushed the sand from her skirt. ‘We need to go via my house so that I can change, but that will only take a minute.’
‘You seriously want to sail? I thought you hated being the focus of people’s attention.’
‘I won’t be the focus,’ she muttered, carefully stacking everything back into the basket. ‘You will.’
She was being kind, he realised. Trying to show solidarity in front of the locals.
He probably ought to refuse but just as he opened his mouth to do just that, the wind gusted and he glanced at the waves breaking on the beach. ‘It’s a perfect afternoon for a sail.’
‘Then what are you waiting for?’ She walked towards the path. ‘Are you coming, Dr MacNeil? Or would you rather spend the afternoon being moody?’
She’d never had so much fun. The wind was gusting at five knots and Conner was a born sailor, with a natural feel for the wind and the sea and blessed with nerves of steel. And although they came close several times, he didn’t land them in the water.
As the water sprayed over the bows, Flora laughed in delight. ‘Who taught you to sail?’
‘Taught myself. Sank two boats in the process. Probably why Finn won’t rent me a boat. I always loved being on the water. The sea was the place where everything came together.’ He tightened the mainsheet as he turned the boat into the wind. ‘Ready about,’ he called. Flora released the jib sheet and they both ducked under the boom as the boat came swiftly around. The wind caught the sails and the boat accelerated smoothly away, the sea sparkling in the summer sunshine.
It was hours before they finally turned the boat back towards the jetty and Flora felt nothing but regret. ‘Do you ever feel like just sailing away and never looking back?’
‘All the time.’ He adjusted the sail. ‘What about you?’
‘Oh, yes.’ She gazed dreamily up at the sky, loving the feel of the wind and the spray on her face. ‘I love being on the boat. It’s just so easy and comfortable. No people. No problems.’
‘You are full of surprises, Flora Harris.’ Conner laughed. ‘I never imagined you were a sailor.’
‘I bought her with the money Dad left me when he died. He was the one who taught me to sail. I was hopeless at team sports at school because I was too shy. No one ever picked me. I think Dad realised that sailing would suit me. I love the freedom of the boat. And the fact that you’re away from people.’ She closed her eyes and let the sun warm her skin. ‘I’m always tense around people.’
‘You’re still incredibly shy, aren’t you?’
She opened her eyes. ‘Yes. But I’ve learned to act. That’s what you do as an adult, isn’t it? You act your way through situations that would have paralysed you as a child.’
‘Was it that bad?’
‘Yes.’ Her simple, honest response touched him.
‘I didn’t realise. I just thought you were studious.’
Flora stared at the quay, measuring the distance. ‘If I was absorbed in a book then no one bothered with me, and I preferred it that way. I liked being inconspicuous.’
‘So why did you come back to Glenmore? Logan said you were working in Edinburgh before this. I would have thought it was easier to be inconspicuous in a city.’
‘It’s also very lonely and I missed the scenery and the sailing. Coming back here seemed like the right thing to do.’
‘And was it?’
She glanced at him. ‘I don’t know. Even though I know they mean well, I can’t get used to the fact that everyone knows what everyone is doing.’
They approached the jetty and she released the jib sheet and the sail flapped in the wind. Conner turned the boat head to wind and brought her skilfully into the quay.
‘She’s pretty.’ He ran a hand over the mast and Flora felt her heart kick against her chest.
She wished she were the boat.
He leapt over the foredeck onto the quay and secured the boat to the jetty while Flora de-rigged the boat, wishing they could have stayed out on the water. Now that they were on dry land she was suddenly aware that she was with Conner MacNeil and that all the locals were watching them.
As usual, Conner was totally indifferent. ‘I had no idea your father encouraged you to indulge in such dangerous pastimes. My impression was that he kept you under lock and key. He was strict.’
‘Not strict, exactly. Protective.’ Flora stepped off the boat and onto the quay. Hot after the exertion, she removed her hat and her hair tumbled loose over her shoulders. ‘My mother died when I was very young and I think he was terrified that something would happen to me, too. He never relaxed if I was out.’
‘I don’t remember you ever going out. All my memories of you have books in them.’
Flora laughed. ‘That was partly my fault. I was painfully shy and books stopped me having to talk to people.’
‘So why aren’t you shy with me, Flora?’
Her eyes flew to his, startled. It was true, she realised. She’d had such fun she hadn’t once felt shy with him. Not once. ‘I’m never shy when I’m sailing.’
But she knew that it had nothing to do with the sailing and everything to do with the man.
She felt comfortable with Conner.
Unsettled by that thought, she looked across the quay at the throngs of tourists who were milling around on their way to and from the beach. ‘Can I treat you to a hot fudge sundae? Meg’s café is calorie heaven.’
‘I don’t think so.’ He checked that the boat was securely tied. ‘I just upset the balance of Glenmore. I’m like you. Better with the boat than people. I’ve never been any good at platitudes and all the other false things people say to each other.’
It was so close to the way she felt that for a moment she stood still. Who would have thought that she and Conner had so many similarities? ‘But you came back.’
He gave a careless shrug. ‘It was time.’
But it wouldn’t be for long, she knew that.
Suddenly she just wanted to drag him straight back on the boat and sail back out to sea. On the water she’d had glimpses of the person behind the bad boy. He’d been relaxed. Good-humoured. Now they were back on dry land his ice-blue eyes were wary and cynical, as though he was braced for criticism.
A commotion on the far side of the quay caught her eye and she squinted across the water. ‘I wonder why the ferry hasn’t left yet.’ Flora glanced at her watch. ‘It’s five past four. Jim always leaves at four o’clock sharp. He’s never late.’
‘Obviously he is today.’
‘What are they all staring at?’ An uneasy feeling washed over her. ‘Something is happening on the quay. Conner, I think someone must have fallen into the water.’
A woman started screaming hysterically and Flora paled as she recognised her.
‘That’s Jayne Parsons, from the dental surgery. Something must have happened to Lily. It must be little Lily in the water.’ She started to run, dodging groups of gaping tourists as she flew towards the other side of the quay.