well.'
Sandie bit her lip. 'You—you know that isn't going to happen.'
'Well, you never know what the fates have in store.' Flynn dumped a
couple of heavy canvas bags down into the boat. 'So, come aboard.'
She took a step forward, then hesitated, suddenly nervous. Couldn't
she be leaping out of the frying pan straight into the fire?
'Having second thoughts?' Flynn taunted. 'Scared to be alone with
me?' He laughed. 'Well, have no fear, Alexandra. A boat's no place
for a seduction. When you're sailing, there's too much else to do.
Besides, O'Flaherty,'s coming with me this afternoon, so he can
chaperone you.'
'I'm not scared,' she denied, lifting her chin. 'Do I need any special
gear? An extra sweater, perhaps.'
Flynn gestured towards some boxes and bundles already aboard. 'I
can lend you anything you need.'
He turned to O'Flaherty, who was coming down the path from the
house, with his arms full of other packages. 'We have a passenger.'
O'Flaherty's expression was forbidding. 'Is that a fact?' He fixed
Flynn with a basilisk stare. 'Do you know what you're doing, or are
you mad entirely? Haven't you set the whole house in an uproar
already with your antics?'
'Yes, I know what I'm doing,' Flynn returned calmly. 'Now, let's get
under way.'
To Sandie's relief, she was not called on to do anything to help, as
Graunuaille set sail. The two men worked swiftly and competently
round her as she sat, trying to be unobtrusive, in the stern.
It was startling to find how fast they were moving, she thought,
trying not to feel uneasy as the landing stage, and the boathouse, and
even Killane beyond them, became smaller and smaller. Nor had she
realised quite how large the lake was.
Her only previous experience of sailing had been cross-Channel
ferries, and these were no preparation for Graunuaille. Suddenly the
boat seemed very small and fragile, and herself with it. She glanced
up at the taut blue sails, and listened to the slap of the water against
the planking, and realised she had never been as aware of the
elements, or as close to them either.
The wind lifted her hair, making it stream behind her, and she
shivered. 'Here,' Flynn produced a navy Guernsey from a bag at his
feet and tossed it to her, 'put this on, if you're cold. And you'll find a
life-jacket in that locker.'
She gave him an alarmed look. 'Will I need it?'
'I hope not,' he said. 'Unless I make you walk the plank.'
He was smiling, because it was a joke, of course, and she tried to
summon up a dutiful grin in return, but it wasn't a success. And how
could he make jokes anyway, when he must know how miserable
she was— how shattered.
I shouldn't have come, she thought restlessly. I should have found a
hiding place, and wept it all out of me. I can't cry in front of Flynn.
He'd only sneer.
He'd have made a good pirate, she thought, stealing a look under her
lashes—and what was she doing so far from dry land and safety
with a man she didn't even trust?
What indeed? Sandie asked herself uneasily, and shivered again.
CHAPTER SIX
'YOU'RE very quiet. I hope you're not going to be sick.'
Sandie started out of her uncomfortable reverie. Flynn was still
smiling, but his eyes were cool and speculative as they rested on
her.
'I don't think so,' she returned, steadying her voice. 'She—she's a
lovely boat. Have you had her long?'
'Not this one. She was built for me specially a couple of years back.
But there's always been a Graunuaille at Killane. The first one I got
my hands on had belonged to my father, and it was in such a bad
state that it's a wonder I wasn't drowned.'
'The devil looks after his own, right enough,' O'Flaherty put in
sourly from the tiller.
'It's an unusual name.' Sandie took a deep breath, trying to put her
personal wretchedness out of her mind for a while. 'Has it any
particular meaning?'
'Only an Englishwoman would need to ask,' O'Flaherty muttered.
'Don't they teach you any history over
Sandie bit her lip. 'You—you know that isn't going to happen.'
'Well, you never know what the fates have in store.' Flynn dumped a
couple of heavy canvas bags down into the boat. 'So, come aboard.'
She took a step forward, then hesitated, suddenly nervous. Couldn't
she be leaping out of the frying pan straight into the fire?
'Having second thoughts?' Flynn taunted. 'Scared to be alone with
me?' He laughed. 'Well, have no fear, Alexandra. A boat's no place
for a seduction. When you're sailing, there's too much else to do.
Besides, O'Flaherty,'s coming with me this afternoon, so he can
chaperone you.'
'I'm not scared,' she denied, lifting her chin. 'Do I need any special
gear? An extra sweater, perhaps.'
Flynn gestured towards some boxes and bundles already aboard. 'I
can lend you anything you need.'
He turned to O'Flaherty, who was coming down the path from the
house, with his arms full of other packages. 'We have a passenger.'
O'Flaherty's expression was forbidding. 'Is that a fact?' He fixed
Flynn with a basilisk stare. 'Do you know what you're doing, or are
you mad entirely? Haven't you set the whole house in an uproar
already with your antics?'
'Yes, I know what I'm doing,' Flynn returned calmly. 'Now, let's get
under way.'
To Sandie's relief, she was not called on to do anything to help, as
Graunuaille set sail. The two men worked swiftly and competently
round her as she sat, trying to be unobtrusive, in the stern.
It was startling to find how fast they were moving, she thought,
trying not to feel uneasy as the landing stage, and the boathouse, and
even Killane beyond them, became smaller and smaller. Nor had she
realised quite how large the lake was.
Her only previous experience of sailing had been cross-Channel
ferries, and these were no preparation for Graunuaille. Suddenly the
boat seemed very small and fragile, and herself with it. She glanced
up at the taut blue sails, and listened to the slap of the water against
the planking, and realised she had never been as aware of the
elements, or as close to them either.
The wind lifted her hair, making it stream behind her, and she
shivered. 'Here,' Flynn produced a navy Guernsey from a bag at his
feet and tossed it to her, 'put this on, if you're cold. And you'll find a
life-jacket in that locker.'
She gave him an alarmed look. 'Will I need it?'
'I hope not,' he said. 'Unless I make you walk the plank.'
He was smiling, because it was a joke, of course, and she tried to
summon up a dutiful grin in return, but it wasn't a success. And how
could he make jokes anyway, when he must know how miserable
she was— how shattered.
I shouldn't have come, she thought restlessly. I should have found a
hiding place, and wept it all out of me. I can't cry in front of Flynn.
He'd only sneer.
He'd have made a good pirate, she thought, stealing a look under her
lashes—and what was she doing so far from dry land and safety
with a man she didn't even trust?
What indeed? Sandie asked herself uneasily, and shivered again.
CHAPTER SIX
'YOU'RE very quiet. I hope you're not going to be sick.'
Sandie started out of her uncomfortable reverie. Flynn was still
smiling, but his eyes were cool and speculative as they rested on
her.
'I don't think so,' she returned, steadying her voice. 'She—she's a
lovely boat. Have you had her long?'
'Not this one. She was built for me specially a couple of years back.
But there's always been a Graunuaille at Killane. The first one I got
my hands on had belonged to my father, and it was in such a bad
state that it's a wonder I wasn't drowned.'
'The devil looks after his own, right enough,' O'Flaherty put in
sourly from the tiller.
'It's an unusual name.' Sandie took a deep breath, trying to put her
personal wretchedness out of her mind for a while. 'Has it any
particular meaning?'
'Only an Englishwoman would need to ask,' O'Flaherty muttered.
'Don't they teach you any history over
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