Island of the Heart (7 page)

note in his voice sent a prickle of tense awareness down her spine.

She said, 'It's hardly any wonder Crispin vanishes if you—persecute

him like this.'

Flynn laughed. 'Persecute, is it?' he queried mockingly. He shook

his head. 'Maybe I'm just trying to redress the balance of a lifetime

of indulgence from Magda, in the first place, and a succession of

pretty little blondes like yourself in the second.' v Sandie hoped she

had concealed the pang his words had caused. She said curtly, 'Well,

you can exclude me from that category, Mr Killane. As I've tried to

make clear to you more than once, I'm here to work.'

'Of
course. How could
I
have forgotten?' The blue eyes swept her

mockingly once more. 'You're the very epitome of what a working

girl should be.'

She bit her lip. 'I'd be in the music room at this moment, if you

hadn't driven Crispin away.'

'I'll try and remember what a sensitive soul he is in future,' said

Flynn. He gave her a last, derisive look, clicked his tongue to the

horse, and moved off, breaking into an easy canter.

'Can't he just ride!' James said enviously, spreading out his towel

and throwing himself down on to it. 'O'Flaherty says he could have

been world class, better even than his father, if he'd stuck to it

instead of commerce.' He sighed. 'We wish he'd come back here for

good, don't we, Steffie? Then maybe he'd have us with him all the

time.'

With a pang of sympathy Sandie remembered what Crispin had told

her of the twins' background.

'But this really is your home, isn't it?'

The two exchanged rueful glances. 'Well, it is and it isn't,' Steffie

said reluctantly. 'We're away at boarding school mostly, and

sometimes, when Mother's touring, she arranges holidays for us with

friends of hers—people who owe her favours—but we'd rather be

here.'

'Only Flynn doesn't come as often as he used to,' James said

mournfully. 'O'Flaherty says he gets sick, as who wouldn't, of

having a decent house turned into a class of rehearsal-room.'

'Apart from the fact that he and Crispin hate each other,' Steffie

added.

Sandie was aware she probably shouldn't be listening to all this, but

found it quite irresistible.

She said tentatively, 'I suppose—your brother tends to feel the odd

one out, with all this music?'

'It's not just that,' James said scornfully. 'Flynn and Crispin always

fought like cat and dog, generally over women,' he added with a

worldly air. 'Mrs Doherty from the gift shop says they were a pair of

devils, always stealing and snatching each other's girls, and that

nothing in a skirt was safe from them from here to Dublin.'

Sandie's brows drew together. 'I don't think we should be talking

like this about your brothers' private affairs,' she said stiltedly.

The twins looked at each other and hooted. 'There wasn't much

private about them. The world and his wife had them under

discussion,' Steffie told her kindly. 'They'll be talking about you

next.'

'Well, I'd prefer them not. to,' Sandie said hotly. 'Besides, there's

nothing to talk about.'

'Except that Flynn and Crispin have been bawling each other out

ever since you got here.' James gave her an angelic smile.

'And I don't understand the reason,' Sandie said despairingly. 'Why

does Flynn resent my being here?'

'Oh, he doesn't approve because of Francesca.'

'Francesca?' Sandie echoed slowly. 'Who is Francesca?'

The twins collapsed into paroxysms of mirth again.

'God, don't you know anything?' Steffie demanded between giggles.

'Why, she's Crispin's wife, of course.'

Sandie felt as if she'd been turned to stone. Crispin was—married?

But it wasn't possible. She'd never heard any mention of a wife in

any of the publicity about him. And if it was true, why hadn't he told

her?

All at once the little secret dreams she'd been harbouring about him

seemed not merely pathetic, but dangerous.

She drew a breath. 'I really shouldn't be letting you tell me these

things. It isn't right...'

'Who's to hear us?' James asked practically. 'Anyway, you needn't

consider us. We're used to broken homes round here.'

'And you don't have to worry,' Steffie added kindly. 'She and Crispin

were always rowing at each other. In the end she walked out on him.

She hasn't been back for two years, so he'll be about ready to fall in

love again.'

'But you can't expect Flynn to be too pleased. Apart from anything,

Francesca's parents still live over there at Croaig Mhor. And people

round here still look down their noses at divorced people. Mrs

Cadogan from the hotel says Mother is forgiven because she was

widowed from her first true husband besides being a great artist, and

judged differently from the rest of us.'

'Now look,' Sandie said with a touch of desperation as she digested

all this, 'you mustn't get the wrong idea. I've come to Killane to—to

play the piano, that's all.'

Another glance was exchanged and two heads nodded wisely.

'That's what Francesca used to say, every time she came over to the

house. She was a pianist too,' said James, and grinned at her.

'In fact when you walked in yesterday, we all thought...' Steffie

paused with a yelp, as James gave her a shrewd kick.

'Yes?' Sandie prompted rather tautly. 'What did you all think,

precisely?'

'Oh, it doesn't matter,' Steffie mumbled after a pause. 'I think I'll go

for another swim.'

It was clear the twins had decided they'd been indiscreet enough for

one day, Sandie thought as she reached for her jeans. The sun was

still blazing down, but she felt suddenly icily cold. She had to force

herself to speak normally.

'I think I'd better be getting back to the house. I— I ought to

practise...'

'Can you find your own way?' James asked. 'We'll stay here for a

while.'

'I'll be fine,' Sandie agreed hastily.

She was trembling as she cycled off, her mind dazedly trying to

make some kind of sense out of what she'd been told. At least some

of the question marks which had been hanging over her since she'd

arrived at Killane had now been answered, but not in the way she'd

expected or wanted, she thought forlornly.

And it explained some of Flynn Killane's hostility too, but not all.

What right has he to set himself up as some kind of moral arbiter on

Crispin, anyway? she asked herself angrily. He's nothing but a

hypocrite, if what the twins said is true.

Stealing and snatching, she thought, and grimaced. She couldn't

imagine any woman in her right mind preferring a boor and a bully

like Flynn to Crispin. And If Crispin made a mistake in marrying

this Francesca, that surely doesn't mean he has to forfeit all future

chance of happiness, she argued.

Flynn Killane seemed to be taking his self-assumed responsibilities

as head of the house much too far. But he won't win, Sandie

thought, lifting her face defiantly to the breeze. He won't spoil

things. Because I won't let him.

And she shivered suddenly, as she was struck by the absurd

conviction that—somewhere, somehow— Flynn Killane had heard

her silent challenge—and accepted it.

THE music helped, as it always did. As Sandie played, she felt her

inner turmoil quietly subsiding as all her emotional concentration

became centred on the notes she was trying to interpret.

Magda, she thought, would have nothing to complain of tomorrow.

As she played, she was marginally conscious of the panorama of

lake and trees outside the huge window. The sight of the sun

sparkling on the water seemed to calm and uplift her at the same

time.

It was amazing, she thought, that someone as basically insensitive

and—earthy—as Flynn Killane could have deliberately provided

such an environment for the making of music, when it was

something he didn't even approve of.

But then he was obviously a mass of contradictions, she decided

with a shrug, and certainly not worth the amount of mental energy

she seemed to be expending on him. But it was hard to dismiss him

completely from her thoughts in the light of the twins' revelations,

she told herself with an odd defensiveness.

And it was infuriating the way he kept intruding between her

consciousness and the things that really mattered—like Crispin's

Elegy,
for example.

She took up it up and placed it on the stand, studying it frowningly,

trying over a few of the opening chords. It was an amazingly

complex composition, and far more technically demanding than

anything she'd ever attempted in the past. But then Crispin had

criticised her for being unadventurous, she thought with a mental

shrug. Perhaps this was his way of launching her into the musical

deeps.

She struggled with it for half an hour, then put it aside with a sigh,

glad that he hadn't been around to hear her fumblings after all. But

at the same time she couldn't help wishing that he'd stayed—given

her his support—even explained exactly why Flynn was gunning for

her.

Flynn again, she realised with total exasperation. And until she

could dismiss him and his machinations from her brain, she was

simply wasting her time here. She glanced at her watch and saw it

was getting late. So it was probably best to call it a day, anyway.

She closed the piano and went up to her room to change for dinner.

'So there you are!' Crispin was standing beside the window.

'Darling, where on earth have you been? Bridie said you'd gone out

somewhere with the twins.'

'I did—for a little while. We went swimming. But I've been back for

ages—in the music room.'

'Well, it doesn't matter,' he said dismissively. 'Hurry up and change,

my sweet, and I'll take you out for a meal.'

Her heart skipped a beat. 'I—I don't think that would be very

sensible, in the circumstances.'

'What on earth are you talking about?' His brows drew together.

Sandie bit her lip. 'Crispin, why didn't you tell me you were

married?'

'So that's it,' he said ruefully. 'My poor sweet, have you been

worrying your head off about the fact that I have a wife somewhere?

Because you really needn't, you know. Come out to dinner with me,

and I'll tell you all about it.'

'Do you think we should?'

'Well, it will certainly be less wearing on the nervous system than

eating here, and a damned sight more private,' he said shortly. 'I

gather Magda worked a miracle and persuaded Flynn you were

staying.'

'Yes, she did,' Sandie bit her lip. 'But I think slie may be regretting

it. Our—first session didn't go terribly well this morning.'

'Well, that was rather silly, sweetheart. Particularly when she's gone

out of her way to help you.'

'I'm sorry,' Sandie said rather coolly, stung by the note of censure in

his voice. 'But you weren't the only one to have—a traumatic

interview with the master of the house today.'

Crispin sent her a repentant look. 'My poor girl! Was he a swine to

you?'

'Yes,' she said baldly. She hesitated. 'Crispin, do you really think it

was a good idea to bring me here- all things considered?'

'Darling, I didn't know Flynn was going to descend on. as like a ton

of bricks. He normally avoids the place like the plague when we're

all here, and especially when I'm among those present. But you don't

have to worry. He'll be gone soon, I promise.' He ran a smiling but

at the same time critical eye over her casual attire. 'Now be quick

and put on something pretty for me.'

Sandie noted with dismay that he showed no signs of taking his

departure. Surely he didn't intend to stay in the room while she

changed her clothes? Perhaps it was the kind of thing other girls

took in their stride, but it was altogether too intimate a situation for

her to handle this early in their relationship—especially when she

didn't even know if there could be a relationship.

She said stiltedly. 'I'll—see you downstairs, shall I?'

His brows lifted. 'Turning me out, sweetheart? Well, I'll accept it

this time—but you won't be shy of me forever, will you?'

She bent her head. 'I—I don't know. Crispin, I'm not sure what to

think any more.'

Crispin smiled, brushing her heated cheek with a careless finger as