Island of the Heart (22 page)

hired a private detective to find you.'

'Just so that you could put the record straight? Set your mind at rest

about being a father? Provide me with an explanation I don't need?'

'Not just for that, no.' Flynn put out a hand and stroked her cheek.

Sandie jumped away as if she'd been bitten. 'Don't do that,' she said

raggedly. 'Don't touch me!'

There was a silence. Flynn's eyes bored into her face for an endless

moment, then he gave a swift sigh. 'So that's the way of it,' he said,

half to himself. 'Well, Alexandra, may I at least drive you home?'

'You know where I live?'

'I was there earlier. Your mother told me about this job you were

doing.'

Sandie groaned inwardly, imagining the effect Flynn's descent on

them would have had on her parents. She wouldn't be able to avoid

explanations this time, she thought dejectedly.

'I can walk,' she said.

'I know that, but I'd prefer to escort you just the same. My car's

parked round the corner.'

There was a note in his voice which brooked no further argument.

That and the firmness of his hand beneath her elbow. She let him

lead her to the car in silence.

It was a far cry from the estate car she'd grown used to at Killane.

This was long, low, and sleek, and it spoke of the power that only a

lot of money can buy. This was the side of Flynn she'd never seen

before. The wealthy consultant whose success meant he could

command his own fees world-wide.

He helped her into the passenger seat, showed her how the seat-belt

fastened, then walked round to take his place beside her. The engine

purred into life.

She said, 'But this isn't the way home. You should have turned

right.'

'I have a home here too, Alexandra. A temporary one at the Crown

Hotel. We're going there first.'

'No!' The monosyllable sounded almost violent.

'To talk,' he said wearily. 'In comfort and privacy, rather than in the

street.'

'But we have nothing to talk about.'

'Say that once more,' Flynn said levelly, 'and as God is my witness,

I'll stop this car and box your ears.'

Sandie relapsed into a fraught and fuming silence.

The Crown was the largest hotel in the area, and it had recently been

extensively renovated and refurbished. Flynn, it appeared, had

rented one of the suites on the top floor, and as he asked for his key,

Sandie debated the idea of making a scene in front of the reception

desk, and as quickly discarded it. She hadn't the slightest doubt that

Flynn's retribution would be swift and unpleasant if she did any such

thing.

They stood in the metal cage of the lift like strangers, not even

glancing at each other. When it stopped, Flynn took her arm again,

and led her along the thickly carpeted corridor to a door at the end.

He opened it, and stood back so that she could precede him into the

room beyond.

Sandie found herself in a small lamplit sitting-room, with various

doors leading off it. As she looked around, assimilating her

surroundings, one of the doors opened.

'I thought you were never coming,' said Francesca.

She came into the sitting-room, smiling and holding out her hand.

'So, Alexandra, we meet at last. I'm so glad!'

Stiffly, Sandie held out her own hand and allowed it to be encircled

by Francesca's warm fingers. She couldn't believe what was

happening to her—the sheer cruelty of it.

'God, you're freezing!' the other girl exclaimed. 'Flynn, be an angel

and rustle up some coffee for us before the poor kid turns to stone.'

Sandie tried to say she didn't want any coffee, but the muscles in her

throat didn't seem to be working properly, and anyway Flynn was

already leaving on his errand. Leaving them alone together.

'You look banjaxed,' said Francesca. 'Sit down, and I'll switch on

this fire.'

'I can't stay...' Sandie managed.

'Yes, you can.' Francesca's voice was kind but firm. 'You can't run

away again. And he'd only go after you if you did.'

She deposited Sandie on one of the sofas flanking the fireplace, and

sat opposite her.

'Flynn's right entirely about how alike we are,' she observed after a

pause. 'It's absurd—uncanny even.' She shook her head. 'God, if I

didn't love that man so much, I'd hate him!'

'Yes,' was all Sandie could say in a small, wooden voice.

'You're probably wondering why I'm here,' Francesca went on,

giving her another swift look.

'It's none of my business.'

Francesca snorted. .'Now that's ridiculous. If I found my man

sharing a hotel suite with a woman, I'd soon make it my business.'

'Flynn isn't—my man.'

There was a silence. Then, 'I see,' said Francesca. 'And is that your

final word on the subject?'

Sandie's hands clenched together in her lap. 'What are you trying to

do to me?' she asked huskily.

'I'm sticking my nose into what doesn't concern me. I'm trying to

find out if my oldest and dearest friend has a chance of happiness at

last, before I go off and try and put my own life back together.'

Sandie stared at her, trying to make sense of what , she'd said.

She said slowly, 'Go off? but where?'

'To find Crispin. He's in London just now, but he's off to Vienna in a

couple of days to see his old maestro. It could mean that my dearest

wish is going to come true, and he's going to return to the concert

platform, and I want him to know he has all my love and support—

if he needs it.' Francesca's eyes glittered suddenly, and she bit her lip

hard. 'He may not, of course, but that's a risk I'll have to take.'

Sandie could hardly breathe. 'Crispin,' she said. 'You're still in love

with Crispin? But I thought you were getting a divorce.'

'Never in this world,' Francesca said crisply. 'What I want is a

marriage—a real one with a home, and children. A settled base for

Cris to return to between engagements. That's what I always wanted,

only he didn't. That's what I went to Killane to offer him, on

condition he started playing in public again. God, he was furious! I

thought I'd blown the whole thing completely, but if he's going to

see Gunther Straubman, there's hope again.'

She gave Sandie a straight look. 'You know, I suppose, that Cris had

some kind of psychological crisis about his playing. It started

around the time we were getting married, only I was too besotted to

realise there was anything wrong. And Magda encouraged it, of

course. God, that woman's been a disaster to her children, although

Flynn and Jess seem to have weathered her best.' She shook her

head.

'Before I knew what was happening Cris was having panic attacks,

swearing he could never appear on a platform again. I was worried

sick about him, so when he suggested building up a musical career

for me, I went along with it for a while. I thought once he realised

how useless I was, it would make him want to play again. But it all

went wrong, and eventually the only thing I could do to save us both

from disaster was leave.'

She gave a wry smile. 'Flynn was like a rock to me, but then he

always is. I use him shamelessly too. I even dragged him away from

Killane when he needed to be with you. But that's the last time, I

swear it.'

'But you were in love with him once—weren't you?'

'Back at the dawn of time,' Francesca said calmly. 'Oh, everyone

thought we'd make a match of it, and maybe ..we did too for a while,

but luckily we realised in time we were more like brother and sister

than Romeo and Juliet.'

'But Crispin said...'

'Crispin says any number of daft things, when he's trying to justify

himself.' Francesca shrugged. 'After all, it's easier for him to blame

me than face up to the flaws in himself. Finding you, pretending that

he could start you on the road to stardom as he'd failed to do with

me, must have seemed like another reprieve from reality. As I said

just now, if I didn't love him, I'd hate him.'

She meant Crispin, Sandie thought. Not Flynn. Aloud, she said, 'So

you can forgive him for what he's done.'

'I don't pretend he's perfect, or that we won't have problems, but he's

my man, and I'll go on loving him, and fighting for him, for as long

as it takes.'

Francesca glanced at her watch. 'And now my taxi should be here to

take me to the station. I'm catching the last train to London. I figure

that if I turn up on Cris'-s doorstep like a waif and stray, the least he

can do is take me in.'

Sandie stirred restively. 'Could I share the taxi for part of the way? I

live not far from the station.'

'You could,' Francesca said levelly, 'but I recommend you stay here

and listen to what Flynn has to say. Because no matter how many

times you run away, he's going to come after you.'

'But there's really nothing else to be said,' Sandie began desperately,

and paused as the suite door opened and Flynn came in

accompanied by a member of the hotel staff carrying a tray of

coffee.

In the flurry of activity which surrounded the coffee's arrival and

Francesca's departure, it would have been easy for Sandie to slip

away, but somehow, ten minutes later, she found herself in the suite

alone with Flynn, sitting awkwardly on the edge of a sofa, drinking

the coffee he'd passed to her.

Silence surrounded them, and Flynn seemed in no hurry to break it,

Sandie thought, stealing a look at him under her lashes.

'Do you think Francesca and Crispin will make a go of it?' she

ventured at last, putting down her cup.

'God knows.' His voice was curt. 'She's worth ten of him, I'll tell you

that.'

'Perhaps she should have married you after all.'

'Heaven forbid!' He smiled faintly. 'Did she tell you about the one

and only time we went to bed together?'

'No.' Pain pierced her.

'Well, it was a disaster. We knew each other so well that we were

embarrassed to death. I couldn't even touch her, nor she me. We

spent, half the night apologising, and the rest in gales of laughter.'

He lifted his head and sent her a long direct look. 'I had no such

scruples about you, Alexandra. So if the idea's been put in your head

that I was simply using you as a substitute for Francesca, you can

dismiss it now.'

Sandie flushed. 'But you did have scruples,' she protested in a low

voice. 'You—you said there was no future for us.'

'No,' said Flynn. 'You said that, when you told me music was your

life.' He looked at her bleakly, his face stark and very pale beneath

his tan. 'I've spent my entire existence surrounded by people who

thought like that, and let their personal relationships go hang

because of their obsession. I've learned to stand it from my family,

but I couldn't endure it from my wife.'

He came and knelt beside her, taking her hands in his. She realised

that he was trembling slightly.

He said, 'I knew that if I took you, I'd never be able to let you go.

And yet the only life I could offer you wasn't the one you wanted.'

He gave a small bitter laugh. 'God, I wasn't even sure I was the man

you wanted, or if you were just experimenting because I was

available. So it seemed better—not to take. I thought—maybe—if I

never had you, I'd hurt less when you walked away.'

'But it was you who walked away.' The pressure of his fingers on

hers was making her feel breathless, dizzy.

'But I was coming back. I thought—to hell with being noble and

letting her having her chance of a career. After what we'd shared

that night, losing you was impossible—like suffering some obscene

amputation. I couldn't take that. So I decided to hang in there—try

somehow to persuade you that marrying me would be the greatest

thing for us both. That the music we made together—the kind of

harmony we found when we were making love is the only kind that

matters.'

He tried to smile. 'And if it turned out to be really Crispin you

wanted all along—well, I'd be there to pick up the pieces.'

'You thought that?' Sandie said huskily. 'But it was never Crispin—

not seriously. I think I had a crush on him, that's all. I—I didn't

know much about men, or relationships. I'd been too wrapped up in

my music to bother very much.'

'I know.' Flynn lifted her hands to his lips, kissing the soft palms

very gently. 'Your innocence was the most perfect gift I'd ever

received.'

'Truly?' Her heart was hammering. 'But Flynn, you could have

anyone you wanted.'

'If that's the case,' Flynn said quietly, 'why am I kneeling here,