Summer Kisses: The Rebel Doctor's Bride

As they reached the sand, she slipped off her shoes and stooped to pick them up. ‘It’s pretty here. Really sheltered.’

‘Haven’t you been here before?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘Honestly?’ She hesitated. ‘This beach is part of your property and we were too afraid of your father. Even Kyla.’

Conner gave a bitter laugh. ‘Lovely man, my father.’ He sat down on the sand and then glanced at her with a frown. ‘Did you bring something to sit on?’

She smiled and sat down on the sand next to him. ‘This is perfect.’ She reached into the basket and then glanced at him, her eyes twinkling. ‘Napkin?’

‘Of course,’ he said sarcastically. ‘I’d hate to drop anything on my tuxedo.’

She laughed and passed him the bowl of chicken instead. ‘Try this. I guarantee it will taste better than anything you’ve ever eaten before, tuxedo or no tuxedo. I bumped into Diane Gregg in the supermarket this morning. She said Harry is feeling much better.’

‘Yes. I saw him in surgery yesterday. One of the advantages of being treated like a leper is that I have plenty of time for the patients that do want to see me.’ He bit into the chicken and flavours exploded on his palate. ‘You’re right—this is good.’

‘I have a boat, if you want to sail.’

Conner lifted an eyebrow. ‘Are you making a pass at me?’

The colour poured into her cheeks. ‘Of course not.’

‘But you’re offering to lend me your boat?’

‘Yes.’ She delved into the basket and pulled out some crusty bread. ‘Or we could sail together. You can sail it singlehanded but it’s more fun with two.’

‘I didn’t know you sailed.’

‘I suspect there’s quite a lot about me that you don’t know,’ she said calmly, and Conner gave a surprised laugh.

‘And what do you think the locals will say when they see you consorting with Bad Conner?’

Flora broke the bread in two and handed him half. ‘I suppose it might be sensible to avoid getting into trouble, just in case the lifeboat crew refuse to help.’

‘You’d be all right. They’d pick you up and leave me in the water.’

‘No problems, then. Lemonade?’

Conner winced. ‘Are you serious? What is this—nursery food?’

‘It’s home-made. Evanna makes it.’ She poured him a glass and he heard a dull clunk as ice cubes thudded into the glass. ‘It’s very refreshing.’

He took the glass and stared at it dubiously. ‘If you say so.’

‘You’d probably prefer beer.’

‘I don’t drink.’ He felt her eyes on his face and when she spoke her voice was soft.

‘Because of your father.’ Her quiet statement required no response and so he didn’t give one.

They ate in silence and he found himself glancing at her occasionally and noticing things about the way she looked. Like the fact that she had tiny freckles on her nose and that her eyes were incredibly pretty.

‘You should ditch the glasses,’ he said softly, and she blinked awkwardly.

‘Oh …’ She concentrated on the chicken and suddenly he was reminded of a baby kitten he’d found abandoned when he’d been a child. It had been so soft and vulnerable that he he’d been afraid to touch it in case he harmed it. So he’d placed an anonymous call to the vet’s surgery and had then hidden behind a tree, watching until they’d picked it up.

Flora had that same air of vulnerability.

They finished the picnic in silence and she packed everything away tidily in the basket. ‘There’s a good wind. I always find there’s nothing better than sailing to clear the mind and put everything into perspective.’

‘Flora—’

‘Don’t pretend you don’t want to sail, because I know you tried to hire a boat from Finn at the sailing school. I’m offering you my boat. With or without myself as crew.’

He stared out to sea. ‘I was going to clear the house out this afternoon.’

‘There’s no worse job in the world,’ she said softly. ‘After Dad died, it took me six months to even go into the house. I just couldn’t face all those memories. And mine were happy ones. Are you sure you don’t want to talk about this?’

‘I wouldn’t know what to say. I’ve been away for twelve years. But it seems even that isn’t long enough.’ Conner took a mouthful of his drink and choked. ‘That is truly disgusting.’

Flora laughed. ‘Some 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.