Sarah Morgan Summer Collection. Sarah Morgan
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Ethan found himself smiling, too. ‘And did you eat your dinner after that?’
‘No. I used to scrape it into my napkin and then hide the evidence.’
‘And they never found out?’
‘Sadly, they did.’ Kyla opened a door and walked ahead of him into a beautiful glass-fronted living room, her feet echoing on the pale wooden floor. ‘But only because I was stupid enough to slide it into Miss Carne’s handbag on one occasion. I think it was lasagne or something really sloppy. Vile. I’m surprised I wasn’t expelled. After that, they watched me eat.’
‘I don’t blame them.’ He glanced around him in surprise. ‘This is nice.’
‘You should have seen it two years ago. Complete wreck. It had been lived in by the same man for about ninety years. After he bought it, Nick spent every weekend doing it up. We all helped.’ She walked over to the window and stared out across the sea. ‘He was lucky to get it. There was a lot of competition because this is one of the best spots on the island.’
‘So why didn’t you try and buy it?’
‘I didn’t need to.’ She turned to look at him, amusement in her eyes. ‘I own the place next door. You might want to remember that before you run naked into the waves for your morning swim, Dr Walker. Or are you southerners too wimpy to take a plunge into the Atlantic?’
Was she challenging him? He held her gaze with his own. ‘I swim well.’
Her eyes slid to his shoulders, as if she were assessing the truth of his quiet statement and suddenly the tension in the air snapped as tight as a bow and Ethan felt something dangerous stir inside him.
‘So this place is mine for the duration of my stay?’ His voice was hoarse and he cursed himself. Could she feel it, too? Was she aware of the sudden change in the atmosphere?
‘It’s yours for as long as you want it. When you leave it will be winter and no one but the locals brave this island come November.’ She watched him for a moment and then walked over to the French doors, her movements as smooth and graceful as those of a dancer. But then she lifted a hand to touch a switch and he saw that her fingers were shaking. ‘Flick this to the right and the doors open. The garden leads down to the beach. Just make sure you close the doors if there’s a storm or you’ll be sweeping the sand from your living room for weeks.’
‘Storm?’ Ethan fixed his gaze on the perfect blue sky. He needed to stay away from her. Far, far away.
‘Jim, the ferryman, mentioned storms. It’s pretty calm today. Hard to imagine the place in a storm.’
‘You won’t have to imagine it because you’re going to see it soon enough.’ Kyla gave a soft laugh. ‘I hope you like your weather wild, Dr Walker, and I hope you’re not afraid of storms. Because anything you’ve seen up until now will be nothing compared to this island in the grip of a seething temper.’
‘I don’t scare easily.’ He turned, unable to be in the same room and not look at her. ‘How about you, Kyla MacNeil? Do you scare easily? Do you take risks?’ He was playing with fire. Testing her. He saw from the fierce glint in her blue eyes that she knew it.
‘Life is there to be lived to the full. I was born on this island and it’s part of who I am. Nothing about it frightens me. Not the storms. Not the isolation.’ And not you, her eyes said, and he felt a flicker of envy.
What would it be like, Ethan wondered bleakly, to be so sure of everything? To live somewhere that felt like home?
The letter was still in his pocket and suddenly he wanted to read it again. To try and understand.
‘I need to unpack and take a shower.’ His tone was harsher than he’d intended and he saw the faint frown of confusion in her eyes. For a brief moment he wanted to take her arm and apologise, and the impulse surprised him as much as it would have surprised all of the people who knew him because he wasn’t exactly known for gentleness.
You don’t have a heart, Ethan.
And then he backed off, remembering that he wasn’t in a position to explain anything.
He needed time.
There were things he needed to find out.
Kyla closed the front door behind her and jumped over the tiny hedge that separated the two cottages.
As she let herself into the cottage that she’d converted with the help of her brother and her friends, she considered the powerful chemistry between Ethan and herself. It was there. Pointless to deny it. And yet she sensed that the connection angered him.
He didn’t want to feel it.
Kyla frowned as she flicked on the kettle. And what about her? What did she want?
She’d become so used to leading her own life she hadn’t given any thought to the possibility that things might change.
He wasn’t going to stay, she told herself firmly as she made herself a mug of tea and took it out onto the deck that overlooked the beach. Whatever they shared would be short-term because she would never leave the island.
‘Nurse MacNeil! Kyla!’
She glanced up as she heard her name being called from the beach. Deciding that perhaps the prospect of leaving the island had possibilities after all, she gave a sigh and walked down to the end of her garden, still nursing the mug. At least in inner-city London she might get to drink her tea in peace. ‘Fraser Price. What are you doing on the beach in the middle of a school day?’
Probably bunking off, the way she had as a child.
‘Don’t tell Miss Carne,’ the boy begged, breathless as he struggled in bare feet through the soft sand. ‘She thinks I’m ill.’
‘And you’re not?’ Reminding herself that she was a grown-up now and supposed to set standards, Kyla looked suitably stern. ‘You should be at school. Education is important. Pretending to be ill isn’t a good idea, Fraser.’ She almost laughed as she listened to herself. How many times had she sneaked off to play on the beach?
‘It was the only thing I could think of. And I needed to stay at home.’
‘Why did you need to stay at home?’
‘To look after Mum.’ Suddenly he looked doubtful and unsure. ‘She wasn’t making sense this morning and I didn’t want to leave her. I had a bad feeling.’
‘What sort of bad feeling?’ Kyla was alert now. ‘Is it her diabetes? What do you mean, she wasn’t making sense? Is something the matter with your mum?’
‘I dunno. She just seemed … different.’ He gave a shake of his head and then shrugged. ‘She’d kill me if she knew I was here. I bunked off last week to take the boat out and she really did her nut. Don’t say I was here. Couldn’t you just call in on her? You know, like by accident?’
‘Fraser, I don’t call on anyone by accident.’ Amusement gave way to concern as Kyla saw the look on his face. ‘OK. OK.’ She lifted a hand. ‘Today I’ll find a reason to call on your mum by accident.’
‘Really?’ He breathed an audible sigh of relief. ‘That’s great. Can the accident be right now?’
Banishing hopes of lunch, Kyla nodded. ‘Just let me lock up here and get my car. I’ll meet you back at your house. You can let me in. And, Fraser, about your mum.’ She caught his arm. ‘Can you describe how she looked? How was she different?’
‘She was a funny colour. And her hands were shaking when she gave me breakfast. You won’t tell on me?’ He looked at her anxiously. ‘I said I felt sick and needed a walk in the fresh air.’
Kyla thought of all the sins she’d committed at school. Didn’t everyone need a little latitude? ‘I won’t tell.