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?’