Read Online Island of the Heart by Sara Craven - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sara Craven
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with nervous
excitement. Crispin Sinclair wanted her—wanted to make love, to
her. Crispin, the rich, the famous, the supremely talented, actually
needed her—Sandie Beaumont. Little Miss Nobody. She gripped
the smoothly polished wood of the banister rail to convince herself
that she wasn't dreaming, and paused for a moment to steady her
breathing.
He had said they had both known from the first, but was that really
true? She couldn't be sure. Yes, she'd been attracted to him, and
flattered by his interest in her, she'd even thought in terms of falling
in love, but had she ever anticipated a full-blown sexual affair with
him?
I don't think it ever crossed my mind, she thought.
But there was so much else to take into consideration, she warned
herself tremulously. For instance, she wondered if Crispin had
paused to contemplate his mother's possible reaction to this
fundamental change in their master-pupil relationship. Because she
could not, in honesty, imagine Magda being particularly delighted
with the news.
She still hasn't really accepted me as her accompanist yet, Sandie
told herself, biting her lip. I still have a hell of a lot to prove. And I
did come here to work.
As she reached the shadows at the top of the stairs, the landing light
suddenly came on, and she recoiled with a faint gasp, blinking her
eyes against the unexpected illumination.
'Well, he wastes no time, I'll give him that,' said Flynn. 'But before
you become too flattered by his impatience, I should warn you it can
work both ways. If you intend to test your power by stringing him
along, you may well find yourself supplanted by a more willing
lady, and to hell with the artistic rapport.'
He must have been standing there in the shadows- watching them,
listening to every word, Sandie realised with blank horror.
She said chokingly, 'How dare you! Eavesdropping's a filthy trick!'
'But instructive, nevertheless. I'd never have thought of getting a girl
into bed by telling her it would improve her piano playing.'
His tone was light, but its barely concealed note of contempt seared
across her nerve endings.
'You're vile,' Sandie said tautly. 'And you couldn't possibly
understand. ..'
'Of course not. A peasant from the bogs like myself shouldn't aspire
to comprehend the tumultuous passions of genuine artists—even
when they're just a thin disguise for old-fashioned lust.'
She bit her lip. 'I—I don't have to talk to you. It's none of your
business anyway.'
'Oh, everything that happens at Killane is my business, as I've
already told you,' he said softly. 'Even trying to talk some sense into
a star-struck little idiot with her brains in her knickers.'
As her hand, instinctively, swept up, Flynn's fingers closed like a
vice round her wrist.
'You don't play the same trick twice, darling.' His voice hardened.
'Not unless you want to invite the kind of retribution you'd least care
for.'
'Let go of me at once!' She tried unavailingly to pull free.
'When I'm good and ready, and when you've listened to what I have
to say.'
'Then say it and go to hell!' she flared.
'All right.' He paused briefly. 'If I thought there was a chance that
Crispin would make you happy, then I'd stand back and let nature
take its course. But he can't and he won't, and if you think you have
a future with him, then you're fooling yourself because there's one
woman in his life, and one only.' He released his grip on her so
abruptly that she almost stumbled.
'Is that it?' Sandie rubbed her tingling flesh, glaring at him.
'It's enough to be going on with. If you want it more plainly, I'm
telling you that Crispin's a married man.'
She said unevenly, 'I already know that. And I know all about
Francesca too. Crispin has been perfectly frank with me—and I'm
prepared to wait while it all gets sorted out.'
'Are you, now?' Flynn said derisively. 'Well, I doubt that he is.' He
reached out and wound a strand of blonde hair round his-
excitement. Crispin Sinclair wanted her—wanted to make love, to
her. Crispin, the rich, the famous, the supremely talented, actually
needed her—Sandie Beaumont. Little Miss Nobody. She gripped
the smoothly polished wood of the banister rail to convince herself
that she wasn't dreaming, and paused for a moment to steady her
breathing.
He had said they had both known from the first, but was that really
true? She couldn't be sure. Yes, she'd been attracted to him, and
flattered by his interest in her, she'd even thought in terms of falling
in love, but had she ever anticipated a full-blown sexual affair with
him?
I don't think it ever crossed my mind, she thought.
But there was so much else to take into consideration, she warned
herself tremulously. For instance, she wondered if Crispin had
paused to contemplate his mother's possible reaction to this
fundamental change in their master-pupil relationship. Because she
could not, in honesty, imagine Magda being particularly delighted
with the news.
She still hasn't really accepted me as her accompanist yet, Sandie
told herself, biting her lip. I still have a hell of a lot to prove. And I
did come here to work.
As she reached the shadows at the top of the stairs, the landing light
suddenly came on, and she recoiled with a faint gasp, blinking her
eyes against the unexpected illumination.
'Well, he wastes no time, I'll give him that,' said Flynn. 'But before
you become too flattered by his impatience, I should warn you it can
work both ways. If you intend to test your power by stringing him
along, you may well find yourself supplanted by a more willing
lady, and to hell with the artistic rapport.'
He must have been standing there in the shadows- watching them,
listening to every word, Sandie realised with blank horror.
She said chokingly, 'How dare you! Eavesdropping's a filthy trick!'
'But instructive, nevertheless. I'd never have thought of getting a girl
into bed by telling her it would improve her piano playing.'
His tone was light, but its barely concealed note of contempt seared
across her nerve endings.
'You're vile,' Sandie said tautly. 'And you couldn't possibly
understand. ..'
'Of course not. A peasant from the bogs like myself shouldn't aspire
to comprehend the tumultuous passions of genuine artists—even
when they're just a thin disguise for old-fashioned lust.'
She bit her lip. 'I—I don't have to talk to you. It's none of your
business anyway.'
'Oh, everything that happens at Killane is my business, as I've
already told you,' he said softly. 'Even trying to talk some sense into
a star-struck little idiot with her brains in her knickers.'
As her hand, instinctively, swept up, Flynn's fingers closed like a
vice round her wrist.
'You don't play the same trick twice, darling.' His voice hardened.
'Not unless you want to invite the kind of retribution you'd least care
for.'
'Let go of me at once!' She tried unavailingly to pull free.
'When I'm good and ready, and when you've listened to what I have
to say.'
'Then say it and go to hell!' she flared.
'All right.' He paused briefly. 'If I thought there was a chance that
Crispin would make you happy, then I'd stand back and let nature
take its course. But he can't and he won't, and if you think you have
a future with him, then you're fooling yourself because there's one
woman in his life, and one only.' He released his grip on her so
abruptly that she almost stumbled.
'Is that it?' Sandie rubbed her tingling flesh, glaring at him.
'It's enough to be going on with. If you want it more plainly, I'm
telling you that Crispin's a married man.'
She said unevenly, 'I already know that. And I know all about
Francesca too. Crispin has been perfectly frank with me—and I'm
prepared to wait while it all gets sorted out.'
'Are you, now?' Flynn said derisively. 'Well, I doubt that he is.' He
reached out and wound a strand of blonde hair round his-
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