Page 5 of The Wedding Proposal

Lucas was in the same place but now there were two bottles of beer before him. He gestured to one of them in invitation. She stopped, suddenly parched. With her spare hand she swooped the bottle up, gulping half of it down in one go, enjoying the chill in her throat.

Lucas’s glossy black hair slid over his eyes and he raked it back. ‘What are you going to do with that suitcase?’

‘Put it in the lazarette.’

‘My, you have been doing your homework.’

‘I always was a good student.’ She ignored the unsettling sensation of his eyes following her movements as she put down the beer and went through to open a hatch in the cockpit floor. The engine was down there but it was the big stowage space beside it, the lazarette, that was her target.

‘Do you want a hand?’ He didn’t move.

‘Nope.’ She managed to wrangle the suitcase into the depths without toppling in after it; then fetched the other and struggled that down, too. Out in the sun she began to appreciate the air conditioning of the boat’s interior. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and retreated to her cabin.

The narrow wardrobe held nine hangers. Working rapidly, she hung up her summer dresses and folded shorts, skirts and tops onto the shelves. Underwear remained in the smaller case, which she stowed inside the larger and, ducking, because the ceiling of the cabin sloped, the helm seat being above it, squeezed onto the floor at the far end of the space between the beds. It could be her sea chest.

She put her sponge bag in the bathroom. There was a complicated arrangement of doors and locks so that the bathroom could be shut off from the cabin or not. She chose not.

Resolutely, she refused to remember the pictures Simon had sent her of the master cabin, the double bed built into the bow under skylights. The guest cabin of this gorgeous boat would do absolutely fine.

In the saloon, Lucas still lounged, but now the beer bottle he contemplated was empty. ‘Did Simon give you a key?’

‘Yes. He sent it. You?’ An unnecessary question as he’d been living on board for a week.

‘He leaves one with Dad.’ He lifted his gaze. ‘Can you skipper the boat?’

She grimaced. ‘No. I suppose you can?’

‘In theory.’

‘Are you going to move it while I’m ashore?’

Sudden amusement lit his dark eyes. ‘Don’t give me ideas. It would be fun to sail off around the island, just to imagine your face when you found an empty berth where the Shady Lady had been.’

Elle felt anger roll in her chest. ‘But is it in keeping with your rigid personal code? It sounds like deceit.’

A scowl snapped the grin from his face. ‘The less you say about deceit, the better.’

She snatched up her backpack, which contained the purse full of euros she’d bought in such a bubble of happiness last week, and dug out the map and notes Simon had e-mailed. ‘The moral high ground is a pretty tenuous place to hang out, Lucas. It takes a lot of clinging on to. But I suppose you have just the right rigid, uncompromising, blinkered personality to carry it off.’

She flipped open the map, turning it around to orientate herself as she marched out through the doors and off the boat, pretending to herself that the rough wooden gangplank had handrails (and wishing that it did) so that she could stride across with confidence.

The sun beat at her through the already heated air but she disregarded it.

Passing the toilet building, tucked between the end of the gardens and the outdoor dining area, she strode between the kiosk and the filling station, where a few cars were parked and a boat was up on large blocks of stone as if awaiting maintenance. Approaching the rush of traffic on the busy main road, The Strand, she became aware what an effective barrier the gardens provided between it and the tranquillity of the marina. She crossed into the shade and turned right along an uneven, busy pavement that served businesses and shops.

According to Simon’s notes, she was heading for Sliema, which was full of shops, cafes and bars. Its present attraction was that it was empty of Lucas Rose.

* * *

Lucas went out into the cockpit to watch Elle leave, squinting against the sun.

His hands tightened into fists of frustration. He’d thought he was over the childlike habit of blabbing his first furious thoughts. Spinning on his heel, he headed back to the cool of the boat’s saloon. He shut the sliding door and snatched his phone from his pocket, selecting Simon from his contacts.

When the call was answered he could hardly gather enough breath to form words. ‘What the fuck, Simon?’

Simon sighed. ‘You don’t have to tell me. It was a wild idea, but Elle’s already made it clear that I’ve thrown you into a nightmare. I’m sorry. I thought you guys needed to talk. You never talked — you declared war and split up.’

Lucas clenched his eyes shut. ‘Sticking us both aboard the Shady Lady was brutal. I feel as if someone switched the engines on while I was wrapped around one of the propellers.’

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