once to use one of her dad’s. But from the beginning, everything she’d used had come in on the tide. Even the red bikini bottoms that had brought Lachlan, furious, to her door had fortuitously washed up on the beach. It was a rule she’d made when she’d begun. To use anything that hadn’t washed up would be cheating.
“What sort of fishing net?” she asked cautiously, determinedly tempering her enthusiasm.
If he thought that was a stupid question from a fisherman’s daughter, he didn’t say so. “Pretty big from the looks of it,” he told her. “It’s mostly buried in the sand. Looks pretty old. Maybe you wouldn’t be interested.” He started to turn away again.
“And you just…just left it there?”
He looked back. “Of course I left it there. Why would I want an old fishing net? I just thought you might. If you don’t…”
“I do,” she said quickly before she could stop herself. Then she swallowed and tried to look casual. “I might,” she corrected. “I’ll check it out.”
Lachlan nodded. “I’ll take you. Pick you up tomorrow morning about ten.” And before she could object, he sauntered off whistling, leaving Fiona to stare after him.
IN THE MORNING the weather was gorgeous, hot but not sticky, a few puffy clouds, and the wind was light.
“A perfect day for a sail,” Carin said when Fiona appeared at the shop to drop off some sand castles the next morning. “You’ll have a grand time.”
She knew Fiona was going with Lachlan this morning. She knew why. There would be no more “island telegrams” confusing things where she and Lachlan were concerned.
“I’m not going for a good time. I’m going for the net,” Fiona said firmly.
Carin began unpacking the sand castles. “Well, my best guess is you’ll have a good time and you’ll get a net. Go on. Have fun. Enjoy. It’s a gorgeous day. Smile.”
Fiona smiled. Faintly. She felt vaguely worried. Apprehensive. If Lachlan made one wrong move…
But when Lachlan came to get her, she couldn’t fault him. He was prompt, cheerful, courteous. A regular Boy Scout, Fiona thought, and tried to scowl as she accompanied him down the quay to the dock.
But it was difficult because it was, as Carin had said, a fantastic day.
Having grown up around fishing boats, Fiona was used to being on the water. But she’d always been ballast while her brothers ran things. Boats were “guy stuff” and her involvement was not welcome.
She had never sailed in a sailboat in her life.
So she stayed out of the way while Lachlan warmed up the throaty diesel engine, untied and coiled the lines, then backed the boat out of the slip. Then, turning the boat into the wind, he adjusted the throttle so they were moving slowly, and motioned her over, then put her at the helm. “Keep it heading dead into the wind while I hoist the main.”
Fiona looked at him in momentary wide-eyed panic. She’d never been allowed to take the wheel when her brothers were around. But Lachlan seemed to think it was no big deal. He didn’t even pay any attention to what she was doing, instead moving forward to raise the mainsail.
Basking in his confidence, Fiona eased her death grip on the wheel slightly and took a deep breath as the boat churned steadily ahead and Lachlan cranked up the mainsail. Then he cleated off the halyard and stowed the winch handle before coming her way again.
She started to move aside, but he shook his head. “Stay there,” he said, “and steer for the point while I unfurl the jib.”
Surprised, Fiona did as she was told. She turned the wheel so they were headed slightly off the wind, a smile lighting her face as Lachlan unfurled the jib. The sails caught the wind and the boat began to pick up speed.
Yes! she thought. Oh, yes!
Then Lachlan cut the engine. And the sudden silence, broken only by the slap and hiss of water against the hull, startled her so that she laughed delightedly.
Lachlan cocked his head. “What?”
“Nothing. Everything. This is…it’s marvelous.” She beamed. “Sailing is, I mean. I never knew.”
“Never knew? You’ve never sailed?” Now it was his turn to look amazed. “But your dad—Mike and Paul—”
“My dad fished. My brothers fish. Dunbars spend their lives in boats. But for them boats are business, not pleasure. And they never let me do anything,” she admitted. “Some fishermen think women on boats are bad luck.”
Lachlan looked as if she’d just uttered a sacrilege. But then he grinned