“You have literallyneversaid that. In fact, last week you called me a moron.”
His mouth twitches. “Surely that can’t be true. Well, how remiss of me not to have told you that you are also very charming.”
“That’s you. Remiss.”
We leave the village behind. After a few minutes, Robert turns onto a quiet, narrow lane lined by the river on one side and trees and high walls of shrubbery on the other. He comes to a stop by a towpath that leads to the water.
“Here you are, sir,” Robert says.
“Thank you,” Mac says. “I’ll text you when we need you, Robert.” He opens the door and steps onto the towpath. I scramble to follow him, noticing there’s a boat at the end of the path, with a man behind the wheel.
Robert pulls away, and it’s so quiet that all I can hear is birdsong and the lapping of the water. Mac puts a hand on my back and steers me towards the boat.
“Are we going on that?” I ask, digging in my heels.
“No, I thought we’d stand and look at it for a while. It’s a thrilling sort of day for me.”
“Sarcasm isneverattractive,” I say tartly.
He smiles. “You lie.”
I consider him. “Yeah. Probably.”
The man in the boat straightens as we come near. “Mr Reilly?”
Mac nods and greets him.
“I’m Sam, sir. Mr Corvin sent me to pick you up. Sorry for the roundabout way you’ve had to get here. Mr Corvin has a mooring, but it’s not currently accessible.” He moves to the side, extending a hand to help us in.
Mac nods pleasantly but climbs neatly into the boat without assistance. My entry is not so graceful. I stumble, nearly taking a header into the river. It takes the combined efforts of Sam and Mac to prevent me from having a river bath. I half fall ontothe bench when the boat begins to move. Mac grabs my arm, steering me safely down, his mouth twitching.
“Go ahead and laugh,” I say resignedly.
He snorts—an astonishingly young sound. He catches my fascinated gaze and quickly schools his expression into its usual chilly hauteur.
“When you’re ready, Sam,” he says, and the man starts the boat.
We chug down the river at a sedate pace, and I hang over the side looking at the houses we’re passing. They’re huge and look very old. “Wow. I wonder what it’s like to live in those,” I say.
Mac grabs the back of my jumper. “Careful, or you’ll go over.”
“I’m sure you’ll save me,” I say, fluttering my eyelashes at him to get a smile.
He rolls his eyes. “Maybe a few thousand gallons of river water would stop your incessant talking.”
“Probably not.”
I sit back. Boats chug by, and the wind blows, sending spray into my face. “So, where are we going?”
He points. The view to my side had so absorbed me I didn’t look in front. I gasp in delight. The river forks ahead of us, a green mass of land dividing the water. “Is that anisland?”
“It used to belong to Admiral Nelson. He used it as a fishing retreat.”
“Fucking hell. Had he never heard of the canal?”
“It’s called Pharaoh’s Island.”
I look at him and then back at the island. “How odd. Why is it called that?”
