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He flicked a switch on the dashboard, handed her a headset. She mimicked him as he put his own on, sliding it on her head and pulling down the mouthpiece even though she knew they were out of words. There was nothing left to say.
The helicopter blades spun furiously and pulled them up into the air. Away from the farm. Away from everything she’d ever known.
Flora realised that she wasn’t leaving as Flora Campbell, the abandoned daughter of an addict. But neither was she Flora Bick, a miracle baby adopted by farmers. She was leaving as a potential mother...and maybe someone’s soon-to-be wife.
Hiswife.
She’d have to learn a whole new script—a brand-new list of rules for a completely different life where she’d decide how she lived it. Who she wanted to be.
And if the time came to make a choice, who would she choose?
CHAPTER FIVE
THEHELICOPTERSWOOPEDbetween the coastal cliffs and out over the open sea straight towards a white and blue vessel. A boat—ayacht—of magnificent proportions.
Flora’s skin prickled. She turned her head, looking back towards the beach. Sheknewthat beach. Combed it regularly for shells, or driftwood, for signs of life outside the farm. But she’d dragged nothing back to the farm as large ashim.
She turned back to him...the man who was piloting the helicopter. Was ithishelicopter?
Her temples pounded with the realisation of that. Surely if they were having a baby together that was information she should know? But she didn’t. She’d been too swept up in the other revelations of the last hour. His return. The failed contraception. The potential pregnancy. A baby...
Suddenly a barrage of images slammed against her brain.The helicopter. The suit. The roof. The opulent rooms at the hotel!Her eyes snapped to the view in front of them, focusing on the yacht...a water palace. She’d been blinded by emotion, by passion. She hadn’t seen what was right in front of her.
He lowered the helicopter onto the tail-end of the yacht, onto a helipad. Flora held her breath during the descent. He was a man of means, wasn’t he? A man who’d been able to find her when she’d barely been able to find out any information about herself for herself. He’d hired a team of private investigators...
‘The hotel...’
She hesitated as he flicked some switches. Turned off a blinking light and removed his headset. The whir of the helicopter propellers slowed to a gentle buzz.
Did she truly want to know more about the man who could be the father of her child? Did she want to make this real before they confirmed the consequences? Did she need to?
Before Flora could swallow he was getting out, walking around the front of the helicopter to appear on her side. He pulled open her door and stood there expectantly. The sea stretched out behind him, calm, and a new world of opulence surrounded the helicopter. Gleaming glass and polished silver rails were stacked in rows, on top of one another, which she could only assume signified more decks, more rooms...
‘I’m not getting out.’
He cocked a brow. ‘You’re not?’
She shook her head so violently that she dislodged her headset. She caught it. ‘No, I’m not.’
How could she when she didn’t know what kind of world she was stepping into. She’d hadn’t considered it before. She’d been too focused on finding out if she was pregnant, never stopping to question where he’d be taking her. Where his home was.
He took the headset from her hands, his fingers brushing the tips of hers.
No. She wouldn’t look at his hands. She wouldn’t recognise the jolt in her stomach for what it was. Because desire was intoxicating.Consuming.She needed facts—not emotion. She must not let herself be swayed by these addictive feelings.
She needed not to recognise the sensations in her stomach, and lower, that the single caress of his hand against hers had caused. Because it was ludicrous how badly she wanted him when she still didn’t know who he was. This stranger—this man—the potential father of her potential baby...
He threw the headset onto the dashboard. ‘Why not?’ Amusement laced his voice.
Flora inhaled deeply through her nostrils and squared her shoulders, steeling herself. She’d let her emotions overrule logic. With him, she’d ignored every lesson ingrained by her parents to call for rational thinking before impulse. Now she needed information. She needed to be able to think clearly.
‘Tell me who you are?’ she demanded tightly.
He narrowed his eyes. ‘Why is it important now?’
‘Because I don’t think your world is anything like mine. I think—I thoughtthe man on that rooftop was staying in the hotel, like me. He just had a better room with a better view. But youownthat view, don’t you?’
‘What do you mean?’
