Tycoon's Choice: Kept by the Tycoon / Taken by the Tycoon / The Tycoon's Proposal

Realising that the whole thing had been carefully planned, she clenched her teeth.

‘Got a problem?’

Looking up, she found Rafe was standing in the doorway, watching her.

Her voice tight with barely controlled anger, she began with the least important. ‘The phone up here isn’t working…’

‘So Mary said,’ he agreed blandly.

‘There are no keys to the doors, and, before you try to fob me off with excuses, I know they’ve been purposely removed…’

Those lazy green eyes regarded her calmly. ‘Then presumably you know why?’

‘Oh, yes, I know why. To prevent me locking myself in, and to enable you to come in and out whenever it suits you—which you’ve no right to do…!’

‘It is my house,’ he pointed out when she paused to draw breath.

‘It might be your house, but that doesn’t give you the right to walk in and take my belongings…’ she said breathlessly.

When he simply stood there and watched her, her voice shaking, she accused, ‘You came in while I was asleep—’ recalling the dream that the slight noise he must have made had triggered off, she shuddered, before going on ‘—and you stole my handbag and the money and papers from my flight bag. Don’t bother to deny it.’

‘I wasn’t going to deny it,’ he said mildly. ‘Though stole is hardly the correct word. I’m merely keeping them safe until I’m satisfied you don’t intend to do anything silly.’

‘How dare you?’ she cried hoarsely. ‘You’ve no right to treat me like this—’

‘Perhaps we could leave the recriminations until later? The chopper’s warming up ready and Jack will be standing around waiting for us.’

Then, with a glance at her mutinous face, ‘Unless you’ve changed your mind about going? If you have, we could always stay at home.’

She had opened her mouth to say that she had no intention of going anywhere with him, when she hesitated. There would be no chance of escaping if they stayed here. Better to put on a reasonably amicable front and go with him. Then at the first opportunity she would slip away. Either Eve or Noel would pay her taxi fare…

‘Well?’

‘I haven’t changed my mind.’

Picking up her coat, he helped her into it. ‘Then let’s go.’

Outside it was a perfect winter’s day, with a cloudless sky as blue as lapis lazuli. Though the sun shone brightly, the air was glacial, and frost sparkled like glitter on a Christmas card.

Snow covered everything in a thick white counterpane, filling in hollows, redefining the landscape, piling on sills and ledges, burying shrubs and plants, clothing bare branches and weighing down the green arms of the pine.

The apron outside the front door had been partially cleared and, harnessed to what appeared to be a child’s sleigh, a small, sturdy pony waited placidly.

‘Courtesy of the previous owner, who was going to live in Australia,’ Rafe explained as he helped Madeleine into the sleigh and fitted himself in beside her.

Pressed as they were, hip to hip and thigh to thigh, there was just enough room for the two of them.

‘It belonged to his children…Cosy, wouldn’t you say?’

Robbed of breath by such close contact, Madeleine said nothing.

‘We do have a snowmobile,’ he went on, ‘but there’s something wrong with the engine and Jack is having to work on it.’

Finding her voice, she asked, ‘How far is it to the helicopter pad?’

‘Only a few hundred yards. But considering the conditions, I thought this mode of transport might be preferable to walking, and Jack says Hercules can do with some exercise.’

He made a clicking noise with his tongue, and apparently eager to live up to his name, Hercules set off with a will.

Though the sleigh ran easily enough, the pony’s short legs sank into the snow alarmingly until they got under the lee of a wall bordering the path to the flat, raised ground where the helicopter pad and hangar were situated.

Looking for all the world like a plastic bubble, the helicopter was waiting, its door open, its rotor blades turning gently.

Jack came to meet them and take charge of the sleigh while Rafe, a hand at her waist, escorted her across to the small silver machine.

After a momentary hesitation, she ducked her head and climbed in.

Rafe closed the door and, a moment later, swung in beside her. Then, having fastened both their seat belts, he put on the headset and turned his attention to the controls.

The engine note rose to a whine and a second or so later, the downdraught from the rotor blades whipping up the surrounding powdery snow, they lifted off into the blue, blue sky.

As they levelled out Rafe glanced sideways at her, noting her absolute stillness, the slim hands clasped into fists, the way her eyes were fixed blindly on the control panel.

‘OK?’ he asked above the engine noise.

She nodded without moving her gaze.

Reaching out, he took the nearest hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

She gave him a small, wavering smile.

‘That’s my girl.’

After a minute or so she took a deep breath and forced herself to look down. She was rewarded by a truly fantastic view. A winter wonderland of glistening snow, a montage of fields and hedgerows and silver filigree trees.

Fascinated, she began to pick out small dwellings and isolated farms, streams and roads, and clearly, on the smooth white snow, the tracks of animals.

Then in no time at all, it seemed, the countryside gave way to town and they were coming in to land on the Denaught’s clearly marked helicopter pad.

With its high grey stone walls, its towers and turrets and battlements, the place looked more like a castle than a hotel, Madeleine thought.

On the same wavelength, as he so often was, Rafe raised his voice to tell her, ‘Long before it became one of London’s top hotels, the Denaught was a fortified country house belonging to Sir Ian Bolton.

‘After the Bolton family died out, the place stood empty for a time until some property developer realised its potential.’

When they touched down and the rotor blades slowed, he removed his headset and, unfastening their seat belts, queried, ‘So how do you feel about your first helicopter flight?’

She surprised herself by saying, ‘I enjoyed it. I hadn’t expected to, as I’m terrified of heights.’