Secret Surrender. Laura Martin
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edges of a loch.’
Scotland. Was that good? Christy wondered, desperately trying to find some crumb of comfort on which to hold. Well, at least they weren’t going to cross the Channel; there would be firm ground below them for all of the way.
She found herself gazing into his face, surveying the stunning, dark features, picturing the contemptuous curve of the lips that would surely appear if she told him how frightened she was at the prospect of flying.
You’re going to do it. The voice was small and unsure, but it was there deep inside forcing her on. You must. There is no way you are going to allow this ridiculous phobia to get the better of you. You are going to be strong and composed and you are not going to allow Drew Michaels to have any suspicions at all.
Her legs felt like jelly as she got out of the car and waited while he locked it up. Crossing the tarmac was like living a nightmare, watching as the plane became larger and larger, but still, as far as Christy was concerned, not large enough.
She was so preoccupied with keeping her fear at a controllable level and her composure intact that it wasn’t until Drew was actually strapping himself in beside her that she realised that it was he that was going to pilot the plane.
‘You fly?’ Her voice didn’t sound quite normal, but he seemed not to notice.
‘Yes, that’s right.’
Christy watched nervously as he placed dark glasses on his nose, a pair of headphones over his thick dark hair, and began to check the dials in front of him.
‘How long?’
‘Oh, I got my licence just last week; I’m looking forward to having a practice.’
Christy felt the colour drain from her face. This couldn’t really be happening, could it? Practice? She stared ahead out of the window and thought about backing out, telling him she just couldn’t go through with the flight. So what if she looked a complete fool? It had happened before, hadn’t it? She had survived.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Drew glance across. ‘Are you feeling OK?’ His dark brows were drawn together slightly and Christy saw a vague expression of concern shadowing his face. ‘Look, I was only kidding before,’ he added carelessly, handing her some headphones. ‘I’ve actually been flying for ten years now. I have more flying hours under my belt than I care to remember so you’ve no need to worry.’
‘Who said I was worried?’ Christy arched surprised eyebrows and tried to play the part of someone totally in control. ‘I’m just not particularly enamored about flying all the way to Scotland, that’s all!’
‘Why not? It’s a very beautiful country.’
He flicked numerous switches, checked dials and then before she knew what was happening the engine roared into life. Christy swallowed back the lump in her throat and hastily fastened her seatbelt.
Too late, she thought, surreptitiously gripping the seat as the aircraft taxied along the runway. You can’t tell him now, you stupid girl!
She felt the prickle of fear, the sudden sickness in the pit of her stomach as the plane got up speed and closed her eyes tightly as the aircraft lurched into the cloudless blue sky. When she finally found the courage to open them again, she realised he was watching her.
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