Tycoon's Choice: Kept by the Tycoon / Taken by the Tycoon / The Tycoon's Proposal. Kathryn Ross
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was no. She was afraid of heights and didn’t much care for flying in any form. But it would be a chance to leave the house. A chance, once they were at the Denaught, to escape. If she excused herself to go to the powder room, hopefully she could get a taxi and be away before he missed her.
Trying to keep the excitement out of her voice, she readjusted the duvet and said, ‘Yes, that would be very nice.’
‘Of course, I’ll want your word that you won’t try to run. That you’ll stick with the role of the physiotherapist Harriet hired.’
Try as she might she was unable to meet his eyes and, with a hark back to childhood, the hand hidden beneath the duvet had the first and middle fingers crossed as, after the briefest hesitation, she agreed, ‘Very well.’
‘Good. Then while you shower and dress I’ll have a word with Jack and get everything organised.’
The second the door had closed behind him, she jumped out of bed, pulled on her clothes and hurried along the corridor to her flat.
As soon as she had dried herself and dressed she put on her make-up and coiled her hair, leaving the same small gold hoops in her ears that she’d worn the previous night.
She couldn’t wait to get away. It would mean leaving her cases, but once she was safely in London she could arrange to have them picked up. In the meantime, Eve would lend her whatever she needed.
Dressed in a cream blouse and a fine wool suit the colour of molasses, she pulled on a pair of matching suede boots and crept downstairs.
As soon as she’d found Mrs Boyce and retrieved her handbag, she would go back to the flat and phone Eve.
There was no sign of the housekeeper, and, having peered into several rooms, including the kitchen, she was returning to the hall when Rafe appeared wearing a hip-length leather jacket.
‘Lost?’ he queried.
‘I was looking for Mrs Boyce.’ Instinctively she spoke the truth.
‘Mary’s off until after Christmas. Annie will be filling in for her, when she gets here.’
‘Oh…’ Madeleine said. But, thinking back, she could vaguely remember Mrs Boyce mentioning it.
‘Were you wanting the housekeeper for any particular reason?’ he asked.
Doing her best to sound casual, she explained, ‘Last night I couldn’t find my handbag. I thought I must have left it in the living room, but when I went to look it wasn’t there. I presume Mrs Boyce must have found it and put it somewhere safe.’
‘Well, if that’s all it is, there’s no problem.’
‘But I need my purse and—’
He smiled lazily. ‘Don’t worry, I promise I’ll buy lunch. Now, about ready to start?’
There was money in her flight bag, and she would need money for a taxi. Her mind working overtime, she said, ‘Not quite…I’d better fetch a coat,’ and fled back upstairs.
It was a moment’s work to unpack her cream coat, and her flight bag was where she’d left it. Knowing how useful its contents would be, she hesitated, sorely tempted to take it.
But the last thing she wanted to do was alert Rafe. Giving up the idea, she unzipped it and felt for the money she’d slipped into the inner pocket alongside her passport and other papers.
The pocket was empty.
It must be the one on the other side.
That too was empty.
Feeling as though she’d been kicked in the solar plexus, she made a more thorough search.
Everything else was there, but her money, her passport and other travel documents were gone.
Suddenly it all added up.
There were money and papers missing, a phone that wasn’t working, no keys in the doors, a handbag that had mysteriously disappeared…
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