Capture. Flora Dain

the start of a New Year and for us a new era.

      At a drumroll from the orchestra, silence falls around us and he starts to speak. His voice flows around me like dark honey and echoes through the vast room. He sounds casual, urbane. He could have been an actor.

      ‘Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve an announcement to make. I’m sure you’ve all guessed it, but here goes. Ella and I are getting engaged. Happy New Year, everybody.’

      Balloons tumble down, cheers rise up and he captures my mouth. Our kiss is all too brief and all too hot. A heady foretaste of what’s to come.

      * * *

      ‘You look terrific in that.’ His low murmur thrills through me as we hurry out to the main exit where his car’s waiting to ferry us to his jet. His hand grips mine, his burning look turning my gown into liquid sex.

      ‘You too.’ I grin, weak with relief – and that kiss.

      But I’m still angry.

      Behind us, back in the ballroom, New Year’s now in full swing, but we’re cutting things short. We’ve got other plans.

      Since we got here tonight our attention has been all on family and friends. His parents, Aaron and Lydia, are here along with my friend Billy and Eldon, Darnley’s brother – and various relatives and business people.

      Even my parents are down from Maine. This is a real treat for them. We spent Christmas with them when Darnley proposed, so they know all about it. I was glad to see him blend into our quiet lifestyle and soak up some of my Mom’s wholesome New England cooking – she goes to town in the kitchen on the rare occasions they have guests.

      Even Darnley seemed to relax. Old-fashioned home comforts have been sadly lacking from his life.

      ‘Hey. We’re here.’

      He seizes my hand and I jerk out of my reverie. As we step out of the car an icy wind whistles through the fenced-off section of JFK where his jet awaits, crouched on the runway like a gleaming insect.

      His driver drops a thick wrap over my shoulders as I pick my way across the icy tarmac. In the distance all around us light sparkles off the banks of soiled snow cleared from the runway.

      I shiver in the sharp cold as Darnley hurries me up the gangway. We shake hands with the crew just inside the low, curved doorway. As we settle into our seats we’re already taxiing in a slow curve, setting off towards the long row of double lights waiting to guide us out into the sky and send us west.

      We’re off to California.

      * * *

      The Cessna’s on loan from Aaron. It will refuel at some point. I wasn’t paying attention. I was admiring the extras laid on for our in-flight entertainment – champagne on ice, low, dreamy lighting, satin drapes, a bed – and planning the next stage of my campaign.

      We’re in the middle of a raging fight. The Ball was only a brief lull in our battle. Now the gloves are back on.

      When the crew finally retire to the fore and aft of the plane to continue their tasks, he closes a small padded door and ushers me into the cushioned privacy of what will be our sleeping quarters for the next few hours.

      Not that sleep’s too high on our list.

      ‘So?’ I glare at him across the soft, satin-lined cabin. ‘When are you seeing one? You promised, Darnley. You promised you’d see one as soon as we were engaged. It’s a –’ Crossly, I search for the right word here.

      ‘Condition?’ His steady, amused gaze is less than helpful. So is this pointed reference to the bracelets he gave me. Their conditions are mega-significant and sometimes deliberately – and deliciously – painful.

      ‘It’s a deal-breaker.’ There, I’ve said it. And if he wants to make something of it, let him.

      Instantly he does. I see his eyes narrow.

      ‘Really? Interesting. So when you wear my bracelets I can set conditions, but when you wear my ring you can “break the deal”? How does that work? Hey!’

      He pins my wrists behind my back with one hand, his fingers closing round them in a grip just this side of uncomfortable. ‘Here’s the deal. When I see a shrink it’ll be one of my choosing and in my own time. That suit?’

      He doesn’t wait for an answer as his mouth finds mine. I should fight this … but now his arms are winding around me, feeling my curves, fondling my valleys, his sure touch sending ripples through me, little pulses that any minute will spark into arousal.

      The ground I was so sure of only seconds ago is slipping away.

      When he pulls back he’s smiling down at me. When he speaks his voice purrs through me. ‘And guess what? My first choice is right here.’

      He finds my mouth again, and now he’s quit my wrists and he’s exploring me, intimate and urgent, warning me that fighting’s off the table but something else is very much on it. What’s more, his sardonic look warns me we’ve still got issues. Like not wanting a Ball in the first place.

      ‘So how did it go? Not so bad, was it?’

      I swallow. I’d wanted something quieter, more private. It had led to a battle of wills as he insisted on a blaze of publicity.

      ‘I want everybody to know. And I want everybody impressed. You should too.’

      ‘But I don’t want to be in the public eye all the time. Can’t we just text them? Send them a postcard?’

      His fury had been startling – then, as he followed it up with some energetic and very specific attention, glorious.

      ‘No way. Get used to it. That’s how we do things.’ He’d raised his head from between my thighs, his mouth still moist with my fulsome, unbidden response to his powerful argument. ‘Besides, it’s our special night. I’m not having you look back years from now and accuse me of not doing things properly.’

      Years? With him I never dare look beyond the next two hours.

      I smiled down at him and touched his face, his scowl warning me that my small-town New England ways would have to take a back seat for once – maybe for ever. And that just then he had more important things to do, like what he was doing just then.

      I swallowed, my will fading under his onslaught, my stomach muscles still rippling from the effect of his hungry tongue.

      Do it later, I thought. Fight later. I need this. I tried one last time. ‘You must. You promised. You said you’d see a professional, Darnley. Even now you’re starting to remember, there may still be issues –’

      I broke off with a gasp, derailed by an extra vicious jab from his hungry tongue.

      ‘Enough. I’ll find one in my own time, Ella. And in my own way.’ He was leaning on his elbows glaring down at me.

      For a split second I froze. The steel in his tone is always a shock, even when we’re doing this.

      ‘OK. I get it.’ I stroked his tense forehead and ruffled his springy mass of fresh-washed chestnut hair, thrilling to the glimmer of little blond highlights that sparkled at the ends. ‘And don’t stop,’ I gasped, giving in as gracefully as I could with my legs splayed wide and my arousal pounding. ‘I was enjoying that.’

      Now, as we face each other in the cushioned luxury of the private jet, his dark look demands an answer.

      ‘You’re right. It was a fantastic evening,’ I say quickly. Something burns deep down, something we’ve been putting off all evening.

      Does he sense this? I lower my gaze at the sudden glint in his eyes. I feel my breath quicken. It’s an effort to keep my voice even, to talk normally. ‘And – it was great seeing everybody again.’

      ‘Meaning what? I’m not enough for you?’ His eyes