The French Aristocrat's Baby by Christina Hollis

happened to her before. However, after a moment of fear as they lifted off, she slowly began to relax. The bustle of the world below faded away as they zoomed towards the sea. She had no sooner decided she liked the sensation of flying in a helicopter than they began circling in to land on the deck of an enormous ocean-going yacht, moored far out in the bay.
    ‘I didn’t think it was possible for your eyes to get any bigger, Gwen!’ Etienne smiled. He moved as though he was about to lay his hand on her shoulder, but pulled it away at the last moment.
    ‘It’s enormous—and so beautiful!’ She sighed, gazing down into the perfect blue of the on-board pool. ‘However much must it have cost?’
    It would have been an obvious comment to make to any of her friends from the valley back at home, but the worst sort of social gaffe in the circumstances. Her hands flew to her mouth.
    ‘Oh, Etienne, how rude was that! I’m so sorry!’
    He chuckled indulgently. ‘Don’t be. Your honesty sends a real breath of fresh air through my life, Gwen. Any other woman would have pretended to be gazinginto my eyes while her mind calculated my net worth. Business associates would assume it was leased. The truth is The Windflower is all mine. But when it comes to how much she costs—well…’ he gave another of his characteristic shrugs ‘…it would be rude to discuss it. As I’ve told you before, I value my privacy highly. When I discovered that there are a thousand tiny, uninhabited tropical islands scattered around the world, it was a challenge I couldn’t resist. I contacted a designer and asked him to build me a vessel that provided sevenstar accommodation. He did the work, all I did was sign the cheques. Whatever she cost, she’s worth every cent. Whenever I get some free time, I head out to sea. For those occasions when my companion doesn’t feel like sharing a hammock slung between two palm trees, I can whisk them back to my ship on the launch or by helicopter, depending how far out she’s moored. As a floating pleasure palace, she’s invaluable.’
    As he spoke he leaned across her, so close she could feel the warmth of his face next to hers. A mad impulse made her want to kiss his cheek, but she resisted. He kept his eyes resolutely fixed on his beautiful yacht, but Gwen guessed he was waiting for her to make a move. He was so sure of himself, it made her even more determined not to let herself be swept away by the rip tide of her desire. The half-smile sculpting his beautiful mouth dared her to go back on her word and give in to his every temptation. After stalking out of his house in such fury, she couldn’t possibly back down. She drew in one long, slow, lingering breath. It was filled with the high notes of his cedar-fragranced aftershave. That wasdelicious enough, but beneath it simmered the warmer, darker temptations of vital maleness.
    ‘I’ll bet your lifetime list of islands has a column for women, too,’ she murmured, finding it hard to sound sarcastic when he was so very close.
    ‘It’s a hobby,’ he said with a mischievous grin.
    The helicopter drifted into land exactly on the target painted in the middle of its upper deck. As the rotors slowed to a halt a long procession of Etienne’s domestic staff emerged. They greeted her with smiles as he introduced each of them by name. Gwen had been nervous. Now she felt much more relaxed as Etienne showed her down from the deck. The contrast between hot bright sunshine and the cool silence of the luxurious living conditions was like chilled champagne.
    ‘This is lovely,’ she sighed. Her sleeveless T-shirt was no protection against the midday sun. She was glad of the cold kiss of air-conditioning on the tender pink skin of her shoulders. ‘It’s even better than your hotel.’
    ‘I should hope so. And this is only the offices and boardrooms. The suites are situated where they get the best views.’
    Everything had a brand-new sheen about it. Gwen wanted