He studied her face for a moment, and then glanced back along the cabin. ‘I just need to go and speak to the crew. I won’t be long.’
Biting her lip, she stared after him, a prickle spreading over her skin. She sat in uneasy silence, her senses tracking the plane’s descent, until she felt the jolt as it landed.
Something felt a bit off. But probably it was just because she’d never flown on a private jet before. Usually at this point everyone would be standing up and pulling down their luggage, chatting and grabbing their coats. This was so quiet, so smooth, so civilised. So A-list.
Glancing out of the window, Nola smiled. They might not be in Scotland yet, but the weather was doing its best to make her feel as if they were. She could hear the wind already, and fat drops of rain were slapping against the glass.
‘Come on—let’s go!’
Turning, she saw that Ram was standing beside her, his hand held out towards her.
She frowned. ‘Go where? Don’t we just wait?’
‘They need to clean the plane and do safety checks. And then the crew are going off-shift.’
She gazed up at him warily.
‘So where are we going?’
‘Somewhere more comfortable. It’s not far.’
Her heart began to thump. Maybe it would have been better after all if she’d just waited for another flight. But it was too late to worry about that now.
It was warm outside—tropical, even—but she still ducked her head against the wind and the rain.
‘Be careful.’
Ram took hold of her arm and, ignoring her protests, guided her down the stairs.
‘I can manage,’ she said curtly.
But still he ignored her, tightening his grip as he walked her across the runway to an SUV that was idling in the darkness.
Inside the car, he leaned forward and tapped against the glass. ‘Thanks, Carl. Just take it slow, okay?’
‘I thought you said it wasn’t far,’ she said accusingly.
Turning back to face her, he shrugged. But there was a small, satisfied smile on his handsome face that made her heart start to bang against her ribs.
‘It isn’t. But this way we stay nice and dry.’ His eyes mocked her. ‘Despite what you may have heard, I can’t actually control the weather.’
She nodded, but she was barely
listening to what he said; she was too busy squinting through the window into the darkness outside.
Stopover destinations to and from Australia usually depended on the airline. It could be Hong Kong, Dubai, Singapore or Los Angeles. Of course flying on a private jet probably meant that some of those options weren’t available. But, even so, something didn’t feel right.
For a start there were no lights, nor even anything that really passed as a building. In fact she couldn’t really see much at all, except a tangled, dark mass of trees and vegetation stretching away into the distance. Her heart began to beat faster, and she felt a rush of cold air on her skin that had nothing to do with the car’s air conditioning.
She forced herself to speak. ‘Where exactly are we?’
‘Queensland—just west of Cairns.’
Turning, she stared at him in confusion, her mouth suddenly dry.
‘What? We haven’t even left Australia? So why have we stopped? We’re never going to get to Scotland at this rate!’
‘We’re not going to Scotland,’ he said quietly.