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Overhead, a wedge-tailed eagle soared against the dusk sky, its majestic wingspan making something inside Tate flood with awe.

‘You can’t blackmail her into marriage. If she says no, you need to find another way.’

The eagle swooped lower, towards the line of trees in the distance.

‘There is no other way, and we both know that.’

Rex was silent for a beat and then, ‘In that case, I suppose congratulations are in order. Let me know when it’s official.’

‘Will do.’ Tate disconnected the call, but stayed where he was.

A growing sense of unease was spreading through him at how this might play out. If she refused to marry him, how far would he take it? Would he actually push the issue, demanding custody? Drag her through courts, for all the world to see? Every single part of him revolted against the idea of the public spectacle, and yet…for the sake of his child, would he do it?

This morning, he hadn’t even known he was going to become a father, and in the space of a day, everything had changed. It turned out there was now nothing he wouldn’t do, and that scared the hell out of him.

* * *

She’d spent the better part of three days exploring this stunning place when they’d been stranded together, but it was different now. Then, she’d been a guest at the home of a man she’d presumed she’d never see again. Now? He was doing his level best to push her into marriage, and so when she walked through the place this time, she tried to imagine it on a more permanent basis. She tried to imagine living here, calling it her home, too.

Except, it wouldn’t be her home. This was Carrigan land, and if she knew one thing about the super-rich, it was that they tirelessly protected what was theirs. Tate Carrigan was proposing marriage, but it wouldn’t be a ‘what’s mine is yours’ kind of situation. No doubt he’d ‘provide’ for her—something she passionately hated the idea of—but Sarah would need to work, to earn her own income—she would need that for her own sense of self.

Ironbark Ridge Station was pretty much the middle of nowhere, way out in western Queensland. The nearest town was only a twenty-minute drive away, though—there had to be a school there, some opportunity for a teacher with her experience? Something thudded inside her then, as she thought of her child and realised they, too, would need to attend school. In the town, or would Tate want their son or daughter to go into the city? To—heaven forbid—boarding school? She knew that was quite common with rural families; she’d had a lengthy conversation in a country pub in nearby Shirlhorn with a couple who had three children at school in Sydney.

She moved into a different room—this one an office, with a large timber desk, and striking views towards the horizon. An old, silvery gum was perfectly centred in the distance, casting patchy shade across the lawn. The walls were lined with leather-bound books, but there was no computer, or laptop, and the office had a musty smell. Curiosity had her stepping deeper inside, running her fingertip over the old, ornate desk, then jumping out of her skin when Tate said, from the doorway, ‘Sarah.’

She startled as though she’d been caught pulling jewels from the safe, whipping around to face him, offering a grimace by way of apology. ‘I was just…having a look around.’

He arched a brow, his features unreadable, and made no attempt to move into the room, though his eyes flicked to the corners before moving back to her. ‘It was my father’s office,’ he explained, his voice strangely devoid of emotion.

‘Oh.’ She removed her finger from the desk, then stood with her hands at her sides.

‘I haven’t been in here in a long time.’

‘Since he died?’

‘Longer.’

She frowned. ‘Why not?’

He moved then, putting one hand on the doorknob. ‘You must be hungry.’

He wasn’t going to answer her question, then. So much for getting to know him better. She sighed softly as she moved towards the door, to leave the office, but he stayed where he was, so stepping through the doorway brought her body perilously close to his. Perilously, particularly when her gaze lifted to his and she noticed the way his pulse was throbbing at the base of his throat. The way his mouth tightened as though he was steeling himself not to kiss her. He pulled the door closed behind her, and yet she didn’t move. Her feet just refused to shift, even when his closing the door brought his body hard up against hers. She could only stare at him, her blood throbbing wildly in her veins.

‘Why are you exploring?’ he asked, voice mesmerisingly deep, Adam’s apple shifting as he spoke.

She tried not to stare at his lips. She tried not to remember how they felt when he kissed her, but the truth was memories of that kiss had been heavy on her mind these past ten weeks.

‘Does it bother you?’

‘Not particularly.’

He shifted, so his knee pressed against hers, and she had to bite back a soft moan. ‘I thought I should.’

He continued to stare down at her, close, but not touching. Not how she wanted to be touched.

‘I mean, I got to know my way around, back then, but…’

‘This is different,’ he supplied, eyes scanning hers before sliding to her lips and clinging there, as though his mind was flooded with the same memories that were haunting her. ‘Isn’t it, Sarah?’