Hired Girlfriend, Pregnant Fiancée?

Gabby grabbed a denim jacket, tugged it over her T-shirt and jeans. ‘I am now.’

Once in the passenger seat of his car, she turned to him. ‘So where are we going?’

‘I told you—it’s a surprise.’ He glanced at her before turning the ignition, and concern lit his blue-grey eyes. ‘It’s an hour till we get to our first port of call, so if you want to nap go ahead.’

She was tired. As soon as she went to bed each night questions marched behind her eyelids, along with doubts and worry as to whether she was doing the right thing for the baby. Yet now, when she closed her eyes, lulled by the movement of the car and his presence, she slept, opening her eyes only when the car came to a stop.

‘Where are we?’

‘A helipad. We’re flying by helicopter to Cornwall and we’re going to Tintagel Castle. I did some research and the flight is completely safe for the baby. But if you feel worried, obviously I’ll change the plan.’

Helicopter. It occurred to Gabby that for Zander taking a helicopter was akin to hopping in a taxi. The realisation was a reminder of just how wealthy he was, and for a moment discomfort tugged at her chest.

She blinked to dispel the unease. Zander had planned this, and it would be churlish not to simply appreciate it. ‘Let’s go!’

Twenty minutes later they approached the craft and she gazed at it in surreal fascination. ‘I’ve never seen one close up.’

‘I’ll climb in first and then help you. You need to use the footplates, and then there’s a big step up to get in.’

Once inside she settled back, and soon the whir of the blades made conversation impossible.

The eventual take-off was completely different to that of a plane.

‘It’s as if we’ve just lifted and floated upwards,’ she said.

Once they were airborne the noise abated a bit and she looked down over London, watching as it became smaller and smaller, the familiar landmarks looking like little toy miniatures.

‘So why Tintagel?’ she asked.

‘I figured I owe you a castle after Sintra, and I thought it would be good to spend a day together away from familiar haunts. Give us a chance to centre ourselves. It’s been a pretty momentous few days.’

The rest of the journey was spent watching the landscape. The aerial perspective of rich swirls of brown and green dotted with farm buildings, grey blocks of towns and cities, caught her breath with its sheer variety. Then finally there was the intense sweep of the sea that indicated they were nearly at their destination, a prelude to the helicopter’s descent.

As they alighted from the craft, the Cornish breeze combined with the whir of the helicopter blades to lift her hair in a wild tangle and puff out her clothes so she resembled a fairground mirror reflection.

Once en route in the hired car, Gabby gave herself up to the sheer pleasure of watching the beauty of the Cornish countryside flash past. The fields were full of summer—the golden swish of corn, the deep brown loam of tilled earth—and stacked hay dotted the horizon. The drone of a tractor through the open window mixed with the buzz of insects, whilst cows and sheep watched their journey with placid interest. They passed a farmhouse, and then the green changed shade as the landscape turned to scrubland and then back again.

At the end of a half-hour journey Tintagel came into view, the ruined castle a craggy, impressive feature that loomed over the headland to the sea.

‘Tintagel is where King Arthur is said to have been conceived—you can’t get much more magical than that,’ she said.

‘Then let’s go.’

As they walked from the car park Gabby had an urge to take his hand, but held back, unsure as to the etiquette. Somehow, to hold hands now they were getting married seemed to imply a level of intimacy unsuitable in an arranged union. Instead she allowed herself to enjoy the warmth of his presence, to appreciate the thought that had gone into this trip.

The short walk to the ticket office was achieved in companionable silence and then they began the trek to the castle ruins, pausing as they looked across a wooden bridge and up...and up...at the steep ascent.

Zander frowned. ‘I should have researched this better. I got hooked on historical splendour and magical legends. I’m not sure you should climb this.’

Gabby considered for a moment. ‘The doctor said I’d be fine with exercise.’

‘Hmm... Hang on. I’m going to call Julia for advice.’ Minutes later Zander dropped the phone in his pocket. ‘Right, Julia said she went rock climbing in her first trimester with Heidi and was fine. Her advice is to try it, but to turn back if there is any problem, however small, and to take it slowly.’

‘Yes, sir!’

His concern made her feel...cared for. Alert! Alert! His care was, as it should be, for the baby.

As they walked across the bridge he stayed close to her. Every so often he reached out as if to steady her, and she smiled up at him as they paused, arm in arm, and looked over the rail at a sea that was a clear sun-sparkled turquoise.