Page 51 of An Enchanted Spring

“Stop you from doing what, exactly?”

He settled into his seat. “Nothing for you to worry about.”

She stared at him so silently for so long, even Aidan felt the need to squirm.

“Emma, ignore him. He’s put out about not piloting, is all.” Aidan folded his arms.

She frowned. “Where are we staying?”

“Reilly’s cottage, to start. Then I plan to head home.”

“Where will I go?”

“With me.”

She frowned harder. “I’ve been thinking about it, and I think it’s best if we keep things…professional between us.”

“Smart lass,” Reilly agreed.

“No one asked for your opinion,” Aidan said, resisting theurge to open the emergency exit and toss Reilly into the water below. He concentrated on Emma. “I had an alternate impression earlier today.”

She threw him a glare that would freeze the depths of hell. “I’m aware. We won’t make that mistake again.”

Reilly whistled. “Ouch.”

Aidan’s eyes narrowed to slits. “O’Malley, tell Les that if he doesn’t let you in that cockpit, this will be his last flight as my pilot.”

“Woohoo!” Reilly exclaimed with the excitement of a five-year-old boy as he leaped out of his seat and charged back to the cockpit door.

“Cian, remove yourself to the washroom,” Aidan commanded. Cian, who had been sitting near the bathroom, looking miserable with a bag clutched tightly in his hand, immediately unfastened his seatbelt and closed the small door behind him. Amanda discreetly closed the door to the back cabin.

“Care to explain what mistake you’re referring to?” Aidan asked, his voice deadly calm.

She crossed her legs and folded her hands over her knee. “You don’t scare me, MacWilliam. Everyone else might jump as high as you demand, but I won’t.”

He didn’t move. “That’s a poor explanation.”

“The Universe stepped in and stopped us from making a colossal mistake. I accept that truth. You’re not even my type,” she finished firmly, apparently not noticing his expression progressively darken.

“Excuse me?” he barked.

She shrugged and refused to give any ground. “You’re not my type.”

He sat back and crossed his arms. “What, exactly, is your type, Emma? From where I sit, yourtypeisn’t exactly working for you.”

“You don’t know anything about me!”

He closed his mouth, instantly regretting his words and temper. She sniffed, and his gut twisted at the anguish on her face.

“Did you so truly love him?” he asked softly.

“You don’t have the right to ask that question. And you certainly don’t have the privilege to know the answer.”

Fear, uncertainty, vulnerability; it was written all over her lovely face, tied into her anger. With sudden clarity, he realized he’d need to do more than seduce her in order to earn her heart.

And, for reasons he didn’t care to examine too closely just yet, he truly wanted to earn her heart.

He let out a sigh. He didn’t care to argue with her. His phone rang, and he didn’t take his eyes off Emma as he answered.

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