“Do you happen to have an extra?” I asked.
She blinked at me before she dug in her purse again and handed me another hardback. The cover had a knife on it, but tucked inside was an old, worn-down Harlequin.
I had no problem reading my romance books in public. There was nothing embarrassing about love, but Cian and Keenan didn’t seem like the romantic types. I could understand why Fiona hid them. She might lose a little of her badass essence if they knew what she was reading.
It didn’t take me long to get lost inside the pages. It was about a villain who stole the heroine from the hero and held her captive. There wasn’t really a hero in my story, but…the storyline felt close to home, and I looked up to steal a glance at Cian.
That gray eye was staring at me.
No.
More than staring.
It was studying me.
It felt like that anyway.
His eye flicked down for a second, then slammed into mine again. I realized I must have been nervously playing with the ring while I read.
I met his stare and raised my chin a little. I wasn’t sure why he was studying me, but it made my heart pump faster and my stomach drop, like we’d hit a pocket of air and the plane lost some altitude before it leveled again.
A man had never elicited a physical reaction from me like that before. My body felt alive, like an electrical current ran between us. I wasn’t sure what to do about it, or how to make it stop.
Neither one of us was looking away.
To add to the oddity of the situation, anger coursed through me too. I was this man’s prisoner, and I hated it.
And to think, less than twenty-four hours ago, I was thankful for Cian Cillian O'Callaghan’s name at the Craig’s table. It had stopped Dermot’s hand from roaming up my leg, along with all the wedding talk.
A flight attendant emerged from the back of the plane. I hadn’t moved my eyes from his, but I heard her talking about breakfast. The only reason I broke eye contact first was because she went to set a tray of food down in front of Cian, and he held his hand up. She pulled the tray back a second before he could knock it out of her hand.
He nodded toward me. She looked between us, clearly unsure about what he wanted.
Keenan cleared his throat. “He’d like the lady—” he nodded toward me “—to eat first.”
I shook my head. “I’m not hungry.”
Cian nodded, as if to say,you are and you’ll eat.
“I’m not.” That was sort of a lie. I didn’t have much of an appetite, but my stomach was about to start growling. I could feel it twisting and turning, gearing up to make some noise. The last time I’d eaten was at the Craig’s.
Cian growled low in his throat. To retaliate, I crossed my arms over my chest. Maybe it was a small thing, but I was the only one in control of when I ate. He wasn’t going to force that on me. And why did he care if I ate or not? Was he going to try to fatten me up like a turkey before he killed me?
The panic on the stewardess face was clear. She had no clue what to do with the tray. Keenan had pity on her and told her to bring the tray to me. As soon as she set it down, I handed it to Fiona.
Cian stood up so fast in his seat, the stewardess gasped. I stood up too. He towered over me.
“Where are you taking me?” I didn’t yell, but my voice didn’t break either. It was doing a good job of hiding the panic inside of my heart. I had nothing to lose if this man was going to kill me anyway, right?
He was breathing heavy, his chest heaving, and I could feel his cool, minty breath on my face. He was tense, the veins in his neck swollen, and so were the ones in his arms and hands. His fists were clenched at his sides.
I looked at Keenan. Again, he was taking us in with a mixture of fascination and fear, but this time, it was more fascination. I sensed it when Cian gave a subtle nod. Permission for Keenan to speak.
“Éire,” Keenan said.
“Ireland?” I translated. My father spoke Gaelic Irish, and I knew some of the words.
“That’s what I said.” He tucked his cap over his eyes and relaxed in his seat.
