“Shouldn’t we be sitting in the back?” she asks.
“Nope.” I pull my helmet on, and she’s still studying me.
“Is Brenton going to be the one flying this thing?”
“Now, Aurelia, why would I put you up here to be next to Brenton?”
I climb into the seat next to her, in front of all the controls. They feel good in my hands; it’s been several months since I sat in a cockpit, but sitting here again is like a homecoming. I miss this. That shocked expression is back on Aurelia’s face, and it’s just so adorable. It makes it hard for me to not lean over and kiss it right off of her, but then we’d never get going.
My protection officer hops in the back and straps himself in as I do final checks. I switch on the microphone in my helmet as I start the engine, and the rotors roar to life. Aurelia does the same. She fiddles with the seat belts, and I chuckle, reaching over to help her buckle in. I hear her breath catch as I adjust the straps over her chest and not so accidentally graze a breast. My heart jumps a little, and the jasmine scent of her hair washes over me as I suck in a calming breath of my own. Back in my own seat, I try to get my mind and heart back under control—no distractions in the cockpit. My hands back on the controls, I feel a different sort of excitement rush through my body.
“I didn’t know your military training translated to civilian aircraft, too.” Her voice is loud in my ears.
“No need to shout, these headsets are quite sensitive.” She gives me a sheepish smile, and I shoot her a little wink for reassurance. “And it’s true this is a bitdifferent from what I flew in the RAC, but I learned on this first when my training date kept getting pushed back.”
Aurelia nods, and as the lurch of takeoff shudders through the cabin, her knuckles go white on the seat. She’s doing that thing with her lip again, and blood that’s needed by my brain starts to rush to other places. I start my mantra in my head, reciting the first Psalm to stifle the burning desire to put my hands all over her so I can put all my focus into flying this bird.
She’s quiet as I take her over the city, the hustle of the capital like ants in a colony below us, silent and methodical. It doesn’t take long for Aurelia to peel her hands from her grip on the seat and drop her shoulders. I wish I could see her face as we leave the city proper and move out over the lush green land the surrounds it, but she’s turned away, face as close to the window as the helmet will allow.
This is my favorite view, the world laid out below me in all its verdant beauty, and I’m like an eagle, soaring above, proud and regal as I survey my kingdom. If I’m reading her body language correctly, she’s just as enraptured. It makes my chest swell with affection and a little pride.Any man can drive his date to a beautiful location, but how many can give her this?
“This is… incredible,” she breathes as we follow the Ardsmure River towards the looming mountains. “Everything feels so small and yet so alive from up here. And like, nothing at all matters except pure, natural beauty.”
I find it a little hard to breathe because it’s exactly how I feel, and this woman is speaking from my soul. I want to share all my favorite things with her, knowing now that she would appreciate them just as I do. There’s a tingle of anticipation as I start to descend as we approach the mountains. She’s getting a taste of some of my most precious joys today.
It’s a smooth landing on the huge lawn in front of Whitewood; I am, of course, well-practiced at bringing this baby down, but Aurelia is once again holding onto her seat for dear life. I cut the engines and the rotors slow. We remove our helmets, and I shake out my hair. When I was in the Royal Air Corps, I kept my hair short and neat in proper military protocol, and never had to worry about my flight helmet fucking it up. Aurelia must have some sort of sixth sense about things because she wore her long, thick hair in a braid over her shoulder today, and it’s still perfect after the flight. My only complaint is the inability to run my fingers through the auburn silk later.
My old flight instructor would have my head for it, but I leave the post-flight checks and tuck-in to Brenton. He flew more than enough missions with me in my Royal Air Corps days. Hell, he went through the same training as me and is more than qualified to handle it, so I can get on with my plans for the day.
Aurelia turns on the spot as she takes in this place. The trees around us have shed their leaves, but I don’t think that changes their beauty a bit; it’s hauntingeven, but I’d still love to bring her back in the spring when this place is in full color.
Her eyes land back on me, and I offer her my arm.
“Did I mention that you look lovely today, Miss Aurelia?” I whisper. Her penchant for skinny jeans may well be my undoing one day, and I’ve never known a high-collared jumper to be as alluring as this one, but the way it draws my attention to her graceful neck is making it hard for me to keep from placing kisses all over it. Even the nearly casual contact of her small hand wrapping around my upper arm as I walk us towards the house tests my self-control.
She blushes in that way that sends my heart thundering and casts her eyes down at the ground. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
I stop walking and turn to face her. “Really, now? I’m letting you inside the most sacred home of my family, and you still won’t call me Fritz?”
She lets out a nervous chuckle. “We’ll see.”
I brush a flyaway strand of hair back from her forehead and place a quick kiss on her brow. She hums and tilts her face to me, parting her lips a little, asking. I’m not one to tell a lady no, and I can scarcely contain my need as I taste her lips on mine. It’s so chaste and tender and shouldn’t have me ready to pounce on her right here on the front lawn. She pouts a little when I pull away, and my resolve has never had to be stronger.The plans, the plans. Woo first, then devour.
I move her hand back to my arm, wishing those fingers were wrapped around something else, andlead her finally into Whitewood House. I give her a moment to take in the front hall. She turns slowly again, admiring the open space. The foyer blends into a large sitting room on one side and a ballroom on the other. Beyond the ballroom, two huge doors stand open, revealing a formal dining room. In the middle of the hall, a double staircase rises with both sides making a half turn up to the second floor. The ceiling is open, and carved wood rails line the gap in the floor upstairs. Fires crackle in the four hearths in the main room, giving the grand house a rustic and cozy feel.
“Come, let me show you around.” The squeeze of her fingers on my bicep makes my blood heat while I lead her through the various rooms here on the bottom floor. She stops at the shining grand piano in the corner of the lounge.
“I always wish I’d learned to play,” she says, tracing the edge of the black wood that covers the keys.
I have vivid memories of sitting before the piano from a very young age, trying to hold back tears of frustration as Mother sat patiently beside me. And then the elation of a piece that finally settles in the mind, the ecstasy of a rousing concerto or a mournful nocturne. Miles calls it piano-gasm.
“You can still learn,” I say, caressing her cheek with the back of my finger.
“Will you play for me?”
The sweet pleading in her eyes is irresistible. I make a show of taking a seat, pretending to flip my imaginarytailcoat behind me, garnering an eyeroll but also the smile that never ceases to make my heart pound.
I pat the spot beside me on the bench, and she situates herself on the very edge of the wooden seat. Drawing her closer to me, her thigh presses against mine, sending shocks up my whole body. I draw in a breath to steady myself and lift the cover on the keyboard.
