“Then give me your other hand, lass, and let’s be on our way.”
She extended her left hand and he took that one, as well. With one easy motion he swept her up and into the cabin.
“Oh!” She stumbled against him, her breasts brushing lightly against his chest. Spots of color appeared high on her cheeks and she ducked her head.
It surprised him to note that he still held her hands firmly in his. He released her and took a step backward. “Sit next to me,” he advised. “The ride will be smoother up front.”
“No, thank you.” Her tone was firm. “The passenger seat is fine with me.”
“We’ll be flying into some choppy air. The ride is smoother up front.”
“Back here is fine with me.”
“You’ll be changing your mind soon enough.”
“I doubt that.” He could hear the edge in her voice. The businesswoman had once again banished the more vulnerable woman.
“It’s an hour flight,” he said, striding toward the cockpit. “We’ll see where you end up.”
SAM HAD LIKED HIM better when he was naked and mute.
She’d grown up with a father who believed he knew what was best for his three daughters, everything from what kind of toothpaste they used to whom they would marry and when. Lucky Wilde had even issued an ultimatum, demanding that his girls marry by year’s end or lose their inheritance. Her sisters might get themselves all worked up over their father’s edict, but Sam would never pay attention to nonsense like that. As far as she was concerned, marriage and slavery were synonymous and she wanted no part of either one.
She’d watched her father move from marriage to marriage, testing wives the way Goldilocks tested porridge. Her mother had been his first wife—and the only one to walk out on him.
He’d been a faithful husband to Julia. Truth was, he’d been faithful to all of his wives. Julia, however, hadn’t felt obliged to return the favor. She left Lucky Wilde six months before their second anniversary, leaving behind their year-old baby girl. Julia remained a strong presence in Sam’s life, but Sam grew up under Lucky’s watchful eye.
There had been some rocky times during her adolescence when her need for freedom clashed with his need for control, but somehow she had managed to stand up to her powerful father and enter adulthood with her independence intact. After that, standing up to this arrogant Scotsman should be a piece of cake.
She strapped herself into one of the two narrow passenger seats while he prepared for takeoff. The engine clattered to life and she tried to ignore the tinny sound as the propellers whirred madly outside her window. Rain pinged against the glass, blown horizontal by a gust of wind. It must have started while she was fastening her seat belt.
She leaned forward in her seat. “Excuse me,” she called out over the clanking engine. “Are you sure you should be taking off in this weather?”
He turned in his seat and fixed her with a dark-eyed look. “What weather?”
“What weather?” Her voice rose in surprise. “There’s practically a gale blowing out there.”
“A fine April day in Scotland,” he said. “The real storm is still miles away.”
“My father’s pilot would never take off in this.”
“You’re telling me my business, lass?”
“I’m not telling you anything. I’m making a suggestion. And while I’m at it, I’d like to strongly suggest you stop calling me lass. My name, in case you’ve forgotten, is Samantha.” She couldn’t ask him to call her Ms. Wilde. Not after she’d seen him naked. Besides, the less he knew about her, the better.
He turned his attention to the job at hand without “ another word. Whether or not he was willing to admit it, Sam knew the elements were conspiring against them.
What was it they’d told her at her fear of flying classes? Deep thinking, deep talking—deep breathing, that was it. Deep, calming breaths just like pregnant women learned at Lamaze classes. Not that Sam believed a few deep breaths could quell either her fear of flying or the rigors of childbirth, but she might as well give it a try. She pulled air into her lungs, held it for a few seconds, then slowly released it. Then she did it again, more loudly this time.
He glanced at her over his shoulder. “You said something?”
Once again her face flamed. “No,” she said. “Not a word.” Hard to believe that back home she was considered unflappable.
“I heard something.”
“It wasn’t me.” He probably didn’t believe her, but that was his problem. Right now she had to concentrate all of her energy on the takeoff. It wasn’t that she was superstitious or anything, but she knew that if she so much as blinked and lost concentration, something terrible would happen and—
A huge gust of wind slammed into the aircraft broadside and, muttering a curse, the pilot brought the plane to a screeching halt.
“I told you so.” The words popped out before she had the chance to think about what she was saying. Terror will do that to a woman.
He unbuckled his seat belt, then stood up and faced her. He towered over her. His wide shoulders seemed to block out all light. For the first time she wasn’t thinking about the way he’d looked naked. She was thinking about the way he’d look when he pleaded temporary insanity after they charged him with her murder.
His voice was a controlled roar. “Say no more until we’re up or I won’t be held accountable.”
“Up?” Her voice rose to match the word. “Are you crazy? How much more of a warning do you need?” She knew she was playing with fire but he was the one who’d lit the match.
“The winds shifted. There’s no cause for alarm.”
“That wind almost blew us halfway to Glasgow.”
“We were in no danger. I’ve been flying for twenty years without incident.”
“There’s always a first time.”
“Aye,” he said darkly as he sat down. “For many things.”
“You know what,” she said, unbuckling her seat belt. “I think
