Page 33 of Fly to Fury (War of the Alliance #3)
The ground crew wheeled the first of the returning aeroplanes into the hangar, and Pip strode to the nearest to begin her inspection of the propeller, engine, wiring from the magical power cell to the engine, and the wiring running on the outside of the aeroplane.
She’d inspected five aeroplanes, set her mechanics to repair two engines and Mak to magically refurbish fractures in one propeller, and was starting on the sixth when the familiar light scuffs sounded on the concrete behind her.
“How are the aeroplanes holding up?” Fieran’s voice rang behind her.
She resisted the urge to immediately scramble down the ladder.
Instead, she forced herself to continue her inspection of the engine wiring, her head and shoulders deep inside the engine compartment.
“Just fine. We had to fix a few wires and propellers, but we’ll have them skyworthy within a few hours. ”
“Anything I can fetch for you?” Fieran’s voice grew closer, as if he was now standing right beside her ladder.
The panicked part of her—which didn’t want to break the lightness of the moment with the discussion she needed to have—searched the engine compartment as she wracked her brain for some errand to send him on.
But she’d been woefully prepared and had everything she needed from new wire to wire cutters, spare nuts to torque wrench.
“Nope.” Her voice was too high-pitched, too filled with her tension to echo normally inside the engine compartment. “I’m good…I mean, I have everything I need.”
“Is everything all right?” Fieran’s voice lowered, gentled.
Bother. He knew her well enough to hear the change in her voice. Bother her meddling brother for putting all of this in her head.
“No. Nope. Everything’s fine. Just fine.” Pip stared at the wrench and the wires in her hand. What was she doing again? Which wire was she supposed to be replacing?
“Pip…” His tone was even softer now.
She sighed and set down her tools. There was no point in trying to work or putting this off. It was time to put on her grown-up overalls and face this with all the courage she was supposed to have as a daughter of the mountains.
She climbed down the ladder, staring at her feet rather than glancing at Fieran. Only once she had her feet planted on the steadiness of the concrete floor did she risk looking up.
He stood next to the aeroplane, tucked against the wing to fit beside her ladder. His bright blue eyes studied her, a furrow on his forehead beneath the strands of his red hair. His flight jacket, scarf, and hat lay over one arm while he held his goggles in one hand.
With the two of them sheltered behind the bulk of the fuselage and wings, she wouldn’t get a more private moment to talk with him, unless she could figure out some pretext for going on a walk with him in the direction of the hills where he practiced with his dacha in the mornings.
Her heart pounded in her throat, and her hands were trembling. This was it. Hopefully she wasn’t about to ruin every potential thing she could have with Fieran. “I’ve been meaning to talk with you.”
“I’ve been meaning to talk with you too.” Fieran’s posture stiffened, and he set his jacket, scarf, hat, and goggles on the wing, as if he felt he’d need both hands free for this serious conversation. “But you first.”
Rats. She should have waited a little longer and let him do the talking. Nothing for it now but to forge ahead.
“Us. Or the fact that there isn’t an us.” Ugh. Where did she even start? “I’m not sure I agree that we shouldn’t pursue anything until the war is over. At least, you never gave me the chance to agree or disagree. You just made the choice for both of us. And it should have been my choice too.”
She hardly dared to look at Fieran as her breath lodged somewhere in her chest, her heart roaring so loudly in her ears that she might not hear his response.
He had frozen where he stood, his smile set in place as a mask to hide his true feelings.
Then his gaze dropped from hers, his shoulders rising and falling with a breath.
“I’m sorry. You’re right. You’re not one of my flyboys who I can just command, and that’s not how a relationship works.
” His gaze swung back to her, the blue deeper, his smile gone, as he asked almost tentatively, “What would your choice have been?”
“I don’t know.” She blinked, her teeth gritting against the emotion rising in her.
She should know. She shouldn’t be this indecisive, especially when she was confronting him over not giving her a chance to voice her opinion.
She needed an actual opinion to voice. “I don’t know if starting a relationship would be too much of a distraction for both of us.
But I’m not sure not having a relationship has been any less distracting. At least, not for me.”
“Not for me either.” Fieran spoke the words so softly she nearly missed them over the hammering of her heart and the general hubbub of voices that filled the rest of the hangar.
“So what do we do now?” If only she didn’t sound so uncertain.
“Dating wouldn’t be against military regulations. You might be assigned to my squadron, but you technically aren’t under my chain of command.” Fieran stuck his hands in his pockets.
“True.” Pip hardly dared hope, her heart throbbing almost painfully in her chest. Did that mean what she thought it meant? Was he considering this? She had to pretend to be calm. “And I don’t think it would harm the squadron’s cohesion.”
“No. I think several of them already know something is up between us. Merrik certainly suspects.” Fieran shook his head, a trace of his smile returning.
“So does my brother,” Pip grumbled. More than suspected.
Fieran winced, the smile vanishing. “He’s not going to beat me up, is he?”
“Only if you don’t treat his little sister right or some other big brother rot.” She was so going to punch Mak for his meddling. Or hug him. Maybe both.
“I get that. I have three younger sisters of my own.” Fieran’s smile returned with a lopsided tilt as he eased forward. “So. We’re doing this?”
With Fieran looking at her like that, she could shove aside all the doubts about him being a prince and his famous family. At this moment, it was just the two of them, and if she concentrated on that, the answer resonated inside her .
Yes. So very much yes.
But the word stuck in her throat as Fieran took yet another step closer. Close enough that he could reach out and touch her if he wished. Close enough that her stomach was fluttering and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.
She needed to play it cool. Calm. She could be calm. No just throwing herself into his arms. Somehow, she managed to keep her voice steady, her tone firm. “We need to be sensible about this. No losing our heads.”
“Of course.” Slowly, as if waiting for her to pull away if she wished, Fieran reached out and gently brushed one of her curls from her face and tucked it behind her ear. The tips of his fingers brushed her cheek, and her skin tingled with the awareness even of that feather-light touch.
“No distracting each other when we are supposed to be working.” As they were doing now, but Pip didn’t want him to stop. She swayed closer, her hands somehow finding their way to bracing herself against his chest.
“At least, not for long.” Fieran eased an arm around her back. “We’ll keep each other in line and tell each other when it’s time to get back to work.”
“And we’ll keep it professional in front of the squadron.
” Pip’s knees were growing weak as she stared up at his face.
So near, and yet she was far too short to take matters into her own hands and just kiss him.
She had no choice but to wait for him to end the torture and kiss her already.
Not unless she fetched a box or a ladder, and that would rather break the moment.
“Mostly professional.” Fieran’s voice held an extra timbre, his smile mischievous, as he bent lower, tauntingly closer but still out of reach even if she stood on tiptoes.
“I’m beginning to see why you feared being distracted.” She could reach her arms around his neck now, her fingers finally brushing through the short strands of his red hair at the back of his neck. “You’re getting distracted by too much talking.”
“You’re doing just as much talking as I am.” Fieran’s voice trailed off as he leaned even closer, tilting his head.
She stood on her tiptoes, tugging him toward her or tugging herself up, she wasn’t sure. Perhaps both.
His lips faintly brushed over hers, and…
A clanging siren blared through the hangar, loud and clashing. An air raid.
Pip jumped, and she would have bashed her forehead against Fieran’s nose if he hadn’t also jerked away from her, straightening so fast that she lost her grip around his neck.
They shared one last glance—charged, longing—before Fieran turned and snatched his flight jacket and items from the wing, ready to go back to war.