"I've never been on a cruise, if that's what you're asking. Are you planning our honeymoon?"
Was that a hint? Should he be planning their honeymoon already?
"I hate flying," he admitted. "If I could, I'd never leave the ground again. But I promised to take you to Scotland to meet my mother and visit all the places you grew up in." He gestured vaguely westward. "A ship is an option. Slower, but safer."
Fenella laughed. "A sea voyage from Los Angeles to Scotland? That would take weeks! Even months. They would have to go through the Panama Canal, or around South America, thenacross the Atlantic..." She shook her head. "That's assuming we could even find a passenger ship doing that route."
She was right, but the idea of weeks at sea seemed preferable to hours in the air. "Ships don't fall from the sky."
"No, they just sink," she pointed out. "Or catch fire. Or get hijacked by pirates."
"Modern piracy is actually quite rare?—"
"Din." She stepped closer, placing both hands on his chest. "Life is scary. Bad things happen. But we can't avoid everything that's unsafe. That's not living—that's just existing, paralyzed by fear."
He covered her hands with his. "As I said, you are much braver than I am."
"I'm not," she said. "I'm a survivor. When shit happens and you manage to get out alive, it's a cause for celebration, for thanking Fate by embracing life instead of letting fear and despair bury you. That being said, I'm not looking for danger. I wouldn't have kept running for half a century and getting in trouble if I knew of a place like the village where I could be safe. I would have gladly stayed there."
"Not true. Until not too long ago, you were plotting ways to escape the village. You felt trapped, and you wanted your freedom back."
A smirk lifted one side of her mouth. "Busted. I was just so used to roving that staying put in one place became difficult. It felt unsafe. Letting people in and planning a future terrified me."
"But it no longer does, right?"
She pouted. "It still does a little, but I know it's going to be okay because you are with me."
"I love you." He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him, pressing a kiss to her mouth.
"Move along, lovebirds!" Max called from the top of the stairs. "You're the last ones."
Fenella made a hand gesture toward Max that spoke louder than words, and kissed Din back. When she was done, she turned to Max with a triumphant smile on her face and only then led Din up the stairs.
The cabin was already filled with their companions.
It was a little more crowded on the way back than it had been on the way here, but there were enough seats for everyone.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the pilot's voice came over the intercom. "We're expecting a smooth flight to Los Angeles today, with a brief refueling stop in Paris. Flight time will be approximately eighteen hours. Please ensure your seatbelts are fastened for takeoff."
Eighteen hours, with two takeoffs and two landings. Din settled back in his seat and closed his eyes.
"Stop it." Fenella put her hand over his.
"I'm not doing anything."
"You're catastrophizing." She interlaced their fingers. "Tell me about your castle in Scotland."
It was a transparent distraction technique, but he let her get away with it. "There's a loch near the castle, surrounded by pines. In the early morning, mist rises from the water likesomething out of a legend. Sometimes red deer come to drink at the shore."
"That sounds lovely."
"I used to fish there, though my friends and I rarely caught anything. I think we were too loud, scaring everything away. Or maybe the fish just sensed us."
The engines roared to life, and Din's grip on Fenella's hand tightened involuntarily. She squeezed back, continuing to ask questions about the clan's home in Scotland as the plane began to taxi.
He continued, "In winter, the whole landscape transforms into something from a fairy tale. Though fairy tales in our homeland tend to involve more murders and fewer happy endings than the Disney versions."
She laughed. "Naturally. Can't have too much happiness in Scottish folklore."
