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"Aye. Follow me."
I start walking toward the cockpit, but since the aircraft is on the ground, the rear section is angled downward with the tail wheel resting on the ground. This creates a rather steep grade. Ashley trips over one of the floor rails. I catch her before she falls.
"What are these rails for?" she asks. "Seems dangerous to have them there."
"The rails are for securing the cargo with the belts you see." I pick her up and carry her toward the open doorway to the cockpit. "Time to get strapped in, Ashley. We're about to take off."
Chapter Twelve
Ashley
"Is this plane actually air-worthy?" I ask, as he carries me into the cramped, somewhat dilapidated cockpit and sets me down on a seat that has no arms. "I see wires hanging out of the doohickeys on the dashboard or whatever you call it. Is it even legal to fly a rickety old plane? Do you have a pilot's license? Maybe we should drive to Inverness and catch the next commercial flight to Manchester."
Errol straps me in with a lap belt and gives me a patient smile. "Relax, lass. I know what I'm doing, I haven't killed anyone yet."
Not yet? Oh, yeah, that's very comforting. I might be panicking. My pulse is racing, my breaths come fast and shallow, and my face has started to tingle.Breathe, idiot, slow and easy.My self-administered advice helps a little. I swear I'm not a coward. But after experiencing how Errol drives a car, I can't help worrying about the way he plans on flying this plane.
Errol lays a palm on my cheek and urges me to look at him. "Would it help if I kissed you? That seems to make you very relaxed and mindless."
"Not sure if—"
He seals his mouth over mine and pushes his hand into my hair to cradle my nape. His breaths warm my face, and the feel of his lips does have the desired effect. I can't stop my body from softening or a slight moan from flowing out of me. This shouldn't work. A kiss to make me less anxious? But every time Errol touches his lips to mine I melt and suddenly can't remember anything except how much I want to thrust my tongue into his mouth.
When he pulls his head back, he smirks at me. "That did the trick, aye? Let me know when you need another kiss to boost your morale."
It's not my morale that got slick and hot from a simple lip-lock.
Errol climbs into the other seat and buckles up, then he starts fiddling with controls. "We'll take off shortly."
"You never answered my question about the wires and stuff that stick out of the dashboard."
"It's the instrument panel, not the dashboard."
Knowing the correct term for it also doesn't make me feel any better. Maybe I do need another "morale boost" from Errol, but I'll never tell him that. He must think I'm a moron, but I know he's insane, so we're even.
In front of me, I see a steering wheel. But the thing seems to have something wrong with it. When I glance at Errol's side of the cockpit, I notice his wheel looks the same. "The steering wheels are broken. The top third is completely missing. How can you fly that way?"
He gives me another patient smile. "They're called control wheels, and they are not broken. This is what the wheels are meant to look like. Would you feel better if I explained the purpose of every instrument? Rudder pedals, aileron trim, azimuth indicator…"
"You can stop. We need to get going, so I'll just live with not understanding how this plane works. But I am worried about those wires."
"They're fine, Ashley. You said you trust me, so trust me."
"Okay. I'm sorry to be such an annoying pain in the ass."
He leans over to pat my cheek. "You are not a pain, and I'm not annoyed. But I do love your erse."
"You're very patient, Errol. After your pyrotechnic display, I wasn't expecting that." I glance up at an instrument I do recognize. "You have a compass."
"Aye."
"No GPS?"
He sighs. "No, lass, I prefer the old-school ways."
"Do you have a radio? In case of emergency?"
Errol starts fiddling with controls on the instrument panel. "Yes, Ashley, I do have a radio. It was broken, but I bought a new one in preparation for this flight. No need to panic. But if the radio should stop working, I have an alternate means of communication." He wrestles an object out of his pants pocket and holds up his phone. "Right here."
