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“But...” Lady Varelle’s protestations were wasted on empty air.

Maelin had gone.

*~~*~~*

Cyrus paced the wharf, his eyes everywhere, watching for Maelin, hoping she’d received his message. Sending it had been something of an undertaking, since he couldn’t remember the last time he’d sent a note to a woman. Usually, he was on the receiving end, but this time he needed to share what he’d learned from Primrose at the Gilded Lily.

And he needed to see Mae, to know she was all right, just to...touch her. Which, he berated himself, was so utterly unlike him, he put his hand to his forehead to see if perhaps he was coming down with some strange ailment.

Then he sighed. Yes, he did indeed have a strange ailment. He was showing all the signs of having a bad case of Lady Maelin.

Which probably couldn’t have happened at a worse time, but there it was. The common cold, Lanthir flu, and Maelin of Theryn. He’d had the first two and survived quite nicely. The third? She might be dangerous. She might also be the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to him, but he wasn’t even going to think about that.

The sound of hurried feet tapping over the boards of the wharf caught his attention and he turned to see who was in such a rush.

And there she was. A soft blue wrap around her arms, a dress in the same blue, and one silk flower in that glorious mass of silvery hair. A curl had come loose and fell down onto her chest as she rushed to his side.

“Cyrus,” she panted. “I got your message.”

He slipped an arm around her and smiled. “Let’s sit for a moment so you can catch your breath.” He led her to an empty bench. “Did you run all the way here?”

“No,” she said, sucking in air. “I ran from the trap my Aunt Varelle had neatly laid for me.” She rolled her eyes. “Friends of hers. Who just happen to have an eligible son. A painter of some renown, apparently. But I’ve never heard of him, so he’s not that renowned.” She tugged her shawl closer. “In addition, he apparently found my...my person...appealing. Since he stared at it constantly.”

“How unnerving,” grinned Cyrus. “And such a lovely person, too.” He pushed her shawl aside and ran his fingers along the neck of her dress, just touching her skin.

She shivered, and sighed. “It’s different when it’s you,” she murmured.

“I know,” he answered quietly. “If you give me that idiot’s name I can have him killed for you.”

She blinked, then laughed. “Thank you for the offer, but I’d rather just forget the entire incident.”

“Wise,” he nodded. “Anyway, you’re here now. And there are things we must discuss. I found out a few things from a friend in the Gilded Lily today.”

“And I found out some things from my Uncle at his club today.” She glanced around and lowered her voice, leaning closer to him. “Cyrus, this is a public place. Do we want to discuss all this here?”

He breathed her in, relishing the scent of her, amazed at how her warmth seemed to burn through his jacket, his waistcoat, and his shirt.

“You’re right. No we don’t.” He stood and offered his hand, delighted when she took it without hesitation. “How do you feel about boats?”

“Boats?” Maelin tilted her head to one side as she looked at him. “They’re fine. I was at the Tidehold Conservatory for quite some time, if you recall. Boats were transportation. Everywhere. There were few other options.”

“So no concerns then?”

“Only if you ask me to sail one. Powerboats I can handle, but sails always befuddled me.”

He tucked her arm in his and began walking down the wharf. “That’s good to know. I think we do need privacy for our conversation.” He sighed. “This whole thing, Mae. It’s troubling, to say the least.”

“Has there been another killing?” She leaned close as she murmured the question near his ear.

“No,” he shook his head. “But I am afraid it won’t be long before there is. I just can’t...” He sighed. “This has to wait.”

“Uh, Cyrus? Where are we going?”

They had reached the far end of the wharf, where the lights were few, and the benches were empty.

“A little further.”

He steered her across the wharf now, to a set of steps she’d never have seen if she hadn’t been almost on top of them.