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amidst the cacophonous din rising up like a fist from the docks, Catullus found himself aware of only her. The brilliant gleam of her eyes, alive with intelligence and humor and will. A quick, potent flare of desire answered within him. More than desire. Something else, something deeper than a body’s wants. And, in the way she suddenly drew herself up, widening those astonishing eyes, she felt it as well.
    “Haunted still by your redheaded ghost,” Astrid said behind him, her voice hard with suspicion.
    Catullus came back to himself, who and where he was. He broke from Gemma Murphy’s gaze to watch the dock.
    “No amount of silence on my part will exorcise her,” he said.
    “Determined,” Lesperance noted, admiring. Astrid shot him a glare.
    Catullus made himself shrug with indifference. “We’ll lose her once we come ashore.”
    “I wouldn’t be so sure,” said Astrid. “That bloody girl’s resolved to attach herself to us—or rather to
you.”
    He scrupulously avoided looking at Astrid and her sharpeyes. “I’m the unattached male in our party. For a woman like her, I present the easiest target.”
    “For a huntress, she’s damned fond of her prey,” Astrid replied, heated.
    The ship finally docking gave Catullus a reprieve. He, Astrid, and Lesperance joined the chattering, excited passengers as they disembarked. Somewhere in the crowd behind him was Gemma Murphy. But ahead of him was the most important mission of his life. He would forget her, as he must.
    A few satchels made up their minimal luggage. As soon as it was collected, they started toward the train station. Everywhere was thick with people and voices and heavy drays loaded with cargo. The cheerful chaos of commerce.
    Which made for hard going to reach the station on foot. It wasn’t far, a quarter mile, and hiring a cab was impossible in this bedlam. Yet each step found the trio buffeted by movement. At this rate, they would reach the station by nightfall.
    “Bugger this,” Catullus muttered under his breath. He signaled Astrid and Lesperance to a narrow side street off the busy dock, blissfully empty.
    They both nodded. It might not be a direct route to the station, but they’d reach their destination faster. And, in these circumstances, time was all. They had to reach Southampton as soon as possible.
    So the three of them ducked into the side street. The only occupants were a few crates and a dog. The dog noticed Lesperance and trotted forward to him, tail wagging. Lesperance gave the animal a good scratch under the chin before striding briskly onward. The dog scampered away, cheerful in its existence.
    “Always making friends,” Astrid murmured.
    “They
aren’t friends,” Catullus said. He stared ahead, where the large figures of three men swiftly blocked the narrowstreet. He, Astrid, and Lesperance stopped, tensing. The men loomed nearer. All of them held knives. “Heirs,” growled Lesperance.
    “No—they won’t get their hands dirty here,” Catullus said. “Thugs hired by the Heirs to watch the docks. Should have expected this.”
    He started to reach for his revolver before checking himself. This was civilized England, where men didn’t wear guns in the streets, including himself. His pistol and shotgun were both packed away in the bags he carried. And, even if he could get to them quickly, firearms were too conspicuous, too noisy, too problematic for close-quarters fighting.
    Evasion was a better option than engagement. Only fools raced into battle, if it could be avoided.
    Catullus turned, thinking to lead Astrid and Lesperance back to the main dock. They might have a chance to lose their pursuers in the throng.
    He cursed as two more men blocked the other end of the street. One of them pulled a cudgel from beneath his heavy coat, and the other, smiling brutally, brandished a dockworker’s hook.
    “Hardly ten minutes ashore, and already in a fight.” But Astrid smiled coldly as she spoke, shifting into a ready