The settlement at Stanley Falls was rough, a village full of men fed on greed and sex and sin, and here Owen was, marching Vera into the center of it all.

Not that she cared one bit. She hummed behind him, seemingly enjoying the few shocked looks garnered at for her strutting into town in a pair of men’s trousers.

“I’m dreaming of a proper meal,” she said, coming up beside him. Owen wanted to kiss that pert nose of hers. “A giant, heaping plate of something delicious.” Her eyes sparkled. “I don’t know how you manage it here.”

He shrugged, keeping his hands at his side like a gentlemen. For all the desire bubbling up inside of him, it was the regret that was turning his stomach. He was about to break something—no, that was his training—someone he cared for into pieces.

Carts and horses ambled by, the settlement busy because of the mines nearby. The few shops and boarding houses lined the dusty street.

“Over here,” he said, pointing toward a whitewashed house, nearly towering over the rest of the street. “Mrs. Miller’s is the perfect place to call it a day. We’ll get you a proper bed, meal, and even a bath.”

Vera’s eyes widened. “Now you’re just spoiling me.”

No, Owen thought, he was just trying to make the next few hours enjoyable before broke her heart.

The bath was heaven. Vera stood from the bath, stepping out and reaching for a towel. She studied herself in the mirror, no longer finding the girl who had ventured to Africa by herself. She’d become a woman she didn’t recognize, one in love with a man that overshadowed her. She would fight for her chance in the light with him. Surely, they could have a happy ending if only he would let her close.

The door opened and she pulled the towel around her, turning to face Owen as he entered. He flashed her a brief smile, then strode to the window by the bed.

“What’s wrong?”

He waved her off, searching the room for something, before surprising her with a box that contained a new dress.

“I thought...” she trailed off, blushing. “That is if you’re willing...we could…”

Owen looked to the ceiling, tossing his head back, and raking his hand through his hair. “My God, woman.”

“Or least you can enjoy a bath? Come, you must be ready to fall asleep standing up.” She walked closer, her arms outstretched. The teasing dropped from her voice, then her smile as he looked down and met her stare. “What’s wrong?”

He sighed, withdrawing a slip of paper from his shirt pocket. He opened his mouth to say something, then shut it, handing the paper to her instead.

The room grew cold, sweeping in like a late winter’s storm. She stumbled, dropping the paper, then her towel. She bent down, naked to him and the world as she straightened. “This is a ticket to England, Owen. Leaving tomorrow.”

“That’s right.”

“But we’ve discussed this. I’m not returning to England just yet. I’m going with you. We’re following the map of my brother’s. We’re going to get answers.”

“I’m going to get answers,” he corrected. “I’m going to get answers and I’ll write you with what I find. It’s time for you to leave Africa. It’s time for you to return home.”

She scrambled to get the towel around her again, desperate for some sort of armor, anything to defend herself from the cold, lifeless eyes of Owen staring back at her now. “I don’t understand. We are on our way now. We’re nearly there, aren’t we?”

He cast his eyes to the floor. “We were never on the way whatever lays in the center of that map. I’ve been guiding us to town from the start.”

Vera rushed up, striking her hand against his chest, overwhelmed by the smell of spirits on his breath. “You bastard. The whole time? The whole time!”

He grabbed both of her wrists, his grasp gentle. “Yes, love. From the start. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

She felt as if she could kick and scream, claw his eyes out even. Anger swelled inside her and all she ended up doing was crying like some windward maiden, adrift after being tossed aside. But isn’t that what happened? She had given him everything. And again, he was leaving her.

“I never want to see you again, Owen MacKenna. Do you understand?”

“I never promised you anything I couldn’t give, lass. Let’s be fair.”

She rushed up to him again, pounding her fists against his hard chest. “I hate you. Oh, how I hate you.”

He held her tight, refusing to let go as she broke into sobs. “I know. I deserve it.”

“All this time I was foolish enough to believe there was a chance.”

“A chance of what?”

“That I mean something to you. Tell me you love me at least. Tell me something I can hold on to, Owen.”

He gently pushed her aside, avoiding her eyes as he said, “You can’t a love man like me, lass, without being left. It’s what must happen.”

And she thought there was so much more that could happen. Like the two of them getting married, maybe while they were traveling. Like having a few children who were just as wild and sarcastic as Owen. She thought, however foolishly, she had found happiness in life.

The door shut behind him, and Owen was gone.

And Vera was left with nothing but a broken heart.

Vera sat at the table of boarders at Mrs. Millers, staring hopelessly into her soup. She knew better, she knew and yet she was foolish enough to let Owen MacKenna back into her heart. And now she sat searching her soup as if it held the answers to her life’s problems.

After enduring an hour of dinner with travelers from the world over, she discovered one thing—nothing held the answers except for the glass of wine that kept getting refilled with general ease. Which probably accounted for why the heat of the dining room was making her faint. And how the room’s edges were becoming blurred.

A man approached, filling the doorway in the same casual way a handsome scoundrel she knew had a habit of doing. But alas, he didn’t look anything like her Owen. Ha, her Owen! He had never been hers. He had been a schoolgirl crush and then nothing better than a handsome cad.

Her stomach growled as she took a sip of water, nodding along to a conversation about her shipwreck. Seemed she had gained some notability after surviving such a disaster. They all certainly treated her as if she were a queen, lavishing her with food and drink. She was never the glutton, but she wasn’t above drowning her sorrows, even if it were a bit morose. How did one even recover from heartbreak? There must be some time allowed before one was expected to partake in life wholly once again.

The first time she had lost herself in her studies. This time? Well, the pain was too fresh to tell, but with the added loss of Tom, Vera was certain it would take quite a lot to recover.

Why had she ever thought she was worthy enough of his attention? Owen MacKenna—the famous engineer and daring adventurer! What future could they ever share when she was a dedicated scholar and suffragette? Her future belonged in rented room at the women’s college, there along with her cat and plenty of books. Books never broke her heart. They provided comfort. A man broke her heart.

“What’s that, Miss Attwater?”

Vera turned, facing a man who looked vaguely familiar. “Hmm?”

“Was something funny? You were chuckling.”

She waved him off, taking another sip of wine, adjusting herself in her seat. It seemed her new dress made sitting in one’s seat rather difficult. Or perhaps it was the chair.

“How long will you be traveling in the country?” the man asked. He reached across the table, pouring her another glass of water.

“Oh, I’m quite finished,” she said. She was so neatly delivered at port just short of being dragged onto the steamer itself. “Leaving tomorrow.” Owen only had the courage to tell her about her change of travel plans when she was naked and in shock. He didn’t have the heart to tell her when she could have countered back, as she should have. What a wasted moment, to sit there and let him walk out on her. She wasn’t a wilted flower. She had more backbone then to let the man announce she was going back to England and let that be that.

Hmph.

Expect she was doing exactly that.

The room warped around her, bowing around the edges, distorting the faces of the fellow dinners. Perhaps it was just the shock. Or the heat. It was rather hot in the room. Or maybe it was the wine. She should have stopped two glasses ago. It wasn’t ladylike to be so well into her cups, but alas...

“Please excuse me,” she announced, pulling her seat back. She attempted to stand, then grasped onto the table. The lace tablecloth flew forward in her grip, whisking away the fine crystal glasses and chine plates of the other guests. “Oh, pardon me.”

“Would you like help, Miss Attwater?” the man asked at her side.

“No, thank you,” she said, dragging her foot forward to take a step. Everything felt so heavy. Her eyes felt so...

Tired. She was so very tired.

Her head held a savage beat, unrelenting. It was difficult to move, more so to even open her eyes, but she heard voices around her. Strange voices.

“He said she had it. We heard him talking about it in the tavern. Why is it not here?”

“Keep looking,” another voice answered back in a clipped tone. “She’ll be coming around soon.”

Vera tried to answer, but her tongue felt as though it were made of cotton.

“He’s going to be right livid. She’s escaped too many times and now that we have her, nothing.”

“I know why. I told you he wasn’t to be trusted. We should have shot them when we had the chance.”

Her heart picked up its beat in her chest. And suddenly her desire to move turned to a desire to remain still, to pretend she was still asleep.

“What are we going to do with her?”

“Nothing. She’s booked passage on the ship leaving in the morning. She’s not the problem anymore. He is.”

He is. He is? Owen!

The floor vibrated as boot steps approached. Vera held her breath, willing her body to remain still. “She’s a pretty thing, isn’t she? Doesn’t take after that brother of hers.”

“Don’t touch her,” the other snapped. “Let’s go. She’s going to wake up soon. She didn’t finish the whole dose.”

A hand grabbed her boot. “Shouldn’t we make sure she won’t remember?”

Vera swallowed, hoping they didn’t notice.

“She’s making that ship in the morning. If we knock her out, she might not make it. Then we’ll be in a host of trouble.”

The hand let go, then the footsteps retreated. The door closed and for a few minutes, Vera remained in the dark, motionless if the strangers returned. Carefully, she opened her eyes, then wiggled her fingers and toes. Everything felt as if it were filled with lead. But it wouldn’t do to remain slumped against the wall in her room. They didn’t even have the decency to place her on the bed. She was just tossed in the corner.

She got up and lit the gas lamp, placing a chair underneath her door so it wouldn’t open. The furniture was knocked about, her bed unmade. Even the few belongings she had were strewn across the room.

They’d been after the map, but they hadn’t looked under the mattress, the bed was still perfectly made. That hadn’t stopped Owen though, because it was gone from where she hid it.