Riveted by Meljean Brook Page A

he’d only lost his legs, an arm, and part of an eye. Others hadn’t been as lucky.
    Di Fiore had survived, but David had never thought the man was fortunate. He’d read the newssheets following the trial; by all accounts, grief and horror had broken the man.
    “I didn’t realize that he’d been released from the insanitarium.”
    “About five years ago. Of course the newssheets reported on it, but I believe you were in Aztlán. You heard nothing of it?”
    “No.”
    But he wouldn’t have. He’d been away for almost a year during that time. Who would have mentioned it to him when he returned? His colleagues would have either assumed he already knew, or refrained from talking about it out of courtesy. Knowing now, how did he feel about the man’s release?
    Nothing.
He’d thought anger would fill him, but there was none. Only mild curiosity. “Di Fiore’s man…is he on the crew?”
    “A passenger. I only know because Captain Vashon asked whether the reminder would be too painful. She would have arranged passage for him and his laborers aboard another ship.”
    Ah. So Komlan was di Fiore’s man—and they were apparently building a locomotive railway in Iceland. Perhaps the man hadn’t fully regained his sanity, after all.
    He squeezed her hands. “I won’t think anything of it. And you?”
    “No.” She exhaled a long, shuddering breath. “It
is
painful. Not to have him aboard, but to see…to
know
how it all changes with hardly more than a blink. Oh, David. Do you know I have not stepped foot off this airship in three years? Because every time I go down, I see less and less of the world I shared with your uncle, and feel everything from that time slipping away.”
    Then David had arrived at her door and brought the change to her. He couldn’t be sorry for coming—and knew she wasn’t, either—but he could be sorry that it hurt her.
    “Oh, I’m a foolish old woman.” She laughed through her tears when he shook his head. “Yes.”
    He held on to her trembling hands. “You’re not.”
    Almost everything from that time
had
slipped away—and they were left to cling to what they could…or hunt down the remains.
    When she nodded and smiled at him again, he gave her fingers another squeeze and leaned back. She wiped her cheeks, then lifted the watch at her breast.
    “Oh, now look. You’ll barely have an extra moment to ready for dinner.”
    David glanced down at his jacket and trousers. They were rough, but the best he had with him. “I’m ready.”
    “No, my dear. That was my polite way of shoving you through the door so that I can repair the damage that all of this weeping has done to my face.”
    Laughing, he stood. “You’re still beautiful.”
    “And you’re forgiven for lying.”
    She turned her cheek for his kiss, which he happily bestowed. At the door, however, he couldn’t help himself. Hat in hand, he faced her.
    “I spoke with another passenger on the docks, but I forgot to ask her name. Have you met any of the others aboard?”
    “A woman, David?”
    He heard the laugh in her voice. “Yes. Young, vibrant.”
    “Beautiful?”
    Rather pretty, but with such lively expressions that her features appealed to him far more than any beauty’s. “Yes.”
    Lucia nodded. “There is one such young woman aboard. She’s bound for Heimaey, in the Vestmann Islands.”
    She spoke the name as if it should have some import, but David didn’t recognize it. “Heimaey?”
    “Hymen Island.”
    “Ah.” Heat filled his cheeks. The island off the south coast of Iceland was inhabited only by women, and was where some Catholic families sent their unmanageable daughters, keeping them pure for advantageous marriages. Rumor was, however, that the womenwere simply left there—and since no men were allowed to set foot on the island, distasteful stories of virgin cults and women who would steal a man’s virility had begun to spread. “Her family requested that she be taken to the