“‘Worn’ being a polite way of saying ‘haggard’?”

He caught my hand with a laugh and raised it to his lips, kissing each of my fingers. Delight shimmered through me, though it was definitely a pale imitation of the usually fierce wave. Tiredness, it seemed, was also affecting my libido.

And that was a shocking state of affairs needing to be remedied as soon as possible.

“There was a lovely-looking pub a kilometer or so down the road,” he continued. “Why don’t grab a meal and something to drink there?”

“Sounds like a plan. And if we get to Killiney and she’s not there, we can find somewhere to stay the night. I need to fortify myself before I tackle that ferry trip again.”

His grip tightened lightly on my fingers, then he tugged me closer and kissed me, long and lingering. I sighed regretfully when his lips left mine, and he chuckled softly. “I know, but now is neither the time nor the place.”

“We should have stolen a larger van.”

He laughed again, turned the van around, and headed back down the road.

Luckily, our arrival at the pub coincided with the beginning of the evening dinner service. We both ordered steak and veg, a side of chips to share, and strong coffees. As much as I would have liked a pot of tea, I need the extra shot of caffeine to keep me awake.

I did feel marginally better with good food in my belly, but the tiredness hadn’t really eased. The rain had swept back in while we were in the pub, and it made the night—and the road conditions—pretty horrid.

Not that I saw a whole lot of it, because I snoozed most of the way there, waking only when the van stopped.

I yawned and then said, “We there?”

“We certainly are, sleeping beauty. It’s the end terrace across the road.”

I leaned forward to look past him. Though it was very hard to see anything clearly thanks to the ferociousness of the rainstorm, it looked to be a small, single-story, semidetached cottage. There was no car in the driveway, though there were plenty parked along the narrow street. Unfortunately, I had no idea what sort of car Vincentia was driving these days.

Cynwrig glanced at me. “Can’t see any light peeking out from under the curtains.”

“I can barely even see the front yard, and the streetlight is directly above it.” I wrinkled my nose. “How good are you at breaking and entering?”

“I’m offended you even asked that question.”

I laughed. “Sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” His tone was amused. “There’s no evidence of a physical alarm system, but there could be magical.”

He was obviously seeing the cottage a whole lot more clearly than me, but then, dark elves generally had excellent night sight.

“It might be an idea if we loop back around and park further down the road,” I said. “That way, we can approach the back of the house from the park and not alert the neighbors.”