She could feel his tension in each muscle of his arm though. He wanted to physically put things to rights, pound a few skulls. She could understand the sentiment. But . . . “We’ll get it sorted, Caz. Bring to justice whoever killed Johnnie. But it won’t bring him back.”

“I know.” His fingers caught hers and squeezed, but it wasn’t her he was looking at. His gaze was toward Old Grimsby. “But if we can stop it from happening again . . .”

Her brows knit. “What do you mean?”

He sighed. “Perry and the Grimsby boys—well, Nick and Joseph, anyway. They’ve been chasing after whatever Johnnie was involved in.”

Mabena’s breath tangled in her throat. She had hoped they’d given that up by now, after they’d caught them at it on Teän. “Did you warn them off?”

“I’ve tried, but what could I say? I told them Johnnie slipped, like everyone else was saying. But Perry must have known he was up to something. And you know boys—the more you make something seem forbidden, the more determined they are.” He shook his head. “I won’t have any more of them getting hurt. I can’t.”

She touched a hand to his chest, over his heart. His shirt was still damp from the race, but she hardly cared. All that mattered was this man who put on such a front of disdain used it to cover a heart bigger than all the islands put together. “You’re a good man, Casek Wearne.”

His gaze flashed back to hers, and a grin winked out. “I’ve been telling you that all your life, Mabena Moon.”

“Well, it may be I believe you now.” She returned the grin and curled her hand into his shirt, using it to give him a tug off the path. The flowering trellis didn’t exactly hide them completely from any prying eyes peering out neighboring windows, but it would obscure them a bit, anyway. She stretched up on her toes.

It was all the invitation Casek needed. His arms came around her, hauling her up the remaining few inches until her feet dangled and her laugh at it was cut off by his lips claiming hers.

It shouldn’t make her soul take wing even now, should it? Johnnie Rosedew was dead, likely murdered, and the man responsible was after Beth . . . or Libby. Her cousins’ grandmother was still abed, Tas-gwyn had been clobbered as surely as she herself had been, and more lads could be in danger. There was nothing light about this situation. Nothing all that hopeful, even.