She had only Obscured with her father. But Mal successfully moved them both safely.
She looked up at him.
“Satisfied?” He said.
Maeve breathed deeply as Mal smirked down at her.
He extended his hand to her once more. She swallowed and took it. He jerked her towards him.
She collided with his chest with a quick gasp.
“What’s that tea shop in London you adore?” He asked. His free hand brushed her hair behind her ear and she was certain he could feel her heart slamming against his chest.
“Esmarelles? The one with the pink door?”
“That’s the one.”
“You’re certain you know where to go?”
Obscuring required certainty in your destination. They couldn’t just jump through space to some place they’d never been.
Mal nodded.
They twisted again, compressing together. The sensation lasted longer this time. Maeve gripped his arms tightly and tucked her head into his chest.
Solid ground appeared under her feet and Mal’s hands braced her sides as she tilted backwards. He released her gently as she leaned against the stone-walled alley way he dropped them in.
“This isn’t the tea shop,” she said.
“I have a quick stop I need to make,” he replied, taking a step towards her.
The alley was dark and abandoned. A main street was close by. She could hear the distant buzzing of people. Maeve lifted her head up to meet his gaze, tucking her hands behind her back.
His eyes traveled quickly to her lips.
“We’re late,” said Maeve quietly, a small smile at her lips. “Father expected us,” she flipped her wrist over and looked at the dainty ivory and gold watch, “thirty-three minutes ago.”
Mal was an inch from her. “They can’t know about me.”
Maeve nodded and smiled softly. “I know that.”
“Not even your father. Not yet. There is still too much at play.”
Maeve pushed off the wall and closed the gap between them. She couldn’t resist. She tentatively placed her hands on his chest. “When the time is right. Until then, you have my word.”
Mal held her there for a moment. His eyes locked on her lips.
“Can your father infiltrate minds as easily as you can?”
“No,” answered Maeve.
“Good,” said Mal. “Otherwise you’d be erasing my mind from the events this morning.”
“You don’t want him to know you framed a man for murder?”
Mal took her face between his hands. “I don’t want him to see the thoughts I have about his daughter.”
Maeve wobbled slightly, and her lips parted with a sharp exhale. Mal’s hand moved to her chin, gripping it between his thumb and forefinger. He pulled her to the tips of her toes, their noses nearly touching as he bent over her.
