He didn’t see that. He saw a woman who refused to let any of it knock her down, and was so resolved in it she managed to spread it to those around her. Their second night here, Nadia had joined them for their early dinner. There’d been faint color in her cheeks, and a cautious warmth and intimacy had been obvious between her and Marshall. He thought of the fledglings, how they looked to Elisa for meaning in their lives. How Danny had been willing to go to extraordinary lengths for the girl. And he had to turn that mirror on himself as well. He’d third-marked her as if it was the most logical thing in the world, when he hadn’t been able to summon up a reason strong enough to do it to a human for over twelve decades.

She hadn’t pursued any of it intentionally or overtly. She merely followed her own unique code of decency and integrity. She would even deny she had much of a hand in the choices others had made, probably claiming they all had the strength of character to make those decisions themselves.

She was a gem. A gentle, beautiful girl who would always be underestimated because of that pretty, submissive soul she had, not an ounce of true rebellion in her. She wanted to please, to love, to serve . . . and the only thing that made her veer away from what someone wanted from her was that stubborn core that refused to allow her to do what she thought wasn’t right. When that happened, to her mind it wasn’t rebellion or defiance—she had to do what was right, because that was best for everyone, even when they didn’t believe it.

And a servant, above all else, looked out for those she served.

When the carousel stopped, he slid off the horse and helped her down the same way he’d helped her on, only this time he held on to her, pressing her against the horse’s side as he kissed her, threading his fingers through her hair, following the lines of her throat with his thumbs, a slow stroke up and back, taking his time with it. Often, he’d let demand surge up, take over, but this time he just enjoyed feeling it. The way her body slowly melted into that fit with his, her arms around his waist, palms skimming up his back and holding on.

“Oy, now, got to make room for the next mob,” the operator called out from the center of the carousel. “Take your pretty sheila off to the strongman contest and impress her with a stuffed bear, mate.”

When Mal turned his head to give the man a wry look, Elisa blinked and waved, a huge smile splitting her face. “How ya going, mate? What are you doing halfway round the world?”

The meaty, bald specimen of a man responded in kind, his wide grin creasing his face all over, showing a couple missing teeth. “Well, blimey charlie, what’d ya know? A pretty sheila on my carousel, in truth. I hail from Sydney. Don’t know what the hell I’m doing all the way over here among the Yanks. Gone wobbly, I expect. That your husband?” Then he snorted before she could answer. “Course not. No woman I know kisses her husband like that. Get on with you now and enjoy the fun, but come back round in a bit on my break. I’ll shout you a lemonade if you’ll tell an old bastard all about home.”

He’d squinted hard in their direction, showing that while his hearing was impeccable, his eyesight wasn’t as good. He’d been able to make out the embrace, but the difference in their races apparently hadn’t registered, not enough to bring him up short or stifle his teasing. Of course, in Elisa’s optimistic mind, Mal saw an entirely different logic. Like maybe he was one of the good sorts to whom it didn’t matter. She’d met men in the bush who liked Aboriginal women, and while they mostly had an entirely different opinion of a white woman being with a blackfella, he might be one of the rare ones who didn’t hold it against a sheila who stepped across those lines. He was working at a carnival after all, a world usually populated by those on the fringes of society at best.

So, choosing to believe that instead of impaired eyesight, she gave him another affectionate expression and a wave. Then she took Mal’s hand and let him lead her off the carousel so they could load a new group.

As she glanced over her shoulder at the man, Mal caught the wistful look. “You miss home a lot, don’t you?”

“Yes. And no.” She looked up at him. “Dealing with so many strange and new things, it’s exciting and exhilarating and all that, but sometimes I get lonely for what’s familiar. The comfort of people who’ve known me awhile, the things I’ve always known. But I’ve already started feeling at ease at your place, with Kohana and the rest. It’s just hard. Changing, that is. Isn’t it?”

He decided to keep his answer to a nod, knowing exactly how she felt. But then he couldn’t help himself for asking. “Am I one of the new and strange things?”

“Definitely. Particularly the strange part.” Then, remarkably, she pushed him off balance and took off in the crowd, laughing over her shoulder at him, daring him to give chase.

He caught up, of course, grabbed hold of her, but before he could decide on his retaliation, she seized his other hand and pointed. “Look. Bicycles.”

There were an array of colorful bicycles that could be rented for people to ride them on the beach and boardwalks. “See the red, shiny one? Isn’t that fine? There were boys who used them in Perth for deliveries and such, and I always thought they’d be so lovely to run errands, but I never learned how to ride one. No boy to take me out on a ride.” She gave him a telling smile. “Do you know how to ride one?”

“I do.” It amazed him that she didn’t, but she wouldn’t have had much opportunity for that kind of play, or even learning something so utilitarian, not when her days had been filled with cleaning, laundry and helping the housekeepers of her respective employers. “Would you like to learn now?”

“Wasn’t I being rather obvious about it?” At her impish look, he gave her a pinch on her bottom that had her gasping and pushing away from him with an amused but disapproving look. “You’re not supposed to do that in public.”

“You’re not supposed to sass your Master. Before the night’s over, you might need another of those spankings you claim not to like.”

Her lashes lowered in a suitably demure look that was pointless when he saw the eagerness in her mind, hot visions that made him want to do exactly that, right now. But he curbed the impulse, because he really did want to give her this. There were two sides to her euphoria tonight. Part of her was celebrating their success at Marshall’s, but the other was staving off the knowledge she would soon have to let two of her fledglings go, trusting their lives to another. For her—for any parent—he expected it was an altogether terrifying thought.

He paid for a two-hour rental, boosted her on the handlebars and took them off to a quieter part of the causeway, a concrete canal area that gave them enough room to do what he intended. She enjoyed the ride, holding on to his hands on the bars, stretching out her legs and leaning back into the crook of his shoulder, the sea breeze caressing her face. She was laughing, trying to keep her skirt properly tucked in so the wind wouldn’t ruck it up, and when she turned her face into his jaw, her lips touched his throat, a provocative tease, more so because of its innocence. She was really, truly irresistible. He wondered if even Danny had ever seen this side of her. It was the first time he’d seen her wholly free of all her responsibilities, the young girl she actually was shining through in full, springlike force, infecting everyone they passed with smiles.

When they reached the canal area, he stopped the bike, letting her slide off the bars, and then patted the seat. “Your turn. If you do well, you can ferry me around on the handlebars.”

“Thank goodness I have a third-mark’s strength.” She grinned and straddled the seat, tucking her skirt beneath her. Her sundress was close-fitting and came modestly above the knee when she sat, so there’d be no danger of it rippling into the spokes. “All right, so I just put my feet on these pedals and push, right?”

“Right. But balance is the trick to riding a bike. It’s like when you balance on a fence and have to keep your weight centered. I’m going to hold on to the back as you get it. Keep the handlebars straight. I won’t let you fall, so don’t worry about that. That’s usually what makes it hard at first, a fear of falling.”

“Oh, I’ve fallen plenty of times. That doesn’t bother me. You just get up, dust yourself off and keep going.” Catching her bottom lip in her teeth, she put her feet on the pedals. It took a few tries, but then she was going, and he was moving with her, keeping the bike steady as the handlebars wobbled back and forth and she got the way of it. A couple of times the front wheel turned abruptly, but he was able to reach forward and steady it, trotting along beside her, letting go when she seemed to have it in hand again.

“I think I’ve got it,” she said at length, after they’d made several long passes up and down the area. Pausing, she put one foot on the ground to brace the bike. The canal had taken them into a tunnel, illuminated dimly by the streetlights outside of it, but with their enhanced sight, neither really needed them. She studied the graffiti painted along the inside walls. There were the expected curse words, but also protestations of love, a religious emblem or two, and artwork, done in broad colors and strokes.

“Look.” Elisa pointed. A lion, in bright yellow with a bristling orange mane, had his mouth open wide, fangs showing. Swirled around him in red letters was the motto, “I am Lion. Hear me roar.” His tail was threaded through the O in roar.

“Can you imagine one of your lions roaring in here? The echoes would knock us down.”

“Do you miss my island?”

When she lifted her long lashes to him, her eyes thoughtful, he wasn’t sure why the answer was so important, such that he didn’t look for it in her mind, or question what it was about her expression that held him so still.

“Yes. Very much. More than I expected. I like being there, as I said. I mean, as long as you want me there.” She amended that with a nervous little smile, and this time he did look for the thought. Her life had always been transient. She was telling herself that she knew better than to consider any place a permanent home. He still wouldn’t let her quarter with the staff, after all.