“Oui.” His eyes narrowed. “Pour quoi?”
Ella held out the miniature she’d been holding in her palm. She’d asked him if he’d been on the Madeline and he’d wanted to know why. “I am looking for this woman,” she said in French. “She is my sister.”
“Alors?
? She doesn’t look like your sister.” His lip curled in a sneer.
She tried not to wrinkle her nose again. This man made her skin crawl and she hated lying. Rather than do so she told the truth. “We have different mothers.”
His returning leer made her shiver in revulsion. “Of course you do.” He squinted at the picture. “She was on the boat with a man.”
She stepped closer, excitement bubbling inside. “Really? Did she look happy? Do you know where they went?”
“Seemed as happy as women seem to me.” He leaned closer, his hand snaking about her waist. “I could make you happy.”
She ignored his arm wrapped about her. “Where did they go?”
“I might be able to tell you if you give me a little taste.” He pulled her closer, crushing her body to his own. She turned her head just in time to avoid his lips on hers, but as she pushed against his chest to try and get away, she didn’t budge a tiny bit.
The quiet click of the hammer of a pistol stilled his roving hands. “Let her go.”
Pierre growled in response but slowly dropped the meaty fists that had been pawing at her. Matthew grabbed her hand and pulled her to his side.
“We should leave,” Matthew’s deep voice rumbled as he pulled her toward the door.
“I quite agree.” She held his hand tighter as they moved across the crowded room.
Pierre stood and followed. This time no one intervened. Matthew had dropped his pistol to his side, likely to keep from drawing attention to them as they made their escape.
They stepped out of The Kicking Horse, and her heart beat wildly in her chest. Matthew craned his neck, and spotting the carriage, began pulling her toward it. The door to The Kicking Horse swung open again and Ella looked back over her shoulder. Pierre stood in the pool of light from the open door.
“Wait,” he called. “She talked with several of the crew. One of them will know.” Without another word, he stepped back into the tavern.
Ella pulled at Matthew’s hand, clasping hers. “We can stop running.”
He swept her into his arms. “I know he stepped inside but we are returning to the inn post haste. I shan’t take you out at night like this again.”
As he climbed into the carriage, he settled her on his lap. Tucking her head into the crook of his neck, she closed her eyes. He was warm, hard, deliciously so, and she wanted to lose herself in this moment.
Forget what had just happened and how frightening the world could be. Forget what would happen tomorrow and the dinner she needed to attend. Just be here with Matthew. She was safe here, and he made her feel so wonderful. But that was impossible. They were no closer to finding his sister and she still hadn’t secured her future.
His hand softly cupped her cheek. “Are you all right?”
“Fine,” she whispered. What she wouldn’t give to kiss him again. She wouldn’t do it. Though it made her ache from longing, she would keep her lips firmly to herself.
Chapter Eight
Ella woke the next morning to a missive from Tricia. The dinner would happen as planned for that evening. She dressed quickly, a nervous knot forming in her stomach.
Once again, she found Matthew waiting for her to have a morning meal. “Did you sleep well?” he gave her a kind smile.
The truth was, she hadn’t. The fact that her lids would barely open professed as much. She kept replaying last night’s events through her mind. Her fear, the comfort she found in Matthew’s arms. But she had also played their dinner conversation over and over. They had so much in common, she understood his pain and his reluctance to give his heart. A father who didn’t love him. A woman who had betrayed him just as she had been betrayed. But despite that, he’d helped her when no one else had. “Quite well, thank you. And you?”
The dark circles under his warm brown eyes told her that he had not slept well either. “Very good.” He gave her a nod.
She knew why she’d lied. She’d almost revealed last night that she wanted more from him than friendship. Which would be foolish. The admittance would make it nearly impossible to continue being friends. And then they’d have nothing. And that was far worse than denying that she felt a great deal of affection for him. “How is your arm?”
“A bit sore but I’ll be all right. Have you recovered from your adventure last night?”