nod, the comb slipped from her hair and bounced across the floor. Pain burned deep in her knees as she knelt to pick it up. The rocky pavement had torn her stockings and gashed the skin. Hot tears flooded her vision as she groped around. Too many times that night she’d fumbled to keep things upright.
Blast that comb.
She heard rather than saw Barrett kneel in front of her. Brushing the hair from her face, he slipped the comb back in her ruined curls.
“You did a braw job tonight, darlin’. Those German lads sure as daylight didn’t expect the whipping you gave them.”
Kat buried her face in her hands as the tears broke free. “I ripped my stockings.”
Arms enveloped her, pulling her into a circle of warmth and strength. His stubbled cheek brushed her forehead as he tucked her head against his shoulder, gently circling his hands across her back. “It’s all right now. You’re safe.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, staunching the tears of weakness. What a time for emotions to take hold and throw her into the arms of a strange man. A man who smelled of wood, worn cotton, and night musk.
His palm smoothed up her back, curling around the back of her neck and tangling the hair behind her ears. Her breath held as his head dipped and his lips brushed her forehead. He slid closer to her mouth. Soft and warm, his caress dispelled the terror quaking in her bones. And ushered in a whole different kind of fear.
“Ugh.” Ellie moaned and swayed to sit up as her pale cheeks puffed out. She lurched off the coach and bent over a dead potted fern to empty her stomach.
Chapter 7
Barrett rolled the worn leather stick between his palms, the knotted ball on the end spinning in a blur. His head pounded like a beast and his jaw ached, but it wasn’t anything a cold beefsteak couldn’t put to rights. Too bad beefsteaks remained a dream of the past.
Then there were the things from the past that refused to go away. He’d kissed many women before without a second thought. Like taking a sip of water when he was thirsty. But Kathleen Whitford was like brandy. Fiery and smooth, burning down to toast his insides. And that had been her forehead. What would her actual lips do to him?
Frustration itched through his bones. Flipping the stick, he drummed the head against the worn kitchen table. Women.
“You found it.”
The stick tumbled from his fingers at Kat’s voice. He caught it before it hit the ground. “Aye. Next to the one with blood coming out of his ear. He’ll have a hard time hearing for a while if he’s not deaf already.”
Kat hovered in the kitchen doorway, hands knotted together in front of her stomach. Changed from her torn clothes of the night before, she wore a blue cotton dress with flowers that glided easily over her narrow waist and round hips. Her golden hair was gathered loosely at the back of her neck to fall in waves just past her shoulders. Much different from the elegant getups he’d seen her in before.
Hard to believe she’d taken on a patrol of Nazis a few hours before.
“Your housekeeper was kind enough to loan us a few items.” She ran a hand over the worn material. “It may take a few soakings to get the stains out of our clothes.”
“Mrs. Bonheur could coax a rock from a mountain, so your dress is in capable hands.” A clock above the ancient stove ticked several seconds. “Coffee?”
Not quite meeting his eye, Kat shook her head. “Tea?”
“Afraid not. All I have to offer is this sludge they call coffee. Toasted barley and chicory to fuel a man’s belly.” Lifting his mug, he gulped back the contents before he could taste it. The acrid smell, however, would linger in his nose for hours. “My man will make his rounds next week with better options.”
One of her slender eyebrows lifted at him. “‘Better options’ as in smuggled goods?”
“Le systѐme se débrouiller.”
Wryness twisted her mouth. “‘Getting by.’ Yes, I suppose that’s what we’re doing until this whole mess stops.” She shifted her weight and drew her fingers through the loose ends of her hair.
Tick. Tick. Tick. If the clock ticked any slower . . .
Searching for something to fill the awkwardness, Barrett held up the stick. “What is this?”
“A life preserver.” She moved into the room, circling around the table to stand next to the counter and far away