figure, but could he so easily betray daughterly trust in favor of social standing? Was she so blind to it all?
“I’m the only one she’ll listen to,” Kat said. “If she ever glimpsed my father, she’d be on the first train to Berlin simply to spite him. Ellie’s always been childish that way, but deep down she has a tender heart. She just needs someone to properly care for it.”
“Like you?”
The corners of her mouth tugged up. “I was thinking a man, but yes, me too.”
He shifted, catching his reflection in the window. “You don’t want to hear this—bah, I don’t even want to say it—but Eric cares for her in his own twisted way.”
“I know. I think . . .” The knot clenched around her lungs, squeezing out a hiss of air. “I think he wants to . . . make plans with her.”
“You mean marry.”
Yes stuck in her throat like a thorn. She nodded.
“Intelligence would love that, with all the information they could get, but what a diplomatic mess. Can’t imagine how the foreign secretary would handle it.”
Her head whipped back to face him. Anger quaked down to her toes. “Is that what this is about? Gaining unprecedented access for Parliament? And when it’s all over they mean to forget my sister like a worn-out shoe and trample my family’s name in the mud? You right along with them, eh?”
He shot to the edge of his seat, hands braced on either side of him. “Don’t you dare lump me in there with those cold ba—warmongers. I’m here to help you.”
“At what price?”
He reared back as if she’d slapped him. “I’ve my own reasons, as do you. Let’s stop there.”
“Fine by me.”
“Good.” Grabbing his hat, he surged to his feet. “I’m going for some air. Don’t get into trouble while I’m gone.”
“Don’t trip and fall off.”
Crossing her arms, she slumped back in her seat. Her elation at seeing him had soured faster than a glass of milk in the sun. If only the Nazis could see them now. Not so golden a couple after all. That’s what she got for dancing too close to the line of possibilities. No more. She’d come here to take Ellie back—willingly or not—and that’s exactly what she would do. No more distractions. Not even ones with deep-blue eyes, a smile charming enough to tempt a saint, and arms that held her as if no other woman in the world existed.
She dug her fingers into her arm, vanquishing the memory of his touch. He was impossible. They had nothing in common, they had opposite views on just about everything, and her father would certainly never approve, because he hadn’t handpicked Barrett himself.
Her hands dropped to her lap to flick over the water print of yellow daisies across her knee.
Trying to please everyone but myself. Like a bullet, his words pierced her. He was right, and that truth was enough to rip her carefully poised thoughts in two. Why did he have to be right? Why did he have to know what he was doing in almost every situation? Why couldn’t they have assigned her someone short and fat who smelled like onions? The yellow daisies bunched in her fist. And why, oh, why, whenever a German walked by, did she wonder if Barrett was going to kiss her?
As if her thoughts had called him back, Barrett fell into the seat next to her, chest heaving and eyes intense. “Adore me.”
She snorted and rolled her eyes back to the window. “I’d rather not.”
“There are two Germans coming behind me whom I may or may not have hit with my suitcase when I tossed it on board.”
“Oh, Barrett.”
“Save the lecture. Right now I need you to act like you can’t keep your hands off me and maybe they’ll keep walking.”
Kat glanced over the top of the seat. Dread plunked in her stomach as the soldiers stopped by each seat to glare into the faces before moving further up the aisle. She slapped a hand to Barrett’s cheek, covering the side of his face from view, and drew him close. “If we come out of this alive, you owe me.”
His lips brushed her ear. “Keeping score isn’t a good idea in this game.”
“Not afraid of losing, are you?”
“Losing to a woman isn’t really losing in my book. Ow!”
“Oh, so sorry.” She uncurled her nails from where they’d crimped his ear. Two seats away, the Germans barked at a young Frenchman. Dread bowled up her chest. “How hard