fear. Each step he took threatened to be his last, but the grim knowledge never seemed to cripple him. Never had she witnessed someone bear such an enormous responsibility with such strength and true grit.
His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, as if the glowing sun overhead had lulled him to sleep. His rolled-up shirtsleeves revealed tan forearms with long, defined muscles stretching the entire length. The always-on-guard cut of his jaw smoothed into relaxation, and long black lashes rested gently on his cheeks. The pinch in her lungs eased, but the air still caught in her throat.
“Like what you see?”
Kat jumped, creaking the chair beneath her. Heat burned her face as if the sun itself had scorched her. “You had a bee buzzing around your head.”
“You’ll have to let me return the favor sometime.” One blue eye cracked open. “And I don’t mean the bee.”
She smoothed a hand over her skirt. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“Aye, you do.”
Her heart skipped as both of his deep-blue eyes pinned her to the chair. Yes, she knew. All too well. Deep down in the scarred places of her heart, she longed to have a man near to admire her, to whisper tender things with the promise to fulfill them. But promises were broken much too easy, betraying her to pain unimaginable. She couldn’t bear the same loss from him.
Heels clacked across the concrete patio behind them, quickly followed by the dull thumping of boots. Without needing to turn around, Kat’s heart sank.
Ellie flung her arms around Kat’s neck and squealed. “Everything’s all right now. I’ll tell you all about it later.” Jumping back, Ellie grabbed Eric’s hand and pulled him into view. “Come on, darling. Don’t be shy.”
For his part, Eric had the decency to look uncertain of his presence. He held tight to Ellie’s hand. “I must apologize for our last meeting in Paris. It was not how I wished the evening to go, and certainly my actions were unforgiveable in the presence of ladies.” He glanced down for reassurance from Ellie before turning a more intense gaze to Barrett. “Any damages your business incurred because of the incident will be seen to immediately at no cost to you.”
Incident? He dared to call killing an innocent man a mere incident? Kat balled her fingernails into her palms while Ellie’s eyes shimmered with forgiveness and heartache.
“Thank you,” Barrett said. “Not much damage beyond a stain on the floor. Took two of my washers an entire day, but they got it scrubbed out.”
Kat made a small, sickened noise in her throat. Barrett grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Thanks for inviting me. Nice to have another man to help balance out these ladies.”
“I knew it would make Eleanor happy to have both of you here.” Eric laced his fingers through Ellie’s. “Besides, I’d never leave you alone for too long.”
Though said with a smile, the words hung in the air like a low, dark cloud that crackled with lightning. A storm was brewing. Time would tell if they would make safety before it hit or get caught in the downpour.
Ellie broke the tension. “Let’s go swimming tomorrow. Eric, didn’t you say there was a lake around here?”
Eric nodded and pointed north. “Lake Königssee is about six kilometers that way. The clearest waters in all of Germany.”
“We can have a picnic. Won’t that be heavenly?”
Doubt niggled his fair eyebrows. “We have an invitation for tea tomorrow at the Berghof.”
Kat swallowed a groan. If the gallows stretched before them, she wanted the memory of a perfect day as she faced the executioner. Hitler himself. “With tea in the afternoon, that gives us plenty of time to swim and lounge in the sun beforehand.”
“Can’t all be work and no fun.” Barrett’s fingers laced through hers, warm and reassuring. “You promised to show us a good time.”
Certainty slid across Eric’s face, smoothing his brow. “Ja. An unforgettable time awaits you, meine freundes.”
* * *
Kat pressed a hand to her roiling stomach. Don’t get sick. Don’t get sick on Hitler’s living-room floor.
Worry creased Barrett’s brow as he reached over to rub her back. “How’re you feeling, poppy?”
“Nauseated.”
“Not surprising considering our whereabouts.” He scrutinized a Bordone painting of Venus and Amor. Bewilderment flitted across his face. “Never understood the appeal of painting naked bairns.”
“It’s a favorite painting style of sixteenth-century Venice.”
“Well, it’s not my favorite.”
“Try the Panninis. They’re a little more manly with their ruins of Rome.” She moved to the fireplace. The red marble