The lines drawing Eric’s mouth flat softened. “All I want is for her to be happy, but she must realize that. Truly understand that without distractions telling her otherwise. I gave my word for one week of contemplation on the proposition, and I cannot go back on it.”
Ellie snorted. “That is the most ridiculous, selfish thing I’ve heard from you. And that’s saying a lot.”
His pale eyebrows spiked. “‘Selfish’? For wanting you to see the happiness I offer to you on a gilded platter? I’m trying to give you the world, but you slump in here as if life’s misery perches on your shoulder. Really, Eleanor. The least you could do is try for my sake. Wash your hair perhaps, cast off that robe you’ve no doubt worn since yesterday.”
“The day before, actually.”
Around the coffee table in a blink, he grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet. “That changes immediately. The green dress with the wide belt and matching shoes I bought you for Valentine’s. It’ll wipe away the sallowness from your cheeks.” He turned to Kat as he pushed Ellie toward the bedroom. “I had hoped you could take better care of her than this. Seems the job is best left with me.”
Kat pressed her palms against her sides to keep from scratching her nails down his face. If she angered him now, there was no telling what he would do. His power gave him infinite solutions. “Eric, please let her be. This has not been an easy day.”
Eric’s hand rose from Ellie’s arm and brushed a stray hair from her cheek. With exquisite tenderness, he tucked it safely behind her ear. Ellie jerked away, but Eric grasped her chin and held tight. “You need not concern yourself any longer. If you truly desire what’s best for all. And I do mean all, Kathleen.”
* * *
Brick crumbled beneath Barrett’s crushing grip as he peered around the side of the building. Several doors down, Kat leaned out of a window, arms braced on the ledge and pale face drawn tight. Five days and he hadn’t heard from or seen her. Five days of losing his mind. He should never have left her to enter that flat alone.
Jean, the watchman he’d placed on the block to keep an eye on the girls, had reported unusual activity around the building. More guards, only the servants coming and going, the window closed up, and Eric stopping by only twice when he was accustomed to visiting every day, often with overnight stays.
At first Barrett contributed Kat’s silence to their rather heated conversation on the bridge. But it had ended pleasantly enough, hadn’t it? She had said she was glad he was there. She had wanted to say more, something that was tinging her cheeks a rosy red with the mere thought, but she’d held back. Deep down in a place he forbade himself to venture, he had hoped she was glad to have him there as more than an ally.
“Papier, m’sieur?”
Barrett turned to the newspaper vendor behind him. The boy brandished a smudged copy of that morning’s paper. Barrett started to shake his head until he noted the hole in the kid’s shoe where his big toe stuck out. Rooting in his pocket, he fished out five francs.
The boy’s large eyes rounded. “Non, too much.”
Shrugging, Barrett pressed the bit into his grimy hand. “All I got, kid.”
No doubt fearing his benefactor would change his mind, the boy skipped on, and Barrett handed the newspaper to a man passing by. He’d read that morning’s headline and had no desire to go over the lying details that bragged of a German victory in Belgium.
Kat gazed over the tops of the buildings in the direction of the Stag. Was she imagining seeing it? His pulse kicked. Did she imagine seeing him? Her head whipped around to something behind her before swiveling back to the window. Her hands clenched. Whatever was going on behind her, it was taking an effort not to involve herself. Most likely Eric. Less than ten minutes inside and he was already causing problems. No surprise there. If there was a problem—and her face told him there were too many to count—why didn’t she tell him? Why didn’t she phone or send a letter? Surely one of those servants could have ferreted one out. Their families served in the Resistance faction of the 2nd arrondissement.
Curling her hands over the ledge, Kat turned in his direction. He inched