Stealing Mercy Read Online Free PDF

brunette with violet eyes, in Chicago at age twenty-two Eloise would have been placed on the shelf, but in female starved Seattle, she was a decidedly top shelf commodity. Angling her dark curly head at the stream of men disembarking from the US Maypole, she murmured, “Tall ones, short ones, fat ones, skinny ones…why did I ever hesitate?”
    The ship unloaded a flow of men onto the gangplank while gulls wheeled overhead. The sun smiled on the crowd and the air held a circus quality-- so many people, coming and going, jostling in the excitement of a new place filled with fresh opportunities.
    “Maybe because in Chicago you had a lovely home and people who loved you,” Mercy said.
    “But there are so many more to love here.” Eloise scanned the crowded pier. Not all of the male specimens could meet Eloise’s approval. Some looked green and unsteady as they tried to navigate the crowded boardwalks on their reclaimed land legs.
    Mercy ran her hands over her skirt, again acknowledging and giving thanks for her aunt’s generosity. Because she’d spent most of the trip from New York around the cape hungry, she’d arrived looking like a scarecrow in her father’s too big clothes, but her Aunt Tilly, who loved company and food, kept an overflowing kitchen and manned a sewing machine. Even though Tilly hadn’t even known Mercy, she’d extended love, food and a mushrooming wardrobe. In return, Mercy worked in her aunt’s shop.
    Mercy hugged the parcel of linens and buttons to her chest and let her gaze follow Eloise’s. Tall ones, skinny ones, rich ones, poor ones… Mercy knew Eloise would meet and entertain most. “Come,” Mercy urged, slipping her arm around Eloise’s waist. “You can pick out your favorite at the Seafarer’s Ball.”
    Eloise shuffled her feet, reminding Mercy of the tiny dog that lived across the street from Aunt Tilly’s house: riotous hair, sharp features, perky bounce and a dislike for being leashed.
    “They probably don’t even know about the ball.” Eloise stuck out her lower lip, a habit that men seemed to unable to resist, but had little effect on Mercy.
    “Then you can meet them when they come into the Penny Store.”
    “No. Miles just scares them away.” Eloise sighed, obviously thinking of her hawk-eyed brother. Eloise flirted, fell passionately in love, and then moved on in a continuous circle of conquests, much to her brother’s chagrin. Eloises’ breath caught, her eyes widened and she cocked her head. “I pick that one.”
    Mercy took in the scene: legions of men teeming the sidewalks, heading in all directions, ships tied to the gray and weathered docks, horses, coaches and wagons splattering through the muddy streets. Then her gaze caught Eloise’s latest choice. He wove through the crowd, his head and shoulders above the others. The raven hair, the arctic blue eyes, tight tan breeches, tall leather boots, white shirt undone at the collar--he looked as handsome in Seattle as he had in New York.
    And just as dangerous.
     

CHAPTER 5
     
    Lavender slows an over active imagination, improves sleep quality, promotes relaxation, and lifts the mood of those suffering with nightmares.
    From The Recipes of Mercy Faye
     
    “He’s like a dream come true,” Eloise whispered.
    A nightmare . Mercy’s skin felt like ice, and she tightened her hold on Eloise’s waist. “He looks mean,” she said through tight lips. Had he followed her? Would he seek revenge or retribution? Could she avoid him? Had her staged suicide fooled anyone? Mercy clutched the packages to her chest and held her breath. She could feel her blood spinning. Thoughts and fears whirled through her, but none settled long enough to be coherent or rational. She had to remind herself to breathe.
    Eloise turned, her dimples fading. “We can’t be seeing the same person. The dark-haired --”
    “I see him,” Mercy interrupted, surprised that her voice could sound so steady and sane when her mind was so jumbled