Stealing Mercy Read Online Free PDF Page B

with nerves. “The one with black cape. He just kicked that dog.” Could she confide in Eloise? No. Mr. Steele needed to believe that Mercy had died, and Eloise had a mouth as big as her kind heart. She didn’t trust Eloise with her secret. Mercy took Eloise’s arm and tried to propel her down the street in the opposite direction.
    Eloise shook off Mercy’s hand. “He did not.”
    “Yes, see that hound cowering under the hay wagon? That man kicked him.”
    “Oh please, you’re fibbing because you want him for yourself.”
    Mercy gripped Eloise’s arm firmly, as Steele weaved their way through the gangplank crowd. “Do you mind if we step in here?” Mercy nodded at the nearest shop and looked in the window at the display of goods. “I just remembered Aunt needs soap.”
    “But he’s coming our way.”
    “I need your help deciding. Please, just come in for a moment.”
    Eloise scowled. “You never need my help, especially with soap.”
    “But, you always smell so nice, and Aunt… well--” Mercy’s mind twirled. Every minute brought Steele one step closer. “I’ll just pop in, will you wait for me?” Mercy tried to will her friend safety and common sense. “It might take a while. Promise you’ll stay right here?”
    “How long can it take to pick out soap?”
    “Promise me you’ll stay right here.”
    “Of course.” Eloise looked baffled at Mercy’s new earnestness.
    Mercy tore her gaze from Steele to Eloise. “Thank you.” Mercy hugged Eloise and kissed her on the cheek.
    Eloise turned, already wearing her come hither smile.
    When Steele turned right on First, Mercy ducked into the shop. Watching through the window from behind a large display of Lifebuoy soap, she fought back the memories of her last night in New York, the spilt pies, the icy breeze swirling the small room, the smell of her fear and his sweat.
    Steele crossed the street, his long legs taking him around the newspaper boy, the cigar hacker, the fish stand and finally past the chemist shop.
    Eloise clutched her packages and turned down her pouty lips. The freckled youth sweeping the boardwalk visibly bucked up the courage to tip his hat in her direction, and Eloise gave him the briefest nod. Mercy said a prayer of gratitude for the thirst that had prompted Steele to cross the mud and muck and enter the Lone Stag Tavern.
    Mercy let go of a long breath, stepped from behind the soap and smacked into a white cotton shirt covering a warm, broad chest. She automatically raised her hand and then, too late, realized she held a yard stick. She must have picked up it up without thinking, and now had it poised inches from a man with a head of blond wavy hair that contrasted with his dark lashes and eyes.
    He grabbed her wrist and for a moment, they studied each other, Mercy in full frontal attack mode and the tall man who’d captured her wrist. His skin glowed from outdoor work, and she could feel his strength as he held her. A current ran from his hand to her center. She knew this man. He’d rescued her hat and saved her from the brute Wallace. She flushed beneath his gaze. Perhaps he wouldn’t recognize her after all these months. It’d been dark. She’d been dressed as a boy. Her eyes shifted away from his.
    “You frightened me,” Mercy stammered. She should apologize. She studied his boots, because she also owed him a thank-you for his shipboard heroics, but since she didn’t want to admit to being the male clad female he’d previously met, she kept her face adverted.
    “And yet you’re the one holding a weapon,” he said, still holding her hand above her head.
    She swallowed, trying to keep her voice steady and light. “I’ll relinquish my weapon if you release me.”
    He narrowed his eyes, smiling and lowered her hand a fraction. “It seems a fair trade, but how do I know you’re trustworthy.” He dropped her wrist. “I don’t think you are.”
    “Does my yardstick alarm you?” she asked, looking up at him. He