An Inescapable Attraction (The Defiant Hearts Series, Book 3)

by Sydney Jane Baily

  "Why did you help me? That's what I'm asking."

  Why indeed? He wasn't sure he knew. Some rash feelings from the past had made it impossible for him to turn his back on her.

  "I brought you here and looked after you because we were friends once. That's why," he said.

  She pursed her lips, still pinning him with her gaze. Then she shook her head. Was that disappointment he saw? Was she expecting some other answer? He couldn't imagine what.

  "All right then," she said at last, leaning her head back against the headboard and letting her eyes sink shut. "I'm dog-tired, and I feel like I've been run over by a team of horses, I swear."

  Looking at her pale face with the dark smudges of exhaustion under her eyes, he wanted to stroke her cheek, so he crossed his arms to stop himself. The worst was over and she'd be much better soon and heading off to wherever she was heading. He didn't care where. So why did he hear himself asking her that very question.

  "Where were you going in Chicago? In your boxcar, I mean."

  "It doesn't matter where," she answered, eyes still closed, a touch of defeat in her tone. "I don't care where I go. It's where I'm leaving that matters."

  "Running?" he asked, though it seemed inconceivable that Ellie Prentice might have anything to run from.

  Her lower lip trembled, and intrigued, he leaned closer.

  "Yes," she admitted on the merest of whispers.

  His pulse picked up, but he tamped down the immediate urge to help her. "You want to tell me from what or from whom?"

  "No, not particularly."

  "How'd you get the scrapes on the back of your legs?"

  "Escaping," she answered after a brief pause. "Rusty nails sticking out of the window sill that I climbed out of. Hurt like the devil."

  She opened her eyes and stared directly into his. The ghost of a frightening memory haunted her lovely eyes.

  He shook his head. "It's hard to picture you, Miss Prentice, with the nicest house in Spring and the finest clothing and—well, anything you wanted that your daddy's money could provide—climbing out of a window and fleeing."

  "My father's dead," she said, her voice dropping on the last word. "You know that, and I don't live in Spring anymore."

  "You must still have money," he insisted.

  She lifted one shoulder in a negligent shrug, her eyes darting toward her carpetbag. "Some."

  He blew out a breath of exasperation. "Look, I've got to get going soon," he admitted with rising impatience. "I have a pressing engagement."

  Interest flared in her eyes, followed quickly by a spark of indignation.

  "You can't dump me on these people and abandon me," she protested. "You owe me more than that."

  "Owe you?" he asked, his eyebrows shooting to his hairline before settling into a frown. The memory of her saucy smile when she announced her engagement to Riley had him pushing to his feet in sudden anger. "How in the hell can I possibly owe you anything? I just saved your damn life for no reason that I know."

  A lovely pink color suffused her cheeks. "I think we both know that you owe me," she said, her tone subdued, though her eyes practically shot sparks at him. "However, I suppose my life is an even exchange at that."

  Before he could ask her what in tarnation she was talking about—an even exchange for what?—Mrs. Grindel returned with a tray of food. "For you, girly. Your man here will have to eat at the table."

  "Oh, he can go." Eliza dismissed him indifferently with a wave of her hand, not even looking at him.

  Simmering with resentment and more than a hint of confusion, Thaddeus followed the bemused old lady out of the room. He ate his supper without tasting a morsel of it. Ellie was talking in riddles and at the same time, managing to get under his skin like a painful chigger. And why was she recklessly riding boxcars and running from god knows what?

  Setting down his fork, he thanked Mr. and Mrs. Grindel for the meal, excused himself from the table, and headed upstairs, ready to demand some clear answers—only to find her sound asleep again. He stared at Ellie, looking his fill at her pink lips and long lashes fanning her pale cheeks. What an angel... when she was sleeping!

  Eventually, Thaddeus climbed into bed beside her, hoping for a peaceful night's sleep, only to find that the night became a challenging battlefield. Aware of a soft female form against him, he caught himself reaching for her time and again, pulling back when he realized it was Ellie. That fact didn't make him want her any less; rather, it increased his desire tenfold. But she'd always been off limits to the likes of him, and nothing had changed in that regard.

  Staring at the ceiling, drifting in and out of sleep, he tossed and turned for hours, trying to focus on his gratitude that she was no longer feverish, rather than on the warmth of her enticing body.

  As soon as the sun's rays fingered the wall by his shoulder, he clambered out of bed, trying to ignore the physical frustration he couldn't deny, not to mention the growing irritation that he'd been delayed four days on his journey to Chicago.

  Shoving his legs into his pants and doing up his belt, he was determined to say goodbye to Ellie and continue on his way.

  His movements must have awakened her, for she sat up slowly and swung her feet to the floor. Lifting her slim arms overhead, she arched her back.

  He swallowed, his mouth feeling dry, as he watched her long braid sway, brushing across her bottom while she stretched. He squeezed his hands shut, realizing he wanted to undo her braid and run his hands through her hair more than he wanted to breathe.

  Turning her head and blinking her blue eyes at him, she said, "I think I should have a bath this morning. Can you arrange that for me, Thaddeus?"

  The question drove home Ellie's unfamiliar helplessness and dependency, too vulnerable for him to turn his back on. Yet. Despite hankering to get away, far away from her—who with a few words could make him feel like he was less than cow dung—Thaddeus decided to stay a little while longer.

  Wordlessly, he nodded and left the room to find Mrs. Grindel, for he certainly couldn't be the one to help Ellie bathe. Just the idea made him sweat. He only hoped Ellie would behave and not speak to the old woman as though she were her servant.

  After securing Mrs. Grindel's help, Thaddeus waited downstairs, sitting at the dining table drinking coffee, feeling nervous. He couldn't put his finger on the reason for his edginess, but he remained taciturn while Mr. Grindel tried to engage him in the news of the day.

  At last, after what seemed an inordinate amount of time for one woman to get herself scrubbed and dressed, he heard footsteps on the stairs.

  The old lady came first, with Ellie descending unhurriedly behind her. She stopped at the foot of the stairs, taking in her surroundings for the first time.

  Thaddeus stared. It twisted his gut to see her standing upright, a little shaky, all five-foot-two of her, tiny and blond and perfect, if too thin for his liking. With reluctance, his eyes roamed over her, in a dark blue traveling gown that accentuated her curves far better than the baggy trousers and man's shirt he'd found her in. Her freshly washed hair was pulled back from her face and somehow secured in a large twist high at the back of her head.

  With annoyance, he felt his pulse speed up, especially at the sight of her long neck and delicate collarbone. He dragged his gaze away.

  "Well, would you look at what the cat dragged in?" Mr. Grindel remarked, putting down his coffee cup. "I'm only teasing, girl. You look a picture!"

  Thaddeus winced inwardly when, in classic Eliza style, she ignored the man's comments and fixed her eyes expectantly on Thaddeus. He jumped up and pulled out a chair for her.

  "Your wife has made quite the recovery," Mrs. Grindel said kindly. "And no wonder. She's a hardy little thing."

  Thaddeus expected the woman had been treated to Ellie's imperial attitude with which she approached everyone, tough as pig hide.

  "I'll go get her some strong tea and eggs," the old lady added.

  Ellie gave a faint nod, but said nothing,
not a word of thanks, which didn't surprise him. Her manners were considered poor to none in Spring City. Oh, she had them all right; she simply chose rarely to use them on lesser beings. He ignored her behavior and studied her face. Despite the shadowy circles under her eyes, she looked worlds better than when he'd found her.

  "I'm glad you're feeling better, Ellie," he said and started to put his hand over hers.

  She shot him a glare that would freeze water.

  Christ! She was a difficult woman. He remembered her as spirited and often ornery, but just as often smiling and fun and laughing, at least around him. True, she was often amused at someone else's expense, though to hear the sound of her laughter was worth it. At least to him.

  They ate in nearly complete silence except for the banter of the Grindels. When they had finished eating, Thaddeus escorted Ellie back upstairs, enjoying the view of her rear end as she climbed the stairs in front of him.

  Get a grip, man, he told himself. He had to get to the broker in Chicago and then all the way back to Montana before his deed expired.

  Back in their room, she practically tossed herself back onto the bed.

  "You all right?" he asked, closing the door behind him and leaning against it.

  "Feeling weak as a kitten," she said, eyes closed.

  "Just lie there then, but we have to talk." He had an inkling that she wouldn't like his words, especially as he'd made up his mind to leave that very day.

  Smiling at her unladylike grunt as she grabbed for a pillow and wedged it under her head, he reached into his pocket for his packet of Old Golds, before remembering, for the umpteenth time that day, that he was out of cigarettes. Not even any tobacco and rolling papers, never mind the ready-mades. He put that situation high on his list to rectify as soon as possible.

  Better to get this over with, he thought, crossing his arms over his chest. Still, he said nothing for a moment while he watched her breathing, her chest rising and falling steadily. What was that tightness in his own chest and why was he delaying telling her he was leaving? She was so peaceful—fragile, even—and he hated to poke a snake. He decided to start with a different subject.

  "Ellie, tell me why you're running."

  She said nothing at first and he wondered if she'd drifted off to sleep. After a slight pause, however, she said, "No."

  "I guess I can't help you then."

  He barely managed to mask his relief. If she'd told him something he could do for her, he'd feel bound to do it.

  Silence was her sole response.

  Doubt niggled him. It wasn't like Ellie to keep her woes to herself. He had heard her express every grievance, small and large, in a loud voice to any and all who would listen. He recalled distinctly when she got stung by a bee and shrieked as though the whole town was burning. Or the time Jessie brought her lemon cake in place of apple pie at Fuller's restaurant. Ellie had been outraged that Jessie didn't remember how much she despised lemons.

  He shook his head. But what if it was something serious?

  "Well, can I?" he heard himself ask.

  "Did I ask for your help?" she retorted, her voice low and soft, like a sigh.

  His curiosity expanded, near to bursting.

  "No, you didn't," he admitted, "but now you're dressed in that pretty dress and not in your grand disguise. So, what are you going to do?"

  Another grunt.

  Frustration got the better of him and he raised his voice. "Jesus, Ellie! What in Sam Hill happened to you?"

  Finally, she opened her eyes and shot him a glance. "What do you mean?"

  "You seem so... so distant and rigid."

  She laughed, though it wasn't a happy sound. "I think you're forgetting something."

  "What's that?" he asked.

  "Everyone in Spring considers me a holy terror," she said, her voice choked with resentment. "And they always have. I'm mean and selfish." She shrugged as though "distant and rigid" meant nothing in comparison.

  He felt unexpectedly sorry for her. Pushing away from the door, he dragged the heavy chair out of the corner and sat down on top of their coats and clothing, which he hadn't bothered to put away. Sprawling his booted feet out in front of him, he reminded her, "I never did."

  She looked at him levelly, then blinked. "No, that's true. Why is that?"

  He grinned. "They didn't know how to handle you, is all."

  She sat up abruptly, scooting back so she could lean against the headboard. Chin tilted, she cocked her head. "Oh, and how is that?"

  Thaddeus felt his smile fade. The urge tugged at him to cross the small room, take her in his arms, and kiss her. He'd always wanted her. How to handle her? Gently, tenderly, passionately, firmly, and with everything he had. But it was too late for that.

  "You ought to be handled with a switch or a paddle. Back home, you were spoiled and sassy and took what you wanted and said things you shouldn't." All of which he'd liked about her. Nevertheless, it hadn't made her any friends in Spring City, including his own sister, who couldn't stand her.

  Ellie made a face at him. "If I'm rigid, as you say, it comes from deflecting everyone's anger and jealousy and insults for so darn long."

  Everyone's except Riley's, who had liked her just fine—enough to want to marry her. He didn't want to think about Riley, Ellie's fiancé of nearly three years until she'd released him from their engagement.

  Apparently, the breakup hadn't worried the man much since Riley had up and married less than two months later. But they'd had three years, Ellie and Riley. Three years. It was hard to believe they hadn't shared a lot of intimacy and embraces, and maybe more. He shook his head. Hadn't he told himself not to think of Riley?

  "Is that why you won't go home? Because of what people think of you?" Now that he'd spent time helping her beat the fever, he wanted her tucked safely away in Spring City, the way she was in his memories. "Your house is still standing."

  "That's all I've got." Her lips twisted with bitterness. "No family, no friends, only a house. I might as well be on the road, don't you agree?"

  Agree? Of course he didn't agree! He liked to think of her sitting on her wraparound porch that he'd looked at every day of his life until he'd left, always hopeful of catching a glimpse of the enticing Ellie Prentice.

  "Besides," she added, bringing him back to her present situation, "I can't go back home. I have to disappear."

  Slivers of fear shot through him at the thought of her vanishing forever.

  "Who in the hell are you running from?" Determined to drag an answer from her, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and waited.

  Crossing her arms obstinately, she glared at him.

  He glared back. "Tell me, Ellie, or I'll..."

  She narrowed her eyes to slits. "You'll what?"

  Blast it! He had no leverage. Nothing she wanted; nothing she needed. The one thing he knew she cared about, except herself, was her father, and he was dead. After that, she valued her reputation in Spring City. Did she still? he wondered.

  "I'll tell my sister where I found you and how you were dressed. Charlotte will no doubt write all about it to her good friend Sarah Cuthins. And once Sarah knows..." He let his words hang in the air, like a fat pigeon.

  Ellie blanched, and he knew she still prized her place in Spring City's society, which was squarely at the top echelon.

  She puffed out her cheeks and then sighed. "It's a long story."

  "I'll listen until I have to leave," he said, wondering why the words made him all sorts of prickly.

  She stilled, eyes widening for a split second, then repeated, "Leave?"

  "You've recovered now, or nearly," he pointed out. "We both have places to go." Though, damn it all, he felt as though he was letting her down.

  She nodded, biting her lower lip and sucking on it while he watched, captivated beyond belief. What would it be like to suck on her lip?

  Distracted, Thaddeus almost missed the slight trembling of her fingers as she plucked at a thread on her gown. Almo
st. But he was good at cards precisely because he didn't miss the details, like when a man twitched or sweated, gloated or reddened. He could see the difference between someone holding a bum hand or a full house, just by reading a face. Still, he didn't know to what he should attribute Ellie's quivering; was it weakness from the fever or fear or even sadness?

  "Then why bother telling you anything?" she asked, her voice grown softer again.

  He didn't know the answer, but curiosity had him by the throat. And he knew she was finally going to open up to him by the way her body relaxed against the headboard.

  "Tell me what's going on?" he urged again.

  "Fine," she sighed. "I've got nothing else to do except sit here and—"

  Loud voices downstairs interrupted her, along with heavy boots on the floorboards, and more men's voices floating up from outside. She sat bolt upright, eyes wide with alarm. Only then did Thaddeus recall he'd heard horses thundering by earlier, perhaps with riders searching door-to-door.

  Alarm feathered his spine. Considering what he'd taken from one powerful man, he was fairly certain they were looking for him.

  Chapter 3

  Slipping out the back door would probably save his hide, not to mention the illicit belongings in his bag that he could not afford to lose. On the other hand, Thaddeus couldn't leave Ellie alone and defenseless with armed men stirring up trouble. Every instinct in him screamed to protect this woman who had no one else in the world. He had no choice but to stand his ground.

  "Shit!" Reaching for his gun in its holster by the door, he then retrieved another one from inside his bag, making sure they were both loaded before going to the window and nudging the curtain aside.

  Three men were milling about in the street. One looked up at him, his face set and emotionless. Thaddeus was sure he'd seen him before—one of Jack Stoddard's goons. So they were here for him, armed and ready to shoot. People could get hurt in the process, Ellie included.

  "Shit!" he said again.

  "Stop saying that," she scolded, getting off the bed and coming toward the window.