Allison stiffened and remained silent.
He darted a glance toward the kitchen. Heneeded this answer before Mrs. Brown returned. For Allison’ssake, she didn’t need to informanyone but him. “You must understand that if they come asking mequestions they’ll demand answers.”
“Yes.” Allison shifted in her seat and staredat the wall. “Mr. Grier. My master. He wouldn’t let me go.” Shesaid the words mechanically without feeling.
“Word is he died,” George said.
“Good.”
George rubbed the stubble on his cheek. Itwas good if neither of them got blamed. “How did the firestart?”
Allison ran a hand over the shawl in her lap.“He was drunk. Knocked over a lantern. It spread quickly.”
“Oh.”
The pain in Allison’s eyes tore his heart intwo. He wished he could take that all away. The image of Allisonchained in the corner of the bedroom flashed through his mind. “Mr.Grier, did he force—”
“Yes. Yes, he did.”
George gritted his teeth. If the bastardwasn’t already dead he would have killed him with his own hands,tortured him first for every hurt he’d done to Allison.
Mrs. Brown returned carrying a tray withthree cups of coffee. She set the tray on a side table, and handeda cup to Allison and then one to George before pouring one forherself. George held the cup tightly, feeling very awkward.
“You two seem to be getting along this time,”Mrs. Brown said and then laughed.
He knew she was trying to ease the nervoustension in the room, but it failed.
George took a sip of coffee trying to thinkof something else to say to Allison. The bitter liquid dissolvedhis jitters. He’d never gone sparking before—not that theywere sparking.
Allison didn’t say a word either. The uneasysilence made the air thick and heavy, difficult to breathe.
“How are your feet, George?” Mrs. Brownasked.
“They are much better, still healing.”
“Would you like me to look at themagain?”
George shook his head. He owed Mrs. Brownenough already.
“You burned your feet?” Allison asked,tenderness in her voice.
His heart palpated. Did Allison care abouthim? “Not that bad,” George said, trying to brush it off. “Have youthought of what you want to do now?”
“Do?” Allison repeated.
“Now that you’re free. You can make a newlife for yourself.” He shouldn’t have used the word “free” but Mrs.Brown didn’t seem to pick up on the double meaning.
“Oh, yes. I suppose I can.” Allison swallowedhard. She glanced out the window; her thoughts appeared distant fora second. “I’ll get a job. I don’t expect you to continue tosupport me.” She enunciated the endings of her words to exaggerateher point.
George bristled, but quieted the risingprotest. Here was the coldness he expected. “You are not indebtedto me, Allison. I was in the right place at the right time. Anyonewould have done the same.”
Allison didn’t respond and refused to look athim. “I should move on soon.”
George folded his fingers and dug them intohis palm. Was this a test? Should he let her go or try to get herto stay? If only he knew what she wanted from him.
“Where are you going to go, honey?” Mrs.Brown asked, taking the question from his lips.
“You’ve done all you can for me, Mrs. Brown.You too, George. I am very grateful, but I need to go.” She stoodsuddenly as if stuck with a needle. Gathering her skirts she strodeto the door.
“Wait,” George called, grabbing her arm.
“Let me go.” Allison glared at him.
He held her prisoner, delighting in thewarmth of her body, her side pressed against his. “Only after youtell me your plans,” George said coolly. “I will not let you liveon the street. Someone like Mr. Grier could grab you again.”
Terror flashed in her eyes. “I can live onthe street if I want,” she said, some of the determination drainingfrom her voice.
Her breath fanned his face and he drank itin. She looked adorable when she was angry, face pinched, eyesburning, the vein on her neck pulsing. Her full lips beckoned for akiss. His gaze dropped from her eyes to her mouth in silentquestion.
“Just because you saved my life doesn’t giveyou the right to run it.”
“You can do whatever you want, Allison. Ijust want to make sure you’re safe.”
“You have no reason to worry about me. I cantake care of myself. Now let me go.”
“You’re talking nonsense because you’reangry. If you don’t want to go with me,at least stay with Mrs. Brown.”
“Go with you? Who said I would go with you?”She twisted in his grasp and slapped him.
The sting hurt worse than the bite from anoverseer’s whip. His fingers slipped from her arm. “I only meant Icould get you a job.”
Allison breathed heavily, her bosom risingand falling, tempting him. He wanted to feel her, hold her close,and never let her go. But feared she would fight him if he tried.Lust mixed with the anger in the air. It was a volatile combinationlike a lighted fuse on a keg of gunpowder.
“I never asked for your help,” Allison said,her words dripping with venom.
“I know you didn’t. You wanted to die in thatfire. Is that why you hate me?”
“I-I don’t hate you.” The storm in her eyesblew over.
“Good then go with me. The job comes withfood and a safe place to sleep.” In my arms if you will letme. “I’m talking sense. Come with me.” His voice was moreforceful than he intended. She was thick-headed and he needed hiswords to sink in.
Allison huffed. “What is this job?”
George consciously regulated his breathing,focusing on reining in his lust. I will not kiss her.
He took a step back distancing himself fromthe woman he desired, splashing water on the lighted fuse just intime. “I … uh … nothing fancy. The steamboat I’m working on is bigand they have finally decided to hire a second chambermaid.” Hescrutinized her face and couldn’t detect any repulsion.
“I can do that.”
Relief washed over him. This was a step inthe right direction.
Mrs. Brown stood and joined them. “Next timeyou’re docked in St. Louis, I expect both of you to visit me.”
“Yes, ma’am,” George said. “Thank you fortaking such good care of Allison.” He pulled the money from hispocket and pressed
