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“You’re angry with me.”
She closed the distance between them and he needed to stop her. When she was near him, he ceased to think rationally.
“Is that what you will wear down to the docks?” He didn’t look directly at her. “It will be colder there and the winds strong.”
“Oh, yes, quite right.” She looked down at herself. “Forgive me. I’ll go change.”
When she was gone, he tossed the toast back on the plate. What the bloody hell was wrong with him? Part of him knew that Ella had pure motives but he simply couldn’t let the fear go. That he’d misjudged her. His feelings for Ella were so much more than they ever had been for Sarah, which frightened him. Ella could destroy him if she chose to do so.
An hour later she was ready to go and they made their way to the docks. He hadn’t spoken since and he knew, unlike the other times, that the silence weighed heavily in the carriage. But he couldn’t bring himself to break it.
She twisted her hands in her lap but he ignored the nervous gesture.
“Matthew,” she pleaded, her voice thin with worry. “Please don’t think that—“
“I don’t.” It was rude to cut her off, he knew that it was. Taking a breath, he tried to calm the racing of his blood. “We’ll discuss this after we visit the ship. I want to focus on finding Camille.”
She nodded then but continued twisting her hands. “Of course.”
He gave a miniature of Camille to Ella. “Use this to see if anyone can identify her. Say she is your sister.”
Ella nodded again. “I will do my best.”
The carriage rolled up to the docks and Matthew helped her out. The tide was high enough that a multitude of ships had rolled in and the Docklands teamed with people, goods, and carriages.
They finally arrived at the Saint Madeleine to find sailors hurriedly unloading their goods. They bustled about shouting and calling to one another, only stopping to wipe the sweat from their brows. They were busy and unlikely to want to stop to discuss anything with anyone.
She cleared her throat. “Might it be better to wait until they are done and catch them as they are leaving?”
He gave her a look of surprise. “It might. Or even follow them to whatever establishment they land at for their short leave on shore.” He nodded. “They have at least twelve hours until the tide will be high enough for them to leave again.”
“We might even wait until they’ve had one or two ales.” She gave him a small wink. “They’ll be more likely to talk.”
He understood and another ripple of pleasure made him grin at her. Bloody hell, but she was smart. “But not so much that they will be addled.”
“Exactly.” She squeezed his elbow in her excitement.
He wanted to wrap his arm about her waist, pull her close, and drop his nose into her hair. Hell, he wanted to bring her back to the inn and strip off all her clothing to hold her close to him again.
Shaking his head, he focused again on the task at hand. “Rather than stand here gawking, let’s tuck ourselves over in that alley. We can watch without being seen.”
She smiled and then allowed him to lead her across the street.
Within the hour, the men had finished unloading and began to file off the ship. Though some peeled off, a large group went to none other than The Kicking Horse.
“Let us hope that it ends where it began,” Matthew said as they stepped through the door.
“Not an end.” She shook her head. “Just a new beginning.”
That made his chest constrict. He did hope it was a new beginning for many reasons.
They settled in the corner and watched the sailors ordering beverages. A barmaid made her way to them and he saw Ella go very still, she must have known the girl but the other woman clearly did not recognize her.
“What can I get fer ye?” the wench asked.
Matthew ordered without thought. Unlike the first time he was here, he had no intention of drinking anything. They simply wouldn’t allow them to stay if he wasn’t a paying customer.
His eyes strayed over to Ella. Always beautiful, she was a vision now. As lovely as he had ever seen in a pale pink morning gown made of fine wool. His breath hitched and he had the sudden feeling that he didn’t care what her motives might be. If she’d have him, he’d make her his own.
