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She wanted to argue. She wanted to stomp on his foot again. She wanted a closer look at those eyes. Instead, she pressed her lips together and allowed herself to be gathered against his chest again.
Even she would be pressed to admit her current situation was a hardship. Besides the fact that his touch was doing strange things to her belly and making her chest feel tight, his plan was reasonable. Provided the men passed them in the next seven minutes, they’d have enough time to board the train and be away.
But seven minutes with her body flush against his, her breath quickening as her breasts were flattened against his chest, the hair at the nape of her neck rustling with each of his warm breaths...seven minutes would be torture. She clenched her fists, determined to bear the friction as he slid against her in an effort to peer around the wall shielding them.
“Miss Murray,” he whispered in her ear, making her shiver. “We have a problem.”
Truer words were never spoken. “What problem?” she whispered back.
“One of the men is standing guard just outside the station lounge.”
Clearly, Kelly’s plan must be discarded. The thug was unlikely to move in the next six minutes and she must be on that train. She could go without Mr. Kelly, but that would mean ignoring Baron’s order to wait for the man. Baron wanted Kelly at The Farm.
She looked up, avoiding Kelly’s unusual eyes. Her gaze rested on his lips, but those also proved too dangerous, and she settled on one of his dark eyebrows. “Do these men need to take you alive?”
“Sure and I don’t know what you’re hinting at, Miss Murray.”
Irish. That was his accent. “Will they kill you now or do they need to bring you to their leader alive?”
“Alive, I expect, though they wouldn’t mind damaging me, if you understand me meaning.”
“Now who would want to hurt you, Mr. Kelly?”
He lifted a brow, which made her chest tighten a fraction more.
“I might owe their employer a pound or two.”
They’d want him alive then. Dead men couldn’t pay debts. In any case, there was no more time to waste. She held up her watch and palmed it so only a glint of metal showed. “Turn around and let me put my arm about your neck.”
“Are you daft?”
“Don’t try me, Mr. Kelly. Turn around.”
He gave her a look of incredulity then turned and hunched down, so she could hook her arm about his neck. She pressed the watch to his temple as though it were a pistol.
“You can’t think this will work,” he muttered.
“Hello there!” she called, pushing Kelly out of the alcove.
The wide, muscular man standing by the column spun around, his small eyes widening. “Oy!” he called to his comrades.
“Is this the person you are searching for?” Bridget pushed Kelly forward. If she could move near enough to the train, they could make a run for it.
“Hand ‘im over, missus.”
“No, don’t come any nearer. I have a pistol to his head, and if you come any closer, I will shoot.”
“Oy!” The thug called again.
“They’re coming back, lass,” Kelly said under his breath.
“You won’t shoot ‘im, missus” The burly man moved forward. He had a vicious scar across one cheek, and his nose looked to be little more than a flat blob in the center of his face.
“I will. I’ve shot men before. Now, I want to board this train, and I am taking him with me.”
The tall man approached, slowing to a walk as he assessed the situation. “You can’t do that, madam.” He was obviously the leader. His speech was slightly more refined. “We work for a very important man, and he needs to speak with Mr. Kelly. Immediately.”
The train hissed out another blast of steam. Now she had two men between the train and herself. She couldn’t look at her watch, but she knew she was almost out of time. “That’s most interesting because I also work for an important man, and he would like to speak with Mr. Kelly as well. Perhaps my employer could speak to Mr. Kelly and then you could have him back. Now, if you would move aside and allow us to pass.” She started confidently forward, pushing Kelly in front of her.
