Chapter 12
The children had run off. Bellamy hated to be the one to deliver the news to Zaira. He’d known how disappointed she would be, especially after how invested in them she’d been last night.
“No.” Zaira released the word breathlessly, almost as if the air had been knocked out of her. Was she wobbling?
He swung his leg over his mount and hopped down, reaching for her arm to steady her.
She’d turned her eyes upon him, dismay darkening the green hue to the color of the Glendalough Valley’s heather-flecked hills. One of the paintings in the pub was of that very valley and the mountain ridge he’d hiked to often as a boy—one that overlooked a glacial lake below.
“Where did they go?” Her question was infused with an urgency he’d felt earlier—the urgency to go after them and bring them back.
“I’ve been out for the past couple of hours searching every place I could think of, asking around, and even going to the police station to see if any officers on patrol saw the two or took them to one of the orphanages.”
“And . . . ?”
“And I haven’t had any luck, not even a wee bit.”
She closed her eyes briefly before opening them and blinking back tears. “Why did they run away? We were going to help them.”
He’d already had time to think about the matter as he’d searched.
“My guess is that Seamus doesn’t trust any adults, probably because someone previously claiming to help him and his sister betrayed or put them in an orphanage against their will.
The only thing to be doing now is pray they stay safe—”
“And we’ll continue to search for them and their father.” Her pretty face was filled with determination, and her mouth set with resolve.
He wanted to agree with her. But how could he allow her to roam the streets and alleys of St. Louis when he’d passed by wagons filled with the bodies of those who’d died overnight from cholera?
The new Committee of Public Health was working vigorously to keep up with carrying the deceased to cemeteries. But even the cemeteries were overflowing with bodies waiting to be buried, and grave diggers were constantly having to find more room.
The only way to alleviate Zaira’s concern and to prevent her from putting herself at risk of catching cholera was to continue the search by himself. “If I promise to keep looking for the children, will you promise to nip along home and stay there?”
She sniffed, as if offended he’d even ask her such a thing. “Of course I won’t agree. I’m perfectly capable of searching too.”
Her answer was exactly what he’d thought it would be. The only situation that would work was to search with her, then he’d be able to steer her away from the areas of the city most affected by cholera.
He released an exasperated sigh. “Then at least be promising me you won’t go out without me.”
She opened her mouth, the protest easy to see in her eyes.
He rapidly touched a finger to her lips to stop her. “At least that, Zaira. Please.”
She studied his face, and some of the fight seemed to leave her expression. Could she sense his sincerity? Was she seeing that this time he wasn’t being antagonistic, but that he did truly want her to be safe? He hoped so.
She didn’t move. Except that her gaze dropped to his finger against her lips. She drew in a sharp breath, and the green in her eyes darkened.
His touch was affecting her. Even if she claimed she didn’t like him, it was becoming more and more apparent that this attraction between them was mutual.
“Please don’t go out without me,” he whispered without moving his finger.
She closed her eyes but couldn’t hide her desire.
Echoing desire rippled through him, but he fought against it. He had to stay in control. Because the truth was, if a brief touch could command her this way, he’d have to use it to his advantage. He didn’t want to manipulate her, but he also had to find a way to keep the upper hand.
“Do you promise?” he whispered.
“Aye.” She lifted her lashes, and as her gaze connected with his again, he had an overwhelming need to bend down and replace his finger on her lips with his mouth. She was so soft and warm, and he knew she would taste as delicious as she had the last time.
But he couldn’t—wouldn’t—give in to physical desire. Because that’s all this was between them, and all it would ever be. She was a stunningly beautiful woman, and any man would feel drawn toward her.
Oh aye, what he was feeling was ordinary and nothing to worry about.
He dragged his thumb across her bottom lip, then let his hand fall away.
She didn’t move from where he’d immobilized her.
A strange sense of satisfaction sizzled through him.
“Bellamy?” Jenny’s call from the back door of the pub broke the spell that had somehow been cast between them.
He didn’t budge from where he stood in front of Zaira, and Zaira remained motionless, as if she hadn’t heard Jenny.
Zaira was an innocent. She’d already admitted she didn’t know about relationships. That’s why she’d wanted to hug or kiss him, so she could expand her life experiences.
He hadn’t considered the fact before, but he was her first kiss. Her only kiss.
“Bellamy?” Jenny said again. “Did you know Da’s inside writing out a contract with Kiernan for your match to Zaira?”
Oscar was writing a contract for a match? The news penetrated the haze that had settled over Bellamy. He shifted to take in Jenny wiping her hands on her apron. “Zaira and I are agreeing on a courtship. That’s all.”
“Well, he’s pretty determined to get the deal settled, so he is.”
Of course he was. With a shake of his head, Bellamy stalked across the alley toward the pub. He brushed past Jenny, made his way through the kitchen, and then ducked into the dining room.
It was empty except for Oscar and Kiernan sitting at the corner table.
Sure enough, Oscar was writing something down on a piece of paper he’d torn from his leather-bound matchmaker journal, where he’d kept track of the matches he made—the names and ages of the couples as well as details about their families along with any other pertinent information.
“Hold on now with you, Oscar,” Bellamy called as he strode past the wall of liquor and the bar counter.
“No need.” Oscar continued to write on the paper in front of him. “I’ve got everything figured out.”
“There’s nothing to be figuring out.” Bellamy’s footsteps echoed loudly in the quiet of the pub.
He usually wasn’t up and about at this time of the morning, but he’d only slept for a few hours last night after he’d returned to the apartment.
Then he’d gotten up early to check on the children and discovered they were gone. He’d been awake ever since.
“Oh aye.” Oscar grinned with a cunning that set Bellamy on edge. “There’s a lot to be figuring out, to be sure, now that the Shanahans have finally come to visit me.”
A strange wariness settled through Bellamy. Had Oscar merely been biding his time for the Shanahans to hear about the kiss? Was that why he’d been taking so long with all the other meetings he’d been having lately? Because he’d really been waiting for the Shanahans to visit?
Maybe Oscar had set up the meetings in the first place as a way to put pressure on the Shanahans to come forward. Maybe he’d also done it to put pressure on Bellamy, guessing that he would rather choose Zaira than a random stranger.
Bellamy narrowed his eyes on the older matchmaker. Holy mother. The man had outwitted him, so he had.
The front door swung open and banged against the wall with a force that reverberated through the building.
James Shanahan stood in the doorway, the bright sunshine spilling past him and outlining his imposing frame.
Attired as impeccably as always in a tailored suit, he was a fine-looking man.
But today his face was nearly as red as his hair, and his expression was like that of an enraged bull about to charge.
He swept his gaze over the pub, and upon catching sight of Bellamy, he lurched forward, and his hands formed into fists. No doubt the fellow had finally heard what had transpired earlier in the week with the kiss and had ridden into the city first thing this morning to deal with the problem.
Bellamy straightened his shoulders, bracing for another walloping he deserved. It didn’t matter that Kiernan had already punched him. Mr. Shanahan had a right to release his frustration too.
“Da?” Zaira’s voice rang out behind Bellamy, and it was filled with worry. “What are you doing?”
Mr. Shanahan didn’t seem to see or hear Zaira and continued to barrel forward with his glare fixed upon Bellamy.
“Da!” Zaira shouted this time. Then she did what only Zaira would do. She flung herself into the fray, held out her arms, and lifted her chin. “Leave Bellamy alone.”
Thanks be, Mr. Shanahan pulled up short, but only just in time.
Bellamy placed his hands on Zaira’s waist, intending to move her to the side and set her out of the way of any flying fists. As his fingers made contact near her hips, Mr. Shanahan’s angry gaze followed the movement, and his nostrils flared.
“Take your hands off my daughter this instant.” He ground out the words in a lethal tone.
Bellamy gently guided Zaira to the side and at the same time stepped in front of her to protect her.
He didn’t entirely release her and instead held her in place with one hand while he brought the other forward, holding it up to show Mr. Shanahan he meant no disrespect and that he also didn’t intend to fight.
“Everything is worked out, Da.” Kiernan had risen and was now shoving tables and chairs aside as he approached, obviously sensing that his da was mad enough to hurt Bellamy.
“No one touches or takes advantage of my daughters!” Mr. Shanahan pushed his face into Bellamy’s.
“I apologize,” Bellamy said quickly. “I regret I didn’t take more care with Zaira.”
“You ruined her!” Mr. Shanahan’s spittle hit Bellamy.
“She’s not ruined.” Kiernan grabbed his da and pulled him away. “I’ve started the match process with the McKennas.”