She straightened and looked down at his hands which were still clamped around her arms. Mark yanked them away and shoved his hands into his trousers pockets. If he wasn’t mistaken, a pink flush had crept into Miss Montgomery’s cheeks. But the lighting was hardly decent in here, with one remaining dirty window providing the only light to speak of. Still, the idea of his hands on her arms making her flush was . . .
Stupid. It was irresponsible and very, verystupid.And if there was one thing Mark was, it was smart. Smart enough not to even let himself entertain the thoughts that had just run through his mind.
Miss Montgomery crossed her arms, a package tucked underneath one, and narrowed her eyes. Any trace of a blush that might have existed now gone completely. “Why are you here?”
“I’m looking for someone.” It was hardly a lie; after all, he was looking forher.
“Mmm,” she said.
He adjusted his jacket, although it needed no adjusting. “May I ask why you’ve come to such a place?”
“You were the one who suggested I ask around at boarding houses.” Her words were cutting, and it took all his self-control not to wince.
“Yes,” he said in an even voice. “Although I meantreputableplaces. This one is hardly . . .” He trailed off as the front door opened to admit a fellow who careened sideways and reeked of whiskey.
The man paused and leaned a hand against the wall while his eyes found Miss Montgomery. Mark bit his tongue for a moment. But the man’s unabashed perusal remained transfixed upon Miss Montgomery.
“Move along,” he snarled at the drunken fellow. The man lurched for the nearby stairs and disappeared up into the darkness.
“As I said,” he continued. “Hardly reputable. Your friend wouldn’t find this establishment up to her standards.”
Miss Montgomery had uncrossed her arms, but at his words, she raised her eyebrows. “And how would you know what Miss Lee’s standards might be?”
“I presume they’d be akin to your own. Or higher, given your preclusion to visiting saloons.” It was his irritation at having to yank her out of situations she ought not have found herself in that made him say that last bit out loud, but she didn’t grow angry with him.
Instead, she laughed.
“You’ll find I’m not your average lady, Mr. Becker,” she said, a smile still on her face. “I’m not given to fits of the vapors, and I never shirk a challenge.”
“I can see that,” he said dryly. “Now, may I escort you out of this establishment?” He offered an arm, but she took a step backward.
“Not until I ask after Miss Lee. Or Mrs. McNab, as I found out at one of the general stores. Besides, I thought you were searching for someone also?” She raised those eyebrows again, appearing to question everything about him.
“Yes. By all means.” He gestured toward the hallway, indicating she ought to go first. Who knew where they might find the proprietor of this place, given the man was disinclined to meet folks at the door.
“Somehow, Mr. Becker,” she said as she passed him, those luminous brown eyes holding his gaze, “I believe you might have been searching for me.”
His blood thrummed in his ears as he followed her down the hallway. Had she figured him out? He silently cursed Mr. Montgomery. It was impossible to keep this girl out of trouble without intervening. If she’d figured him out, it would be no wonder.
The hallway led to a kitchen that ran along the rear of the building. The cook glared at them when the entered through the door.
“No guests in the kitchen.” She pointed with a long spoon at the door, indicating they ought to turn right back around and leave.
“We aren’t guests,” Miss Montgomery said. “I’m hoping you might tell me where to find the proprietor of this boarding house?”
“Hallway. First door on the right. Salt!” The cook barked the order at a scrawny kitchen maid who stood timidly nearby.
Miss Montgomery hurriedly thanked the woman and slipped through the door Mark opened. She walked immediately to the door the cook had indicated in the hallway and knocked insistently. Uncertain who might actually answer the door, Mark gently took her wrist and pulled her to the side while he took her place.
And surprisingly, she not only let him, but she did so without glaring at him.
A scruffy-looking older man answered, pulling the door open just far enough to let them see his face. “You and the missus looking for a room?”
“Uh . . . no,” he said, momentarily caught off guard with the man’s assumption that he and Miss Montgomery were husband and wife. He glanced at Miss Montgomery, whose face had gone pink again. If it was in reaction to the indication that they were married, he dared not think on it too long.
“We’re looking for friends who may have taken a room here. McNab is the last name, a man and a woman,” he continued.
“Mr. Bertram McNab,” Miss Montgomery supplied.
