answer.
She glanced up at his bloodied knuckles, then gently placed her hand on the pit man's cheek. "Here," she whispered. "Oh, Mr. Kelly. How could you do this?"
Jamie stared at the battered man struggling to sit up. A string of swear words sped through his mind.
"I'm sorry, sir," she said stiffly. Moisture glistened in her eyes. "But I doubt Stefan will allow you to call. And and I could not agree to it, either."
Stunned, he stared down at her. What had he done? Suddenly everything had changed. He knew he had not imagined the pleasure Softening her eyes when he first saw her again.
She had been as elated to see him as he had been to see her. Even now, behind her distress, behind her loyalty to her brother, he thought he recognized a glimmer of regret.
"Miss Kolska," Jamie said, wetting his cracked lip. "There's an explanation for this. Please believe me, I did not choose to fight your brother."
Stefan Kolska was rapidly regaining his senses and he would awaken to the sight of his adversary earnestly entreating his sister's forgiveness, lost in the depths of her dark eyes.
"I think you should leave, Mr. Kelly," she said in a low voice, looking away from him.
Watching Kolska from the corner of his eye, he buttoned his waistcoat and pushed aching arms into his coat sleeves. "If you'll just allow me a moment to explain." The accusation in her gaze devastated him when she lifted her head. "I must see you again, Miss Kolska."
Her cheeks burned fiery red and he stared at her, memorizing her face, wanting to caress that gentle heat. Now that he had found her again, he couldn't bring himself to leave her.
"If I was you, Kelly," Gustoffer said from behind him. "I'd do a stamp. I wouldn't be standing here when Kolska gets up."
The look in Lucie Kolska's eyes agreed, urged him to depart. "Tell her this was your idea, Gustoffer." She had to understand he had not created the situation. "For heaven's sake, man, explain what happened," he implored Gustoffer, stepping backward, watching her bend over Kolska. Gustoffer regarded him as if he were a madman.
Before the Broadway crowds blotted her from sight, she glanced up, sorrow and anger drawing her expression.
Jamie cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted to Gustoffer. "Tell her!" If she was the woman he wanted her to be, she would forgive him once she learned: the truth of the matter. He halt to depend on that as it was all he had.
The man who sold him a shovel peered at him across the high sales counter. "Good Lord, man. What happened to you?"
Jamie smiled, feeling his lip crack open again. "I found a job and a girl." Gingerly, he touched his jaw. "There's a problem or two, but this is one of the best days of my life!"
The salesman inspected his slitted eyes and bleeding lip, then laughed. "That must be some girl, mister. If she did that to you on the best day of your life, I'd advise you never to make her mad."
It hurt to laugh. It hurt to move. Smiling, Jamie hefted the shovel in his hand, hoping to hell he could live up to his promise to Gustoffer. Then he counted out a nickel and a twopenny piece, lifted his cap to the salesman and strolled outside as if he were a regular brownstoner, as if he didn't have a care in the world.
What he wanted most was a bath, a bed and a plate of good Irish crubbeens. Since he had money for none of it, he washed at a horse trough, bought a penny cup of ginger pop and walked toward the bowery in search of a hammock in a doss house, swinging the shovel like a walking stick.
Come morning he knew he would feel as if he had been run over by a furniture van, but right now he felt as fit as a gold coach. He had found her again and she was as beautiful as he remembered. By all the saints, his fortunes were on the rise.
For two weeks Stefan had worried and fretted that Lucie might not like Greta or that Greta might not like Lucie. He need not have suffered a moment of concern. On the Sunday afternoon he brought Greta to the