The Heir of Thornfield Manor

by Ellie Thornton

  She went up another rung, then turned to sit on the wall. A blast of a car horn startled her and made her lose her balance slightly. Reaching out, she placed one hand on the tree and the other on the ladder to steady herself. She glanced back at the road as the ’68 Mustang she’d seen at the show headed toward her from the direction of the driveway. It pulled over next to where she sat on the wall, and out jumped Daley.

  “What on God’s green earth do you think you’re doing?” He raced to the arched door in the wall, unlocked it, then yanked it open. “Elizabeth, get down from there!”

  She ignored him and pushed herself over onto the concrete. “I’m testing a theory. Go away!”

  He reached the ladder and took hold, making it shake. “What theory? And did you just tell me to go away?”

  She closed her eyes for a second, getting her bearings. She glanced down at the base, at the tall wheat-like grass growing up the side, and a shiver shot up her spine. She turned her gaze to him. “I’m checking to see if a person could gain access to your property this way.” She shimmied closer to the branch. “And yes, I told you to go away.”

  He jumped onto the ladder, bounding up a few steps, wobbling it until Elizabeth had to turn and grab the thing with both hands.

  “Stop!”

  He did a little more than halfway down, barely out of reach of her.

  “Don’t you have better things to do with your time?” she asked. Like entertaining Bridgette?

  He responded just as testily. “Probably, but if you insist on endangering yourself, then I don’t see any alternative but to stay here and make sure you don’t break your neck.”

  “I can take care of myself.” She teetered and reached out to the branch to steady herself.

  “I’m well aware. And if you must know—it’s not possible to climb over that way, especially not by you, if the pale sheen of your face is anything to go by. Now, please, come down.”

  She stared out over the branch. A part of her really wanted to go out there just to spite him, but the professional in her had gotten her answer. It wasn’t possible. Though, in her defense, she hadn’t known she was afraid. She’d climbed up several escape ladders and through many a window in her time as a detective and had never gotten vertigo. It was a weird feeling.

  She clenched her jaw, then scooted back to the ladder and swung her legs onto it. “Get down, please,” she said.

  He jumped off and held the ladder steady as she descended. Halfway down, she turned and walked the rest the way down as if she were on stairs.

  Patrick offered her his hand on the last few rungs, and she took it. Once off, she tried to pull her hand from his grasp, but he held tight.

  “That was dangerous,” he said.

  “At least I’m wearing tennis shoes. You didn’t even have the common sense to change out of your dress shoes when you were up there.”

  “Tennis shoes? That’s where you’ll sit on your wall of indignation? We both know my shoes have nothing to do with your current mood.”

  She narrowed her eyes. She was not going there. With her free hand, she pointed to herself and then him as she said, “I’m the cop around here, not you. I’m here to protect you, not the other way around.”

  “And if you’d broken your neck?” His grip tightened. “How would you protect me then?”

  “I could haunt you.”

  “That’s not funny.” He scowled, and she immediately regretted her words. If losing his wife wasn’t enough, she had to go and say something stupid like that.

  “I’m fine.” She turned to the ladder, making him release his grip. “Could you help me with this, please?”

  Once the ladder was down and secured to the back of the four-wheeler, they made eye contact. Neither said anything, and she was fine with that. She didn’t know what to say, anyway. And despite her “haunting” misstep, she was still mad at him, so she turned to leave.

  He wrapped her arm in his large hand and swung her back to face him.

  “Whoa, jeez!” she cried mid-spin. And then, just as fast, she was in his arms.

  He buried his face in her hair.

  Her arms flailed out and went stiff, and she held her eyes wide. “Daley?”

  “For the last time,” he grouched. “Call me Patrick. Please.” A hint of urgency came through as he spoke.

  She should be cussing him out, but his desperation had caught her off guard. “I don’t …”

  He breathed in deep, causing the hairs at the back of her neck to stand on end.

  She swallowed. “… think that would be very professional.”

  “Seeing you up there terrified me.” He tightened his grip on her.

  “I wasn’t trying to scare you.”

  He pulled back an inch to look at her. His gaze found hers, then dropped to her lips. She sucked in a breath and couldn’t help but make the circuit with her gaze as well. He grinned and leaned in.

  Bridgette! She jerked out of his embrace, turning her back on him.

  “What is it?”

  “Bridgette?” she snapped. “Or is one woman not enough for you?”

  “Elizabeth, are you jealous?”

  She spun back around and gave him her iciest stare. “It’s Ms. Shea, and no, I’m not. Who do you think you are? Not fifteen minutes ago, Bridgette was crawling into your lap, and now you’re making a pass at me?” She turned to the four-wheeler again, but he rushed around her and leaned against it so she couldn’t climb on.

  “Now, wait a second,” he snapped.

  “Move.” She gritted her teeth.

  “No.” His mouth was in a fine line, and his eyes were narrowed slightly. He was angry. She’d seen him grumpy and in-your-face blunt, but she’d never seen him angry. Not really. “I’m not dating Bridgette, and I have no plans to start.”

  “Right.” She scoffed. “You’re just snuggle buddies.”

  “We’re not snuggle buddies, or buddies of any kind.” His angry tone dropped to a near whisper. “She’d like to be, but I have my sights set elsewhere.”

  “Then why is she here? Unless she’s dating you, I see no other reason for her presence. And considering how I found you two a moment ago—”

  “I was pushing her off when you came in,” he said.

  “Oh, please.”

  “Has anyone ever told you you’re infuriating?” He grabbed her hands. “You’re not the only one who could complain about the company you keep. Didn’t Finley call you sexy?”

  She frowned. Yeah, he had, and if Daley hadn’t arrived when he had, she wouldn’t have known what to do. Finley was a nice guy, but they were working together. Technically there were no rules against it because he was a Fed and she was a detective, but interoffice flirting wasn’t something she’d ever had to deal with before. Sure, the guys at the 35th made passes at her all the time, but that was always out of jest. She’d been pretty confident that when Finley had called her sexy, he’d meant it.

  “Do I need to be worried about that?” He slid one of his hands a little way up her arm, yanking her from her irrelevant thoughts.

  She shivered, and he tilted his head. Seduction as a form of offense.

  “Huh?” His eyes crinkled at the corners, and he was fighting back a smile as his fingers caressed back down to her hand.

  She set her jaw. “Stop that.”

  “Stop what?”

  “That.” She nodded to his hand.

  He pulled her closer, and she placed her free hand on his chest to stop him. He released the hand he held and grabbed the one over his chest. “Do I need to worry about Finley?”

  She took a deep breath. This was ridiculous. She’d never been a great liar to begin with, so to be put under fire by this brilliant, gorgeous mind reader seemed ridiculously unfair. She bit the bullet. “You know full well that I’m not interested in Finley. But that’s not why you need to worry.”

  He lifted her hand to his mouth. “Why do I need to worry?” he murmured against her fingers.

  She y
anked her hand away. “You … are out of your mind. Could you take this seriously for a second?”

  He raised his hands as if in surrender and shoved them in his pockets. He then stood from his reclined position against the four-wheeler, bringing them within inches again. “All right, I’m listening.”

  He was just using a different tactic called getting in her personal space.

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m a cop. I’m on duty. And you’re … well, you. I’m supposed to be watching you—not getting in the middle of your love affairs.” To make her point, she took a step back. “And I don’t want to.”

  “If you’re supposed to be watching me, then why were you so reckless with your life to try to climb that tree without someone here to help you? And why would you leave me alone in there with Bridgette?”

  She fought the urge to face-palm. She was the infuriating one? Her? “My job isn’t to follow you everywhere you go. And it’s certainly not to get in the middle of your dating life. There are rules, Daley. They’re in place for a reason. So whatever’s in your mind, get it out.”

  “Rules are made to be broken,” he said.

  She slouched. “Is there nothing you hold sacred?”

  “Thou shalt not murder; that’s a good rule.”

  She glanced down, unable or unwilling to look in his eyes after that. “It comes down to this. I’m a cop and you’re taken.”

  “I’m not taken. Not by Bridgette. She’s a coldhearted schemer and likely many things much worse than that; my relationship with her is simply a means to an end. But you …”

  She turned her back on him. “Stop.”

  He came around her and grabbed her shoulders.

  “Let me go.” She had to get out of here. Away from Thornfield, away from the manor, away from its heir. She couldn’t stay. Not now. They’d just have to find someone else to take the job. Preferably a man.

  “You’re not leaving. Not until everything’s been said.”

  “I’ll knock you down if I have to!” she yelled.

  “Go ahead,” he said. “You don’t really want to leave, and I don’t want you to.”

  “You don’t own me. If I want to leave, I will.”

  “Would you really deny me the chance to say what’s on my mind—after everything?” His grip tightened on her shoulders.

  She sucked in an exasperated breath. It was a manipulative thing to say, but it worked. No matter what was happening here, she couldn’t hurt him. Despite all this, she liked him.

  At her hesitation, he plowed on. “We haven’t known each other long, I realize, but it feels longer, doesn’t it?” He hunched to look her in the eye.

  It did. Since she’d met him, she’d felt a closeness, a familiarity with him. Like they’d known each other for years. And it wasn’t because she’d seen his circus perform. There was more to it than that. Much more.

  He continued, “You make me feel things I haven’t for a long time, things I thought I’d never feel again. So, no, I’m not terribly interested in any rules that would keep me from you.”

  Her heart thudded in her chest. It was a beautiful thing to say, but it also kind of sounded like a line. Especially considering she looked nothing like his known type. Katelyn had been tall, with caramel-colored hair and jade eyes. Bridgette looked more like Katelyn than she did. “Are you serious?”

  “You think you’re not my type? That I’m playing you?”

  Of course he’d guess that. “Based on the evidence.”

  He reached for her crucifix, taking it in his palm. His knuckles brushed over her collarbone, and in the process made her shiver. “I wish I knew a way I could convince you of my sincerity.” He dropped her cross and made eye contact. “But I don’t know how. I’ve spent my life conning people into believing me; that’s where my expertise lies. All I can do is ask you to give me a chance to prove myself.”

  She lowered her gaze, the weight of her cross suddenly very apparent. He’d never done anything to make her think he was a player, he’d never claimed to be dating Bridgette, and every time she’d been hanging on him, he’d been more focused on Elizabeth. And he’d been loyal to his wife. His actions spoke of sincerity. Judging him before he’d done something wrong wasn’t fair or her right, anyway. What it came down to was whether she liked him enough to risk it.

  She glanced up into his sparkling eyes, the gaze that searched her face for her answer, and at the man who had made her feel things she’d never felt before. Things she’d never expected because they’d never occurred to her. She’d spent so much of her life buried in her responsibilities, her brothers, and work that she’d given very little thought to romance or what she wanted.

  And there was something there—between them. Friendship, a deeper friendship than she’d had in a long time outside of work and her partner. He made her laugh, made her proud with how he handled himself after everything he’d been through, made her lose sleep thinking and rethinking about every conversation. One look from him sent goose bumps all over her skin, and when he got close to her, it was as if the whole world fell away, leaving just the two of them.

  She wanted him, all right.

  She glanced up at him, at the worried line of his lips and the downcast expression as he expected the worse, waited for her to reject him and squash his sensitive heart.

  He wanted her too.

  “What’s it to be?” he asked.

  She wrapped an arm around his neck, went up on tiptoe, and kissed him.

  As his lips met hers, a roiling heat rushed over her, from head to toe and back again, a swirling storm of emotions riding its wake as it went.

  Joy. Confusion. Frustration. Fear. Love.

  Because despite all her hesitations and worries, despite what she’d kept telling herself, she loved this man. And regardless of the relatively short time they’d spent together, she felt a deep connection with him that went far beyond time.

  His lips were soft and his kisses slow and deliciously drawn out. Her knees went weak; he wrapped his arms fully around her. He smiled against her lips as she grasped him back, holding onto him for dear life in this never-ending sea of emotions.

  It was too much: her feelings, the heat shooting through her, the way she was pressed against him while he held her. Too much to the point that she felt she might burst from it all, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop. She wanted more. More of the heat, of this feeling, more of this man, more of all it. Nearly twenty-eight years of life and she’d never wanted anyone or anything more.

  Chapter Twelve

  Elizabeth had stayed out in the orchard with Patrick for over an hour, yet it’d only felt like half that time. Time seemed to suspend when they were together, which somehow made every moment seem more precious. Every kiss more important than the last.

  He’d kept one hand low on her back and buried his other deep in her hair. She’d been right: his kisses were so much more powerful than anything she could imagine. It’d more than sent shivers through her; it made her toes curl and left her breathless, thoughtless, and speechless. And that was just on the surface. Underneath her embarrassing reactions, she’d felt her heart soar. The fact that his kisses were liberating was completely unexpected—she wasn’t sure what it was exactly he’d freed her from.

  And even better than all that was the way he whispered his elation between kisses, and the way he’d ended their moment with a kiss to the side of her mouth, to her cheek, and then to the hollow behind her ear. She’d never felt so cherished in her life.

  But all too soon, they separated. He returned to his car, and she drove the four-wheeler back to the house. Out in the orchard, it’d felt like an otherworldly experience, but the moment the manor came into view, worry started to nag at the back of her mind. Darkness seemed to ebb around the edges and corners of the place. The Gothic manor with locked rooms, furniture covered in sheets, and some woman creeping around at night turning on the gas in the fireplaces. And the place where Katelyn Daley had been killed.

&n
bsp; Elizabeth pushed the looming darkness from her mind and focused. She was still on the job, and Patrick was part of that. Not only that, but someone had tried to kill him, and he’d flat out told her that he had every intention of getting revenge, not justice, which terrified her. And then there was the party. The one that had made Bridgette pounce.

  Coming around the bend of the path to the stables, she spotted Patrick immediately despite the dust kicking up around her from the wheels. Thankfully the sparkling white convertible was gone. The last person she ever wanted to see again was Bridgette. There was something wrong with that woman—and Elizabeth didn’t just think that because the woman had been all over Daley. Bridgette was too cool and calculating despite her flirtatious manner.

  By the garage, Daley leaned against his car with his arms crossed over his chest. His smile widened when he caught sight of her, and her heart jumped in her chest. In the little time they’d known one another, his hold on her had rooted itself deep within her psyche and heart. It scared her. If this went south, it’d break her.

  She swallowed hard at the thought as she parked the four-wheeler in the garage. Before turning, she plastered a smile on her face and sauntered over to him—enjoying the way he took her in as she got closer, at his blatant appreciation.

  Once she was within arm’s length, he reached out and pulled her to him. Her eyes widened, and she glanced toward the house, afraid that Alice might see. She needed to think about this some more before making it public.

  “Alice went to town.” He planted a kiss on her jaw. “She drove past me on my way back.”

  She shook her head and looked at him.

  He leaned forward, his gaze darting from her eyes to her lips and back again, his desire clear. She planted her hands on his chest, preventing him.

  His eyes crinkled at the corners. “What are you doing?”