“Of course not,” she laughed. “God help you if my father caught us now.”
“Mm, interesting,” he murmured, pushing her backwards, sliding his hand along her waist.
Angelica looked up at him, her dark eyes full of trust. Patrick’s loins contracted with his desire for her, and he swallowed hard to keep control of it. Leaning in slowly, he cupped his left hand around the back of her head, while holding himself up with his right. Her lips were soft and warm against his when he kissed her again. His wolf senses soon picked up the smell of her arousal, and her hands came up, twisting her fingers through his hair. With a heavy sigh, he took her in his arms and sat upright.
“Patrick, don’t stop.”
The disappointment in her voice broke his heart.
“Never, my love,” he kissed her again, “but it is getting late, and your father will come looking for you. Let us do this right. Another time, another place.”
Angelica’s dark eyes looked like they would overflow with tears, but a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “I can agree to that if you promise not to let me wait too long.”
Patrick hugged her close to him, nuzzling her neck, breathing in her sweet perfume. “Soon, my love. Tomorrow is Sunday. Will your parents be at church?”
She shook her head. “They don’t go anymore. But my father is planning a trip to the London next week.”
“Will you be going?”
“No, my mother and I will stay here.”
“I can work with that,” he said grinning. “Come; let us have tea together in the parlour. I am sure your father is already suspicious of our absence.”
Angelica giggled and took his hand, walking up the path through the orchard beside him.
A gentle wind blew through the branches, caressing the back of Patrick’s hair, but far from making him feel at ease, it alerted all his senses. His blood froze in his veins as he sensed the beast within the orchard.
Chapter 6
With a sudden yank, Angelica pulled her hand free of his. Patrick turned, ready to defend her from the beast he could feel stalking the orchard.
“We were just coming for tea, Father,” Angelica said hastily.
“You should not be out here by yourselves. Master Patrick, let this be a warning. If I catch you unsupervised with my daughter again, it will be the last time you will see her. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Sir. I was only keeping her safe, Sir. She should not be out here alone, Sir.”
Angelica gave him an accusing stare; the fire in her eyes flaring briefly.
“Indeed, Patrick,” Lord Alaric hissed, “but who will keep her safe from you? You shall amend your manners, or I shall revoke my consent.”
“Yes, Sir. Of course, Sir. Please, accept my humble apology.”
Alaric huffed and turned to his daughter. One look into her large, dark eyes and her father’s demeanour softened. “You may have tea together, but then it is time for your studies, Angelica.”
“Yes, Father. Thank you.”
“I am telling you, Father, it was the same sensation as when I met the beast in the forest. I have never felt anything like it before.”
Edward looked at him thoughtfully, considering his son’s words. “I should scold you for the less than gentlemanly behaviour with Lord Alaric’s daughter.” He paused. “I have worked for the man for many years, Patrick. He may be many things, but he is no monster. There must be another explanation for this.”
“I don’t know what that could be. I felt no other presence within the orchard but ours.”
“Maybe it was simply a sense of imminent danger you felt. Clouded by your infatuation with the girl, you may have misread the signals.”
“Perhaps, Father,” Patrick said, but he didn’t believe it.
“Besides, was Lord Alaric not with you during the time Alexander Smythe was killed?”
“He was.”
“Then how can it be him? I am telling you, Patrick, you are mistaken in suspecting Lord Alaric.”
Conceding that his father had a point, Patrick surrendered the argument. He didn’t have much time left before he had to report back to Dorien Lowell, and Patrick still wanted to speak with his mother.
Seeking her out, he found her cleaning her rifle in her sewing room.
“Such a lady-like task you have set yourself today, Mother.”
“I trust no one else to do this; except maybe for your father,” she replied.
“Has your life always been like this?” he asked.
“Like what, Patrick?”
“You ride, you hunt, and you clean your own weapons. You can do all the tasks a man can do. You are an extraordinary woman, Mother.”
She blushed. “Nonsense,” she waved him off, “but living the life we do, a woman has to adapt. It isn’t always easy to be the wife of a werewolf.”
Patrick was silent for a moment, watching her work. Her fingers moved swiftly and confidently; handling the weapon as other women would their needles.
“Do you think Angelica would be suited to such a life?”
His mother paused in her polishing and looked up at him. “It is a difficult question for me to answer, Patrick. I have known the girl all her life and had you asked me this question two years ago, I would have said yes without hesitation.”
“What has changed?”
“Her mother,” she said. “Angelica has continued to grow ever more beautiful and educated, but her mother has become withdrawn and secretive.”
“I thought they said that about Angelica, and not about Mary,” Patrick replied, confused.
“Yes, that is Mary’s doing. There is nothing wrong with Angelica, except that she is an exceptionally bright child. It is Mary that is acting strange, and who you should be wary of.”
“I shall heed your advice.”
“Now, about the girl. Does she feel the same about you, as you do about her?”
“I believe so, Mother.”
“Then let nothing stand in the way of your love. I have never regretted the decision to marry your father.”
“Thank you.” Patrick took her hands in his. “You are the strongest woman I know.”
The men ate their dinner at the crowded inn, before embarking on their nightly patrol. After the uneventful night before, the men were in a jovial mood and teased Angus about falling off his horse.
They kept the patrol within a ten-mile radius around the town, but the night passed without incident.
For three more days and nights, Patrick had to endure the ritual of the nightly patrols and the torture of supervised tea with Angelica during the day.
When he rode up to Ashford Manor on Wednesday, Jasper greeted him at the steps.
“Miss Angelica has gone out for a ride. She should be back within an hour, or you may find her along the river.”
“Has Lord Alaric accompanied Miss Angelica?”
“No, the Lord has left for the city, Sir, and won’t be back for another week.”
“Thank you, Jasper.”
With his pulse racing and his horse prancing beneath him, Patrick rode back down the gravelly path. Once he reached the open field on the other side of the estate, he gave the stallion his head.
Patrick thought he knew where Angelica was. Down by the river, there was an old boat shed they had visited as children. Their parents used to picnic there on hot summer days and take the rowboats down the river.
As he approached the tall trees that nestled around the dock, he slowed his horse. The path wound between the trees for a hundred yards before it reached the river. Unused and forgotten, the boat shed, and the dock was overgrown with weeds, and Patrick struggled to find it at first.
When he got closer, the stallion lifted his head, ears pricked forward. A soft whinny greeted them as Angelica’s horse saw them coming.
Sitting on a blanket, with her feet dangling over the edge of the dock, Angelica smiled up at him as he got off his horse and tied him alongside her gelding.
; “Should you be riding out all by yourself, Miss Angelica?” he scolded her, sitting beside her, and pulling her close.
“Of course not, Master Patrick. Someone could take advantage of me while I am out all alone.”
He felt her hot breath on his face. “And what would you do then?”
“I’d have to call for help.”
“Would you?”
He did not wait for her reply as he leaned in to kiss her, pressing her slender body close to his. The smell of her sweet perfume intoxicated him.
“Help,” Angelica whispered when he gave her a chance to breathe.
“I’ll save you, Miss,” he murmured, gently pushing her down on the blanket.
Patrick was sorely tested in his patience, for he did not want to hurt her, yet he did not think he could wait for much longer. He desired her more than he had any other woman. She looked up at him with such trusting eyes; it near broke his heart. Gently, he kissed her again, trailing her contours below her dress with his right hand.
Angelica arched her back at his touch, and it stiffened his arousal. He buried his head in her dark hair, nuzzling her neck, while moving his hand down to her buttocks, and pressing her close to him. She moaned when she felt his readiness, and grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head up so he could kiss her again.
Leaning on his left arm, he moved half his body over hers, letting her feel his weight, and his arousal. With his right hand, he held her buttocks, pressing her to him, moving with slow motions. Patrick wished for a soft bed, instead of the hard planks of the dock, but when Angelica’s moans became shorter, more urgent, he soon forgot about it.
All his plans to take it slow with her, and be gentle, came to nought when she took his hand and moved it beneath her skirts. To his utter delight, he discovered she wore no underclothes, and she was more than ready for him. Delving deep into the soft, moist folds with his middle finger, he toyed with her, teasing her.
Beautiful, innocent, untouched - he revelled in the delight that he was the first to touch her, pleasure her. He played with her node, making her buck beneath his hand.
Hiding his face within her hair, he tried hard to control himself as she moaned and cried out with pleasure. When she quivered, and he could feel the heat swell within her, a low growl escaped him.
When she finally lay spent, she looked up at him with wide eyes. He leaned down and kissed her gently, thinking he had done right by her for their first time together.
A sharp pain in his lip made him open his eyes. She had bitten him. Angelica’s eyes flashed brightly at him when he looked at her, and renewed arousal surged through him instantly.
Hastily, Angelica reached down to undo the buttons of his trousers. Tearing them off in a hurry, Patrick lifted Angelica’s skirts and nestled himself between her legs.
She clawed at him, drawing him to her. It took all his strength to resist her, to take it slow, not to hurt her. Easing his way in, feeling the barrier, he thrust through it.
Angelica cried out in pain, then in pleasure. One hand cradling her head, the other firmly holding her hip, he moved her body in rhythm to his, sliding in, and out, with long, powerful strokes.
There was no holding back now; she took everything he was giving and gave it right back. Like a wildcat, Angelica clawed at him, making him cry out in pleasurable pain when she bit his neck.
Her wildness finally threw him over the edge. Pumping hard, he gave her everything he had. Her moans accompanied his thrusting, until he lay spent, still cradling her head.
“All these patrols have come to nought,” Dorien reported, handing Lord Alaric a piece of paper. “We have seen no trace of man, or beast, out there.”
“What you are saying,” Alaric’s voice came out low, and dangerous, “is that because you have found nothing in three weeks, you want us to abandon the protection of the town?”
Patrick watched the two men, who had been arguing for twenty minutes already, glower at each other. Each had a point, but could not come to an agreement.
“You know it is not, Albert. I put the safety of this town before anything else, but we cannot keep these men from their jobs forever.”
“Is it wages they need?” Alaric asked, raising his eyebrows. “I will personally pay them if that is what it takes.”
Patrick saw the frustration on Dorien’s face build. “It’s not merely about the money. These men have families.”
“Families they are trying to protect, Dorien. What else would you have us do?”
For the first time that evening, Patrick saw a glimmer of hope in Dorien’s eyes. The mayor’s shoulders relaxed as he phrased his next answer carefully.
“I have a cousin in London who is in the employ of the Metropolitan Police. We could request the assistance of law officers at no charge to us.”
The room fell silent. Alaric’s face darkened, and Patrick thought the man might faint. Dorien’s relaxed stance shifted, now gripping the back of the chair he stood behind.
“Outsiders?” Alaric finally blew. “You want to bring outsiders into our town? That is preposterous. I will have none of it.”
“It could be the perfect solution,” Dorien tried again.
“These people would know nothing about our town. They don’t know these woods or even our history. We cannot put the safety of our families into the hands of strangers we don’t even know we can trust. Who is to say that whoever is committing these atrocities is not an outsider himself?”
The mood around the room became darker by the minute. Patrick heard murmurs of agreement to Alaric’s comment about strangers in town, and he knew Dorien had lost his argument.
“No outsiders,” Dorien conceded, “but the men need to be paid. They can also not carry on working the way they have. I will implement rotating working hours, so they get to spend time with their families.”
Alaric thin lips tightened into a smile. “I knew you would see the light, Dorien. Please make the arrangements, and then come to see me about the funds you require.”
Without further ado, Alaric stomped out, leaving the rest of the men looking after him in silence. Sighing, Dorien sat at his mayoral table and put his head in his hands.
“You men go home,” the mayor finally said. “I’ll have this ready by tonight. Meet with me at six.”
The men shuffled out, but Patrick waited for them to leave before approaching Dorien. “I will help if I may. I know the men well, and I might be of use.”
Dorien looked up. “Thank you, Patrick; your offer is welcome, indeed. Have you nowhere to be?”
“My parents are out of town today,” he replied. “I have the time.”
“Very well. Let’s get to it.”
Patrick had more than one reason for helping Dorien. He did know the men well, and he had a rare insight into Lord Alaric’s finances. What he desired most right this moment, though, was a distraction.
Angelica had accompanied her mother to her aunt’s house, and they would not be back until tomorrow. After having learned there was a fiery vixen within the shy exterior of his cherry blossom, he could not get enough of her. Patrick did not know how she managed to sneak out of the house, but he cared little once he held her in his arms.
“To be honest, Patrick, I think whatever killed those two men has already moved on. I will do as Albert ordered, but only for another month. If there are no more incidents, I will disband the group.”
“Let us pray, then that you are correct.”
“I will put you in charge of the first team and Richard in charge of the other. This is dangerous work, Patrick. What should we be paying these men?”
“Indeed, it is, Dorien. Fair remuneration is in order.”
With the division of the team and the new working hours, the men were able to move back to their families. Patrick was glad to be home, although his mother now took note of his frequent absences.
“Is Mary aware of how often you see her daughter, Patrick?” Lillian asked him one morning before he left to vi
sit Angelica.
“More often than not, she isn’t, Mother.”
“It is as I thought, then. Take care, Patrick. Lord Alaric is a strict man. It would do you well to play this one by the book if this is what you want for the future.”
Patrick ground his jaw. “Aye, Mother.”
He knew she was right. If he and Angelica were ever found out, they would be forbidden ever to see each other again. They would have no future together. They had been careful, but for how long would their luck last? The thought of telling Angelica they had to amend their ways angered him beyond words. Why could he not only be with her?
Lord Alaric would not allow Patrick to marry her unless Patrick had a steady form of income and a respectable job. It was not enough that Patrick was the son of a lord, earning a bounty hunter’s wages.
After handing his horse to Jasper, he thoughtfully climbed the stairs, wondering how to broach the subject.
When the butler led him into the sitting room, and Angelica greeted him there, he needn’t have worried about it. Angelica sat on the sofa with a deep scowl on her face, words at the ready.
“Is it love you have for me, Patrick?”
“Angelica,” he rushed to her side, but waited for the butler to leave before taking her hand, “you know I love you.”
“Do I? What is love, then, Patrick? For, as far as I can tell, love is nothing but lust and sex. Desires of the flesh.”
“I thought you enjoyed those desires.”
“I did,” she admitted, “but if that is all that love is, then I am disappointed. There are people in this world that will engage in such activities for the sport of it, without the mention of love. How is ours any different from theirs?”
Patrick stared at her flushed cheeks and glowing eyes. She was stunning when she felt passionate about something. Except, in this case, she made no sense.
“Angelica,” he knelt before her, “if it were not for our circumstances, I would marry you today. I would make a home for you, and treat you as my lady every day of our lives. It is but for this situation, and our stolen moments, that our relationship has developed such.”
Playing With Fire Page 53