Her Muse, Lord Patrick

by Jane Charles

  “Dinner should be ready momentarily. Shall we go to the parlor and have a bit of Madeira first?” Aunt Ivy never had wine before dinner. Her aunt worried her hands together. “Traveling through that forest always puts my nerves on edge.”

  Laura followed her aunt down the steps. Perhaps a glass of wine would bring clarity, or at least help her relax. Where had Patrick gone?

  “Ah, I am glad you are both here,” her uncle said by way of greeting.

  “Good evening, Uncle Edmond.” Laura settled into a chair while her aunt poured a glass of wine. He looked more strained than he had the day before.

  “I don’t want either of you to leave the Abbey unaccompanied. Not even to go into the garden.” He flung his hand out, gesturing to the doors leading to the garden sheltered by three sides of the manor.

  The wine bottle clattered against the rim of the glass while her aunt poured. A footman rushed forward and took over.

  “Why?” Laura eyed her aunt, whose hands shook while she tried to bring the crystal to her lips.

  “It is not safe.”

  Aunt Ivy sank into a chair by her husband. “Oh dear, I was afraid of this.”

  “What?” Why weren’t they explaining anything to her?

  Her uncle turned to the footman. “Please pour Miss Chetwey a glass of wine.”

  As the footman did as he was bid, Uncle Edmond turned to Laura. “I’ve tried to shield you, not wanting to frighten you.” He took a sip from his glass. “Perhaps I should have left you at your father’s estate and never brought you here.”

  “I know all about the brigands in the forest,” Laura announced.

  He sighed. “I should have known you would learn eventually.”

  “Is that what this is about?” she asked. “I promise to stay away from the forest.”

  He shook his head. “It’s worse than that.”

  Alarm shot through Laura and she glanced at her aunt. All color had drained from Aunt Ivy’s face, and she gulped the last of her wine.

  “For the last three days there have been footprints around the Abbey.”

  “The servants?” Laura suggested hopefully.

  “No.” He took another drink of brandy as Laura accepted her glass of wine. “The footmen check the grounds every night and every morning, and throughout the day. We know they don’t belong to anyone here.”

  Tears pooled in her aunt’s eyes. “What if they try to get in?”

  Uncle Edmund grasped his wife’s hand. “It is not possible. Every entrance and window is locked and double checked throughout the day. Some of the footmen have offered to stay awake through the night, patrolling the house.

  This bit of news brought a small glimmer of relief.

  “Still, I don’t like it,” he added.

  “Neither do I,” Aunt Ivy agreed.

  “You are not to leave the confines of the Abbey unless heavily protected,” he warned both ladies.

  The footman refilled his glass. “I hate being a prisoner in my own home,” her uncle grumbled.

  Patrick bolted upright. He was back in the library, no longer in Hell. Maybe it was simply a bad dream. “More like a nightmare!”

  He swung his legs around and stood. Though why a ghost slept and dreamed was confusing. He thought spirits just floated about not needing to eat, sleep, or drink. Then again, a few days ago he hadn’t believed in ghosts.

  The room was black and silent. He wandered into the hall and then the parlor. The clock chimed three in the morning. That was more than twelve missing hours. Where had he been? Sleeping? Or, had he actually been in Hell?

  Anxiety mounted and Patrick raced up the stairs. He didn’t want to be alone. Not now. Not until he made sense of what was happening to him. He couldn’t go back to wherever he had been.

  The east wing was empty. Laura’s writing room was dark and silent like the rest of the house. He turned and rushed into the west wing and stopped outside of her door. He had promised not to enter her chamber without permission.

  But, would she know if he did?

  Certainly she was asleep and once he assured himself she was fine, his own agitation would disappear. If she were awake, he would simply explain.

  Patrick slowly stuck his head through the door. The room was dark with the exception of a bit of light from the glowing embers in the fireplace and the moon shining through the window. Laura was asleep. Patrick entered and walked to the bed. She lay on her side, blonde hair fanned out across the pillow. Long lashes caressed her pale cheeks. Full, pink lips partially open. The moonlight shone on her delicate features and he ached to touch her soft skin.

  Why couldn’t he have met her when he was still alive? Why had Blake kept her from meeting him? It wasn’t as if his reputation was questionable. He certainly would have treated Laura properly.

  His jaw clenched. Who was going to help his older brother protect them? His father was still alive and hopefully the man would continue to enjoy good health until Patrick’s sisters married. But what if he didn’t? London was full of disreputable gentlemen. Their family was more Irish than English and it could be difficult for his sisters once they did attend the Season. Patrick had intended to be present for each and every one of his three sisters to help them navigate their way through Society and make sure they were not charmed by gentlemen unworthy of them.

  Did his family even know what happened to him? Were they mourning him right now?

  The thought of not seeing his family again was too painful and Patrick returned his focus to Laura. Her breathing was even and deep. Did she dream? Did she dream of him?

  “I won’t torture myself with impossibilities.” He turned from her and wandered toward the window. The night was clear, without a cloud in the sky. Beyond the Abbey was the forest, dark and foreboding. The hair stood up on the back of his neck at the thought of being out there.

  He had many fond memories of playing in the forest with Blake in their younger days. A smile pulled his lips. For hours they ran among the trees as pirates or knights. His childhood playground offered nothing but danger and fear now.

  Shadows shifted and he strained to see into the darkness. It was a windless night so why were the trees moving? A man stepped from the woods and slowly looked in all directions before he motioned with his arm. Two more men stepped out. All three carried bags. They were full of something but Patrick couldn’t begin to guess what.

  They crept further into the yard. Patrick stiffened. Did they intend to break into the Abbey? He glanced at Laura. Should he wake her so she could alert someone?

  When he turned back, the men were gone. He debated on what he should do when two footmen stepped out into the yard. They also looked around. Relief flooded Patrick. Torrington was not taking any chances. His home was guarded. With that knowledge Patrick would worry less about Laura, but his concern would not completely disappear. She was alone in her room. What if someone did manage to break in and found her? She was far too lovely to ignore, and he didn’t even want to think about what could become of her if the brigands came upon her.

  His spine stiffened. Torrington may have the place guarded, but someone needed to watch over Laura. He returned to the side of her bed. That was his job. Nobody said he had to be a muse only. He was now Laura’s protector as well. Though he may not be able to defend her, he could at least warn her so she could scream for help if necessary. It wasn’t much, but it was the best he could do.

  Patrick bent and placed a kiss on her cheek, wishing he could feel her softness against his lips. “Sleep well, Laura.”

  Straightening, he pulled away from the bed. While she slept, he would keep watch. And, even though Torrington had servants guarding the Abbey, another set of eyes would not be remiss. With a last backward glance, he left Laura’s chamber to search the house to make sure all was secure and then he would return to guard her. This is where he would now spend his nights.

  Laura woke and glanced around the room. “Patrick?”

  She sat up. Was he here? The
room was silent and empty. “Only a dream.”

  She pulled her knees up and hugged them to her chest. Where had he gone? Would he be back? Had he moved on? Was he watching from heaven right now?

  She glanced toward the ceiling. Silly, of course. It wasn’t as if she could see into heaven. Though he was in a better place, she wished he would have remained a bit longer. Torrington Abbey was lonely without him. Even only knowing him such a short time, Laura found she missed him anyway. Emptiness remained, one she couldn’t explain. It hadn’t been there before he came, but it certainly existed now.

  It was only half past three and though she should try to get more sleep, she could not. Her mind was far too alert and she needed to stop thinking about Patrick before he drove her to Bedlam. His short stay did almost that and thinking of him served no purpose.

  If she couldn’t sleep, she might as well write. She made her way to the east wing and stopped before her desk. The novel didn’t hold near the same interest now. But, if she didn’t work on that, what would she do to keep herself entertained in the following days, weeks and months? She had started to become restless and bored before Patrick appeared. It would be tenfold now as she waited for news of Blake or sequestered herself for her period of full mourning.

  Where was Blake? Where was Patrick?

  Laura wandered to the window and glanced down into the garden below bathed in moonlight. Beyond lay the forest. With the exception of the road leading to the Abbey and the drive, trees surrounded the estate. Movement below caught her eyes. She strained to see if it was Patrick or one of the servants.

  It wasn’t either, but a strange man, carrying a heavy sack, skulking around. Laura bit her lip. Should she alert her uncle, a servant?

  She leaned closer to the glass to get a better look. He studied the building and then upward. His gaze bore into hers. Cold and hard. A chill ran up her spine and a scream lodged in her throat.

  “There ya are.”

  Laura jumped and wheeled around, afraid one of them had gotten into the house.

  Patrick rushed forward, his face taut with concern. “What’s wrong?”

  “There is a man in the garden.” She pointed behind her, afraid to move closer to the window.

  Patrick stalked toward the window. “There is nobody there.”

  Laura came up beside him. “I just saw him. He had a beard and carried a sack.”

  Patrick’s hands came up to gently grasp her upper arms. She could see them, but only felt coolness where his hands should be. “Did he see ya?”

  “Yes.” She shivered. “He looked right at me.”

  “Bloody hell.”

  “Stay away from the windows from now on,” Patrick ordered.

  “I intend to.” Laura sank onto the chair at her desk.

  Patrick continued to watch out the window. A thief and potential murderer now knew a beautiful young lady lived in this abbey. Were the miscreants’ activities limited, or were they not above kidnapping? He didn’t even want to think about what could happen to Laura if they got their hands on her. “I am not even sure ya should ever be alone. Not now.”

  “Uncle assured me they could not get into the house.”

  Patrick sank onto his haunches before her. “They can’t.” He thought to tell her he had seen three leaving the woods earlier but didn’t want to frighten her more than she already was. “I’ve been wanderin’ the house, lookin’ for ways in which someone might break in.”

  “There are supposed to be footmen awake too.”

  “There are. I saw a few outside and others are positioned in different areas of the house.”

  Laura sighed and looked up at him. “I wish I would have stayed in my own home, where I know I’m safe.”

  Patrick ached to comfort her. “But then we would never have met.”

  A smile pulled at her lips. “That would have been a shame.” She brought her hand up and laid it against his cheek, careful to let it rest and not sink into his form.

  Patrick closed his eyes and absorbed her warmth.

  “I only wish we could have met when you were alive.”

  He opened his eyes and looked deeply into hers. “As do I.” A longing to kiss her gripped him. To have the opportunity to mold her lips to his, hold her in his arms, was a wish never to be granted.

  Laura parted her lips and her tongue darted out, moistening them, as if anticipating his needs, or reading his mind. Patrick leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers. Hers were warm, soft. He may be able to move through doors and walls, and not be able to grasp simple objects, but he could feel her softness. Laura gasped and then sighed. He took her breath, drawing it in, wanting to fill his lungs so he could breathe again, live again.

  He pulled back. The ache in his chest deepened with the knowledge that the one woman who may have completed his life would be denied to him forever. She would leave him one day. Go off to London, meet a gentleman, marry and have children while he was left to wander Torrington Abbey for eternity.

  “Your lips are cold.”

  “Yours are soft and warm.”

  “I wish you could hold me.” She glanced down as a blush rose to her cheeks.

  “Ah, what I wouldn’t give to have ya in my arms.”

  A tear slid down her cheek. “You don’t think I’m silly?”

  “No.”

  Laura blinked up at him and Patrick brought his mouth to hers again, molded them the best he could. If this was their only physical contact, he would take advantage of it as often as possible.

  When he pulled back, Laura grinned. “I never dreamed my first kiss would be from a ghost.”

  Her words made his heart ache all the more. “Ah, Laura, if I could, I would kiss ya much more thoroughly. So deeply your toes would tingle.”

  She shivered and brought her wrapper tight around her body. Unfortunately, instead of warmth, he could only give her coldness.

  “Where did you go?” she asked. “I searched for you and couldn’t find you anywhere.” She bit her bottom lip and looked down. “I thought perhaps you had moved on.”

  Patrick placed a finger under her chin, but instead of it lifting her face as he intended, it passed through her delicate jawline.

  Laura glanced up through thick lashes; the question still lingered. Dare he tell her that he had been in Hell? He wasn’t certain if that were the case or if it was only a nightmare. He didn’t want to cause her to worry. “I was asleep, I believe. I was with your uncle one moment, restin’ on the couch in the library, and the next thing I am wakin’ there, over twelve hours later.”

  A small frown formed; she blew out a sigh and relaxed her shoulders. Had she been so terribly worried about him? Would she miss him as much as he would her once he was gone? Though he wished he were alive, he would rather be with Laura as a ghost than be pulled away, never to see her again.

  Patrick settled back on his heels and stared at her. He had enjoyed the company of women in the past, but never so much that he didn’t wish to be parted from them. He couldn’t imagine not seeing Laura every day.

  A log rolled and thumped in the fireplace, sending sparks flying, and pulled Patrick from his thoughts. Silence engulfed them and Patrick realized how very alone they were in the east wing. He stood. “I think ya should return to your room. It isn’t wise to be in an empty part of the house in the middle of the night.”

  Laura came to her feet and looked around the room. “I am not alone.”

  “I cannot protect ya.” It pained him to say the words, but they were true. If the wretches broke into this room right now, he would be helpless to defend her. She might as well have a newborn babe guarding her for all the help he could be. “Durin’ the day there are enough servants about. But at night, you are virtually alone and vulnerable. Nobody could hear ya even if ya screamed.”

  She swallowed. “I suppose you’re right.” Laura bent to turn out the lamps before walking to the fireplace. She stirred the embers and moved the grate back into place.

&n
bsp; “I don’t think ya need to worry about sparks.”

  “No one can attend it.”

  “I will check. If something happens I will alert ya.”

  Laura nodded and put the poker with the fireplace tools.

  Patrick eyed it. “Keep it.”

  She tightened her grip. “Pardon?”

  “Keep that with ya. If someone should break in and come after ya, you will have a weapon.”

  Worry etched her brow. “Do you really think they will break in?”

  Patrick shrugged. “They shouldn’t be able to get into the house, but I would rather not take any chances.” He also knew that if someone wanted something badly enough, they would find a way to get to it. One of the miscreants had seen her tonight. The man would have to be dead not to want her. Yet even death didn’t bring a halt to the wanting.

  Together they walked back to her suite of rooms. When Patrick paused at the threshold, she turned. “Please, come in.”

  He grinned and entered.

  She narrowed her eyes and wagged at finger at him. “This doesn’t mean you can come and go as you please.” She leaned the poker against the small table beside her bed. “I do require privacy upon occasion.”

  “Of course.” The smile never left his face. If he were alive, he would have never been allowed into her chambers. Being dead did have a few benefits. Not that he could do all the things he wished with Laura. Still, being in her presence did bring a peace he didn’t experience when she wasn’t around.

  Laura shrugged out of her robe and kicked off her slippers before climbing into bed. She covered a yawn with her left hand. “I suppose I am more tired than I realized.”

  Patrick wanted nothing more than to climb in beside Laura and pull her into his arms. “I shall leave ya.”

  “Please don’t.” She bit her upper lip for a moment before she spoke. “I don’t want to be alone.” She looked way. “I’m afraid.”

  Even though he offered little protection, if any. At least she found security with him. “I will be right here when ya wake.”

  “Thank you.” Laura lay back down, turned onto her side to face the poker and pulled the covers up to her chin. Patrick wandered to the opposite side of the room where he had a view of her back, and sank down into a cushioned chair. Watching her face while she slept would only cause his ache for her to deepen.