Her Muse, Lord Patrick

by Jane Charles

  “You don’t think we would leave without tying you up, do you?” He laughed as one of the younger ones came forward. He wrapped a rope tightly around her ankles and another about her wrists.

  The one who wanted to keep her winked and disappeared into the darkness.

  Patrick leapt from the horse when they arrived at Torrington’s door and his knees nearly buckled at the impact. He grasped the saddle and pulled himself upright. After he saved Laura he could rest, but not a moment before. He had to push through this pain and weakness, no matter the consequences to his own health.

  It was going to be dark soon and the bandits could leave again. How long had he been gone? It had been so hard to keep track of time in his death state. He had no idea what time it had been when he and Laura had gone to the cellar.

  He rushed to the entrance. Cavan and the others followed, reaching him as he pounded on the door until it was opened by Lord Torrington’s butler.

  The staid older man stood back, disgust on his features until recognition lit in his eyes. “Lord Patrick?”

  “Aye, Colburn,” he said as he pushed past the man. “Where is Torrington? I need footmen and we need to get to the cellar.”

  Lady Torrington came from the parlor, a handkerchief clutched in her hand. “Lord Patrick, what happened to you?”

  He didn’t have time to explain. “I’ll tell ya later. Laura is in danger.”

  “Laura?”

  Patrick glanced up to find Blake standing in the middle of the stairs. Where had he come from?

  “What do you know of my sister? She has been missing for hours.” Blake glanced past Patrick. His brow marred with confusion. “Cavan? What are you and your brothers doing with Patrick?”

  Happiness burst at seeing that Blake was well and had returned, but he didn’t have time for a reunion just yet. “Laura went to the cellars earlier today to explore. The three men who have been terrorizin’ the area are livin’ down there.”

  Blake frowned. “How did they get in without anyone knowing?”

  “I thought that door was sealed shut,” Torrington roared as he came down the hall.

  “Take men to the entrance,” Patrick ordered to Torrington. “We will go down the stairs and trap them.”

  “How do you know they have Laura?” Lady Torrington cried.

  Patrick wished he could explain but time was of the essence. “I’ll tell ya when she’s safe.”

  Blake started down the stairs as Patrick moved forward. “The door at the back parlor is sealed.” He looked back to Torrington. “We need weapons.”

  “I’ve got my gun,” Cavan said.

  “As do I,” answered Blake.

  Colburn rushed down the hall to Torrington’s study and returned a moment later with a pistol to him.

  “Thank ya.” He nodded.

  Blake turned and headed back up the stairs.

  Cavan ordered his two brothers to go with Torrington before he pounded up the stairs behind him. Blake moved quickly into the east wing and Cavan passed Patrick. Damn he was weak and it was becoming difficult to take a deep breath. At least Blake and Cavan were here. They would save Laura, even if he couldn’t.

  Blake opened the door slowly and turned to Patrick. “Where are they?”

  “Toward the center, right beyond where the east wing ends,” he said. “Once ya reach the bottom, walk straight ahead.”

  Cavan reached for one of the lamps hanging on the wall.

  “No, we can’t light our way,” Patrick insisted.

  “It’s black as pitch down there,” Blake insisted.

  “And they will see the light and know we are comin’.”

  Cavan replaced the lamp. “Then you lead the way.”

  Patrick went around the two and slowly descended the curved stone steps, his fingers following along the wall until he reached the bottom. He stared straight ahead and could barely make out a light if he squinted. “Stay close so we don’t get separated,” he whispered. “And try not to make a sound.”

  They edged toward the light, keeping their steps light and quiet. Cavan and Blake moved away the nearer they came to the area where Ben had set up his camp.

  Ben and his cohorts were moving toward the door and Patrick looked for Laura, afraid of what he would find.

  She was tied on the bed, leaning against a wall, eyes wide and watching him. A smile spread on her beautiful mouth when she saw Blake.

  Patrick quickly brought a finger to his lips. He didn’t want Laura to alert Ben and the others to their presence. She probably didn’t realize he wasn’t a ghost any longer. Blood flowed through his veins. His heart beat for her and he was ready to exact revenge on Ben Skrewd.

  “We’ll be back,” Ben barked as he turned back to Laura.

  Ben’s eyes grew wide when he caught sight of Patrick, and probably Blake and Cavan as well. He grasped a knife. “Orlan and Royden, get back here.”

  Patrick’s heart ceased and he rushed forward, fearing they couldn’t reach Ben before he harmed Laura. Scuffling, grunts and then a gun shot came from behind Ben.

  The man jerked to a stop, his mouth agape in shock.

  Patrick grinned at the look of panic on Ben’s face and the way his eyes shifted in one direction and then the other, looking for an escape. “There is nowhere to go.”

  Ben growled and lifted a gun Patrick had not noticed. Before the man could level it on Laura, Patrick raised his own weapon and shot, striking Ben in the shoulder. The man crumpled to the ground in a cry of pain.

  Cavan and Blake rushed past him. Patrick didn’t care whether the man lived or died. If he survived the wound, he would eventually hang from the gallows. Laura was more important.

  She couldn’t believe her eyes. Blake was back and he had Cavan with him. Though Laura didn’t really know Cavan, she had been introduced to him at church. The third man, with a thick dark beard, was a stranger to her. It didn’t matter who he was if he was going to help her out of this situation.

  At the report of the gun, Laura jerked back and looked for her rescuers. The stranger with Blake rushed forward, seated himself before her and reached for her hands.

  Laura pulled back at his familiarity.

  Confusion marred his brow. “Don’t ya know me?” There was an edge of alarm in his tone.

  She studied him closely and her heart nearly ceased when she looked into the blue-gray eyes of Patrick. She blinked and looked again. He appeared whole, flesh and blood. Laura brought her hands to his face; the unfamiliar dark beard along his jawline was rough against her fingertips. How was this possible? She glanced to the movement beside him. Were he and Blake both ghosts, here to help? Or were they alive? Why hadn’t Patrick had a beard the last time she had seen him? It took a man several days to grow a beard, didn’t it? “I don’t understand.”

  “It doesn’t matter right now,” Patrick said, barely a moment before a strong, warm arm came around her and pulled her close.

  Tears swam in Laura’s eyes and she choked out a sob. “I can’t believe you are here.”

  He pulled back. “I promise never to leave ya again. I thought my heart stopped when Ben struck you. It was enough to jerk me out of my state.”

  “State?”

  Patrick shook his head and looked down as he tried to work the knot of the rope tied around her wrist. “Apparently, I was never dead but unconscious in a house not far away.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said again as she shook out her hands when the rope fell away. Her fingers tingled with tiny needles of pain as the feeling came back to them.

  “I don’t either.” He moved to until the rope around her ankles. “I do remember it was those three who attacked me in the forest when I was on my way to see ya. They beat me and tossed me in the river.”

  Laura gasped. “Then you nearly did die.”

  He nodded and then reached for her.

  Laura needed no further encouragement. In the blink of an eye she was in Patrick’s arms. Solid, warm and alive. She close
d her eyes and gave into the joy of being given what she thought would never be possible. A moment later she tilted her head back and smiled at him. “I love you,” she whispered.

  Patrick lowered his mouth to hers and Laura finally knew the feeling of his strong, warm, and very much alive, lips. Thank goodness she was sitting because the contact made her nearly swoon. His kisses before had warmed her, but now he ignited something in her she didn’t recognize. She never wanted this moment to end.

  “Explain to me exactly how and when you met my sister,” Blake demanded.

  Laura and Patrick jerked apart, but he kept a hand anchored at her waist. She turned to look at her brother. Perhaps she should be embarrassed by the way she had just carried on with Patrick, but she was too happy to have him by her side to care what anyone thought of her.

  “My aunt and uncle assured me that you never arrived, Patrick. If that is true, I can’t believe you would take such liberties at a first meeting. Or, were you hit over the head harder than anyone realized.”

  “I shall explain upstairs, as soon as we get your sister out of here.” Patrick stood and offered his hand to Laura.

  She reached for it as confusion masked Patrick’s face. He stumbled to the side and swayed right before his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed.

  Laura paced at the foot of the bed where Patrick had been placed after he passed out. That had been last night and he still had not awakened. What if he remained unconscious for another week, as he had at Cavan’s house? Was he leaving his body now and visiting another place? Was this his destiny until his body did die?

  She couldn’t bear to think it.

  “Tell me the truth of how you met Patrick,” Blake demanded once again.

  Her brother wouldn’t believe her no matter how many times she told him of their encounters. Maybe Blake would believe Patrick, if he ever woke!

  “Did you meet him in London? Did he visit the estate when I was not present?” Blake stood and walked to the window. “Tell me, Laura, because I certainly don’t believe the story you have woven and I know the two of you better than to think either of you would share such a kiss and embrace without ever having met.”

  “I have told you the truth.” She wheeled on him. “What you haven’t told me, however, was why you didn’t come back when you said you would.”

  Blake took a step back. “Patrick never told you.”

  “He was unconscious at Cavan’s house,” she reminded him.

  “And he couldn’t tell you while he haunted you?” Blake demanded skeptically.

  “He couldn’t remember,” she bit out. How many times did she need to explain? “Why don’t you believe me?”

  “Because it is a fanciful story, and I won’t stop until I get the truth.” He took a step forward. “If he compromised you in any way…”

  Laura blew out a breath. “Ask Patrick when he wakes.” She whirled away, too aggravated with him. Of course, it was an unbelievable story and she would be just as skeptical had she not experienced it. Still, her own brother should believe her. “In the meantime, tell me what kept you so long.”

  Blake lifted a cup of tea to his lips and took a drink. “First, our departure was delayed a month.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “You could have written.”

  “Not from a prison cell.”

  Her eyes widened. “What happened?”

  He grimaced. “A young lady, who also happened to be a relation to the governor of Barbados, claimed her child was mine.”

  Laura eyed him. “Is she unmarried?”

  He snorted. “She was at the time.” He tilted the cup again and she waited for him to continue.

  “She kept showing up in places where I was. Not places a young lady should venture, such as the room I had been given at Mark Easton’s plantation. She wanted me to take her back to England.”

  “What does that have to do with you being in a cell?”

  Blake sighed. “When her family learned she was in an interesting condition, she claimed me to be the father. When I denied having anything to do with her disgrace, the governor trumped up charges of theft against me and tossed me in prison. He would only release me if I married the chit.”

  Why would any woman want someone who clearly didn’t want them? She sank into a chair and swallowed past the discomfort of what her brother had endured. “You didn’t marry her, did you?”

  “No, and I wasn’t about to.” He took another drink. “Patrick saved me. He learned it was impossible for me to have fathered the child because the condition came about at least a month before we were ever in port.”

  Laura sagged with relief. She would have hated for her brother to be forced into marriage with such a conniver. “Why did Patrick come back without you, if he managed to get you free?”

  “I became sick after boarding the ship for home.”

  “What was wrong?”

  “Malaria.”

  Her heart hitched. “You had Malaria? You could have died!”

  “I almost did.” Blake finished his tea and set the cup aside. “Patrick refused to leave until he knew I would recover. I insisted Patrick return home to tell you what had become of me and that I would sail home as soon as the doctor considered me sufficiently recovered.” He shook his head. “I didn’t want to write you because I didn’t want to worry you.”

  “Because having no word for months wouldn’t have caused me any concern,” she said dryly. Then again, had he written, she wouldn’t have left her family estate to come to Torrington Abbey. She wouldn’t have been here when Patrick arrived. There would have been nobody for him to talk to.

  Laura turned toward the bed and watched him sleep. Had Patrick gone to the estate in Cheshire first and not found her there? She straightened. If she had remained home, he may have found her there and then he wouldn’t have any need to go to Torrington, and would have never been set upon by the bandits.

  She sank down on the foot of the bed. Her heart ached, wishing Patrick would awaken. He would not have been nearly killed had she remained home. Good heavens, he could still perish.

  She quickly turned her face before Blake saw the tears swimming in her eyes. He didn’t understand how Patrick came to mean so much to her. He was her heart.

  Until she knew for certain where Patrick had been before coming to Torrington, she would not think on it further. Laura rubbed her forehead. There were too many possibilities of what might or might not have happened had Blake not been imprisoned and then become ill.

  She glanced at his slumbering face again. Her uncle’s valet had shaved the nearly weeks’ growth of beard from his face and Patrick now looked as he had appeared before he gained consciousness. None of the reasons or possibilities of how they came to this moment mattered. He was alive and he was going to survive. She would make sure of it.

  Patrick opened his eyes, almost afraid of what he might find. At least it wasn’t hot, just warm. The bed was comfortable and there was a scent of lilacs in the air. “Laura?”

  “I’m here.” Her beautiful face appeared above his, golden curls falling about her. “How are you feeling?” she asked with a smile.

  “Tired, I think.” He stretched and stopped at the pull in his arm. “Sore.”

  “You mustn’t move too much,” she chastised. “Your arm is broken and needs to heal.”

  “How?”

  “Probably when you were attacked.”

  The memory flooded back. “Aye, the attack.” He remembered everything. It all seemed so unreal and he wasn’t entirely certain it hadn’t all been a dream. Patrick struggled to sit up. It was deuced difficult with pain slicing through one arm.

  Blake came around the opposite side of the bed and assisted him, careful of his injury. Laura piled pillows behind him and Patrick lay against the softness with a sigh. “Might I have something to drink?”

  She moved away from him and he almost called her back. Blake could get the bloody drink. He didn’t want Laura out of his sight. She returne
d a moment later and offered him a glass of water.

  He drank, moistening his mouth and throat. “What happened to the thieves?”

  “All three have been taken into Tolbright for the authorities to deal with,” Blake answered.

  Patrick nodded. He no longer cared, as long as they were away from here and eventually hanged for their crimes.

  “Now that you are awake, why don’t you explain how you know my sister and why you thought it acceptable to take such liberties?” Blake glared down at him and crossed his arms over his chest.

  Patrick’s face heated as he looked to Laura. It wasn’t that he was embarrassed by what he had done, but he anticipated Blake’s reaction to the truth. The past days were so unreal and Patrick wasn’t sure what was a dream and what truly did happen.

  “Don’t bother him right now, Blake,” Laura argued. “Patrick needs to eat. You can question him later.”

  “I don’t think so, sister.” Blake shook his head. “You told a rather fanciful story. I am not about to give you time to tell Patrick so he can try to make me believe it is true to keep me from calling him out.”

  She gasped. “You wouldn’t.”

  Blake arched an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t I? He was holding and kissing you as if intimacy was something you had shared before.”

  “Ya don’t understand,” Patrick insisted.

  “At least let him eat before you interrogate him as you did me.” Laura strode across the room and yanked on the bell pull.

  Brother and sister glared at each other until there was a scratch at the door. Laura opened the door and allowed a maid to enter. She place the tray on a small table beside the window. Laura dismissed her and picked up a bowl and spoon then returned to the side of the bed.

  “I can feed myself,” Patrick grunted when she dipped the spoon and lifted it to his lips.

  “Very well.” She sighed and left him to feed himself. The savory richness of gravy, meat, potatoes and carrots wafted up to him and his stomach grumbled in anticipation.

  “What took you so long to get here?” Blake asked after he had taken his first bite. “You left Barbados in October.”