Her Muse, Lord Patrick

by Jane Charles

  “We were plagued by storms that tossed us about and got us off course twice,” he answered between spoonfuls of stew. “That isn’t the best time to be sailin’ around the Caribbean, as ya know.” He lifted a piece of bread and bit into it. He wasn’t going to let Blake’s questions keep him from eating. Nothing had ever tasted this delicious before. “The last storm caused a good deal of damage and we practically drifted into Bermuda for repairs.” He shoveled another bit of stew into his mouth and tried to keep from moaning over the delicious burst of spices on his tongue. “I finally found another ship to bring me to England, but I didn’t leave the island until the first of the year.” He ate the last bit of bread. He would have saved it for wiping the gravy out of the bowl, but as Laura was beside him, he didn’t want to appear an impolite beast. “I traveled to Liverpool and once we arrived, I rented a horse and rode to Cheshire.”

  “Why not London?” Laura asked.

  “Liverpool is closer to your home. I had already been delayed. I anticipated that Blake may have already arrived, but in the event he hadn’t, I didn’t want to risk ya not knowin’ what had become of your brother.” Patrick scooped the last of the stew from the bowl.

  Laura took the bowl and spoon from him and returned with another glass of water. He gulped as if he had been stranded in the dessert.

  “Now that you have eaten, explain your relationship to my sister.” Blake demanded. His voice tinged with animosity.

  Patrick sighed. “Ya will think me mad,” he warned.

  “Your version couldn’t be any more ridiculous than what Laura told me.”

  He chuckled and then told Blake how he had been attacked in the forest, how he had come to Torrington Abbey, and in what form, and everything up until they rescued Laura. Blake’s expression had gone from stern, to disbelief, to wariness and finally dumbfounded by the time Patrick had finished. He did leave out the one pertinent detail of seeing Laura in her towel, damp and fresh from her bath. He had been struck enough this month.

  “It is the same as what Laura said,” Blake finally admitted.

  “And you were assured by your aunt and uncle that I was never here prior to that time?” Patrick questioned.

  “Cavan said you had been in a bed in their house for nearly a week,” Blake confirmed in disbelief. “I don’t understand.”

  “Neither do I.” Patrick shrugged with his less painful arm.

  They turned to Laura.

  She held up her hands. “I have no explanation either.” Laura returned her attention to Patrick and grasped his hand. “You could have died in the forest. There are five bodies buried in the cemetery in town, three unknown, who had met a similar fate.” She squeezed his hand. “I feared one of them might be you, but Aunt Ivy wouldn’t allow us to remain in town so I could see the sketches and death masks that were made before the men were buried.”

  “Death masks?” Blake questioned.

  “So hopefully the men could be identified one day. It was all they could think to do.”

  “I did think I had died, remember?” Patrick chuckled as much of the anxiety of what he had recently experienced melted away.

  “I still don’t understand,” Blake said. “If you were lying in bed being tended by Niamh, how could you meet Laura? It isn’t as if you two even knew one another.” Blake pushed his fingers through his hair. “If you were going to be seen by anyone, it would have been my aunt or uncle. They know you.”

  “I can explain.”

  Patrick turned at the sound of a voice at the door. It was the same young woman who had believed him after he first woke. Niamh’s granddaughter.

  “Brighid?” Blake questioned.

  A blush stole over her cheeks. “Good afternoon, Blake.”

  “I would like to know as well.” Laura stood and glided over to her. “I am Laura, Blake’s younger sister.”

  “It is nice to meet you.” The young woman smiled. “I am Brighid Glace. My family has been taking care of Lord Patrick since we found him along the banks of the river.” She glanced over at Patrick and smiled. “We didn’t know who he was until today, of course, or we would have contacted his family.”

  “How was Patrick able to be with Laura?” Blake demanded.

  Brighid sighed and settled into a chair. “I believe Lord Patrick was meant to pass on, but his spirit needed to deliver the message to Miss Chetwey first.” She looked at Patrick. “You could not move on until you met your one last obligation.”

  Patrick looked at Laura. “We had thought the same possibility.”

  “Everything changed when Lord Patrick found his life mate. The spirit refused to let go and leave this world or leave Miss Chetwey behind.” Brighid looked to Blake. “It was danger that broke the limbo state. Had Miss Chetwey not needed him, they might have continued on, hovering between life and death, long after Lord Patrick’s body died.”

  “How do you know this?” Blake demanded.

  She gave him a pointed looked.

  Blake turned away and stomped toward the fire. “I always knew you were a witch,” he mumbled.

  Brighid rolled her eyes and dismissed Blake with a wave of her hand. “It is what I believe, but I could be wrong.” She grinned at Patrick. “I’m not a witch despite what Blake believes.”

  Love shone in Laura’s eyes when she looked at Patrick. “If you wouldn’t have come back, I may have been facing years of coming up with excuses of why I couldn’t leave Torrington Abbey.”

  No she wouldn’t have. He would have disappeared and no matter how much it hurt to be without her, he would have forced her to go on living. At least now he would never lose her.

  Patrick offered his arm to Laura and they climbed the stairs to the upper level, leaving the wedding celebration behind. He would finally have her to himself. Blake had rarely left the two of them alone, and only for a few moments at a time. Patrick hadn’t even been able to steal near the amount of kisses he truly wished to, let alone hold and caress Laura because of her watchdog of a brother.

  He turned toward the west wing. Patrick had assumed they would spend the evening in her room as he did not have an estate close, nor did he want to travel to the inn in Tolbright though there was no longer any danger in traveling the road through the forest at night.

  Laura nudged him toward the east wing.

  He glanced down at her in confusion. That part of the house was only inhabitable for ghosts.

  “I had chambers prepared.” Her cheeks blossomed into a lovely shade of pink.

  “Who prepared them?” He knew as well as anyone that the staff wasn’t going to enter this particular portion of the house. They were still convinced the former earl haunted it, not that Patrick had seen any sign of the old man walking the corridor. And, if anyone would have truly seen a ghost, it would have been him.

  “Your sisters, your mother and Aunt Ivy.”

  It warmed him to think that his family had assisted Laura in preparing their wedding chamber. They had arrived from Ireland a week ago, after Patrick had written advising them of his betrothal. It had been almost two months since he had first arrived at Torrington Abbey as a ghost. The recovery from his injuries had taken nearly a month before he felt himself again. Instead of traveling to her family estate in Cheshire, he and Laura had remained at the Abbey so her aunt could plan the wedding.

  “I did learn the answer to one mystery,” Laura announced.

  “Which one?”

  “What happened to my uncle’s sister.” Her eyes danced with mischief. “It wasn’t as mysterious as I imagined.”

  Patrick chuckled and stood back, allowing her to enter the chamber. It was right next to the room where she had been penning her horrid novel, and where they had met.

  He was struck with transformation to this room. Gone were the cobwebs and dust covers. The wood furniture gleamed as if polished that day, a fire burned brightly in the grate, and he could see that the poker had been returned. Fresh linens were on the bed and the two of them were quite alone.


  “She ran off with her lover to America.” Laura giggled. “Her father had refused the man’s request for her hand, so he would sneak into the Abbey through the cellar. The two of them would meet in the east wing.”

  Patrick pulled her into his arms. “Apparently, the east wing is meant for lovers, not ghosts.”

  “When her father didn’t give in, the two ran away together, using the entrance in the cellar. That is why the door was sealed shut because it was too easy to gain access to the Abbey.”

  He tightened his arms around his wife.

  “She is quite happy, according to my uncle, and the two correspond regularly.”

  Patrick warmed at the feel of her body pressed against his. He began plucking the pins from her hair and let them fall to the floor. He had wanted to run his fingers through the silken tresses since he first saw her bent over the desk writing. “I suppose ya can no longer use her factual research for your novel.”

  Laura grinned up at him as she caressed his cheek. “Of course I can. She is simply an inspiration.” Merriment twinkled in her eyes at his chuckle. “I also know how my horrid novel will be different than any others.”

  “How is that?” Patrick loosened the back of her gown and slid it from her shoulders.

  “By having the hero faint as soon as he rescues the damsel in distress.” Laura shook with the laughter she was attempting to suppress behind tightly closed lips.

  He groaned in embarrassment. Some hero he turned out to be in the end. Still, Laura had been rescued and that was really all that mattered. “No more talk of horrid novels.”

  The laughter died and love shone in her eyes. The joy in his heart was nearly painful. She was his and would be for the rest of their days. However, their future wasn’t entirely set and he had yet to discuss what was expected of him. His father was a marquess and Patrick was his second son, soon to take over management of the stud farm. “How do ya feel about living in Ireland?”

  “Will I be able to look for leprechauns?” Laura teased.

  “There are no such things.” He pushed the gown down until her arms came free. From her waist up, Laura was clothed only in her chemise. Was his wife even aware he was undressing her as they spoke?

  She narrowed her eyes. “Are you so certain?” She hitched an eyebrow. “There are many things I didn’t believe a few months ago. I am no longer certain that leprechauns and fairies don’t exist.”

  “Aye, my dear, ya may be correct.” He lowered her mouth and kissed her with all the pent up passion he had been forced to deny until this moment.

  Laura sighed and smiled up at him when he pulled away.

  He pushed the gown from her body until it pooled at her feet. “I am certain there must be leprechauns and I will help ya find one.” Patrick swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. “But first we have much more important matters to attend to, wife.”

  The Red Door Reads ‘Who’s Ben Skrewd?’ Novellas

  What do you call eleven books ranging the gamut of Romance, from Regency Historical to Contemporary, to Paranormal, Urban Fantasy and beyond, all releasing on April 15, 2014 (tax day!) and each featuring a Red Door and a mysterious figure named Ben Skrewd? You call it a novella series like none other, all from the fabulous writers at Red Door Reads!

  Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness by Deb Marlowe

  A Half Moon House Series Novella

  Hexed by Andris Bear

  A Deadly Sins Novella

  Dances with Demons by Lori Handeland

  A Phoenix Chronicles Novella

  Firebird by Linda Winstead Jones

  A Columbyana Novella

  In the Stars by Ava Stone

  A Regency Encounter Novella

  Her Muse, Lord Patrick by Jane Charles

  A Muses Novella

  Cross Springs In Bloom by Caren Crane

  A Cross Springs Novella

  The Earl’s Passionate Plot by Susan Gee Heino

  Touch of Trouble by Susan Sey

  A Blake Brothers Novella

  Reagan’s Revenge by Tammy Falkner

  A Reed Brothers Novella

  Accidentally in Love by Claudia Dain

  A More Courtesan Chronicles Novella

  You can find them all at http://www.RedDoorReads.com!

  A Gentleman’s Guide to Once Upon a Time Series

  His Impetuous Debutante

  His Contrary Bride

  His (Not so) Sensible Miss

  His Christmas Match

  The Wiggons’ School for Elegant Young Ladies Series

  To Walk in the Sun

  Ghosts from the Past (coming soon)

  The Tenacious Trents

  A Misguided Lord

  A Perfect Gentleman

  A Lass for Christmas (Novella)

  A Reluctant Rake

  Compromised for Christmas

  Lady Revealed

  To Love a Governess Series

  Sacked – Regency Short

  Handfasted – Regency Novella

  Ruined – Regency Short

  Muses

  Her Muse, Lord Patrick (novella)

  Anthologies

  A Summons from His Grace – Compromised for Christmas

  The Betting Season – Landing a Laird

  A Season to Remember – Devil in Her Dreams

  A Pact Between Gentlemen - Lady Disguised (Trent novella)

  Compilations

  Scots, Spies and Salacious Lies

  Timeless Collection

  Jane Charles has lived in the Midwest her entire life. As a child she would more likely be found outside with a baseball than a book in her hand. In fact, Jane hated reading until she was sixteen. Out of boredom on a long road trip she borrowed her older sister’s historical romance and fell in love. She long ago lost count of how many fiction novels she has read over the years and her love for them never died. Along with romance she has a passion for history and the two soon combined when she penned her first historical romance. What turned into a hobby became a passion, which has been fully supported by her husband, three children and three cats.

  JaneCharlesAuthor.com

  Jane can be contacted at: janecharles522@gmail.com

  http://www.JaneACharles.blogspot.com

  or on Facebook and Twitter: JaneACharles

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  one

  two

  three

  four

  five

  six

  seven

  eight

  nine

  ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  thirteen

  fourteen

  fifteen

  sixteen

  seventeen

  eighteen

  Epilogue

  other books

  About the author