Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

P atrick climbed the stairs to his office in The Raven's Den. He poured himself a glass of brandy and dropped down into his chair. Michael entered a few minutes later.

"Busy night." He crossed the room and opened one of the safes. "Not that you would have noticed."

"What do you mean? I spent more time on the floor than you did tonight."

"Perhaps, but every time I looked at you, your eyes were glued to the ladies."

"Fair enough. I admit I was a bit distracted."

Michael raised a mocking brow. "A bit?"

Patrick emptied the remaining contents of his glass down his throat. "I don't know whether I've been hoping to see her there or praying she won't be."

"I don't think it matters what you were hoping for. If Ash said she won't be there, she won't be there."

"I know." He scrubbed his hands over his face. "Tomorrow is the day, the day I told her I'd be waiting for her if she wants to see me." Panic suddenly welled in Patrick's throat. "What if she doesn't come? What will I do then?"

Michael laughed cynically. "You really want relationship advice from a man who somehow managed to betroth himself to a toddler?"

Thank god he'd finished his drink. He sometimes forgot about that whole debacle.

"Fair enough. Although, perhaps you're really the lucky one. You already know who your bride will be."

"That's one way of looking at it, I suppose."

Standing, Patrick rolled his shoulders. At least the knife wound had mostly healed. "Well, shall we?"

After locking up, they walked together to Patrick's and then said goodnight before Michael continued on to his own place.

Try as he might, Patrick didn't sleep a wink. He arrived at Siegfried's more than a half hour early and sat on a bench nearby to wait for Rosie. His mind was spinning like a top. What if she didn't come? What if she did come?

Suddenly, the sound of her laughter, like music of the angels, permeated the din of the anxious voice inside his mind. How was it possible that she was even more beautiful than he'd remembered? Happiness radiated from her as she laughed animatedly with two other women. Icy fingers of guilt wrapped their way around his heart. Was it selfish to try to persuade her to leave that life for him? What if it could bring her more happiness than he could?

Thankfully, when her eyes locked with his, her smile didn't falter. If anything, it tipped up just a bit more. Her eyes widened and her hand floated to her stomach. Butterflies must have taken flight there, just as they had in his own.

He stood as the three ladies walked toward him. They all carried umbrellas beside them, and only then did Patrick look up at the threatening sky. Dark clouds swirled above, which promised more than a chance of rain.

"Afternoon, ladies," he said with a nod.

"Good afternoon, Patrick," they chimed. His eyes locked with Rosie's and his heart stumbled inside his chest. What was this power she had over him?

The others didn't stay to visit and simply waggled their fingers at Rosie as they continued walking. "We'll be back to collect you in one hour, Rosie."

"No need, Daisy. I'll return her safely."

But Daisy turned and shook her head. "Ash's orders" She raised her hands in a shrug.

Patrick didn't argue any further.

He turned back to Rosie. "I'm glad you came." Her smile faltered and she looked down at her feet, brushing the right one back and forth across the cobblestones.

His voice cracked slightly as it broke through the awkward silence. "It's too cold for an ice, but I'm sure Siegfried's is serving hot beverages, as well. Would you like some tea, or perhaps chocolate?"

"Oh, yes, please!" Her smile returned. Thank God. How had he managed to make this situation so awkward? And how in the hell was he going to get from this, to convincing her she should accept the protection he offered her?

Clasping his hands behind him as an added measure to keep them to himself, they walked together to a nearby table. Immediately after they'd settled, a young woman hurried up to them.

"What can I get ya?"

Patrick nodded for Rosie. "I'll have a cup of chocolate, please." She spoke softly. Patrick had never really seen much in the way of shyness from her. She'd barged into his study, bold as brass, in her nightclothes, on more than one occasion. He nearly laughed out loud at the memory.

"One hot chocolate. And for you, sir?"

"Coffee, please." She gave a quick nod and scurried away.

"How have you been?" he asked, trying to stop the impending silence from settling once more.

"Oh!" Her face brightened. "I made you something!" She reached between the buttons of her bodice and pulled out a handkerchief. His mouth twitched with amusement.

"I know," she said, pink filling her cheeks. "But I was afraid if I put it in my reticule, I'd forget to give it to you."

He did chuckle then, as he took the piece of cloth she held out to him. This was his Rosie. Rather than the usual monogram, the words ‘Just Patrick' were embroidered with green thread into the corner. He chortled with sheer joy.

"I know it's not very good, but I've been learning to sew." She shrugged.

"It's perfect," he assured her. And it was. Sure, the stitches weren't even or straight, but he loved everything about it.

Two mugs were thrust onto the table, breaking the temporary magic. For a moment, he didn't understand why the woman didn't leave, but slowly, his brain found its way back to reality. He quickly dropped two coins into her hand.

They sipped their drinks, the silence between them a bit more comfortable than it had been before.

"I don't know why I've been taking sewing lessons, if I'm honest. I've never had the patience for it."

"Well I, for one, am glad you did." He held up the white piece of cloth. "I will treasure it always."

"Pfft." She waved her hand dismissively. "Don't be ridiculous."

A large raindrop landed on the table, quickly followed by another, and another. Before he could even react, it became a deluge.

She quickly stood and opened her umbrella, but a gust of wind ripped it right out of her hand, sending it hurtling down the street. He'd never be able to catch up to it, so instead he extended his hand. "Come. The Raven's Nest is just around the corner."

She took hold and ran beside him the short distance to his shop. Rain pounded down all around them, puddles appearing out of nowhere. Patrick pulled on the door to the shop, but it was locked. Bertram had probably left when he saw the storm moving in, knowing it would chase away any potential customers. Patrick pulled out his ring of keys, fumbling with cold, wet fingers to push the correct one into the lock. Wrenching the door open, he ushered Rosie inside, the wind slamming it shut behind them.

"I'm so sorry, Rosie. I should have taken you back as soon as I realized it might rain, but there was hardly even a breeze, and I didn't expect it to turn so quickly."

But when she turned, a smile lit her face. "That was the most excitement I've had in some time." She removed her hat pin and shook some of the water off of her hat. Loose strands of hair hung limply, water dripping down the sides of her face.

As he tucked one of the errant strands behind her ear, she leaned her face against his palm, and her eyes flickered closed. It took all of the strength he possessed not to lean in and kiss her. With a sigh, he slowly removed his hand and stepped back. He was supposed to be protecting her from… well, him.

"You're soaking wet. Stay here while I run upstairs and get a towel."

"I'll just come with you." She moved to follow him, but he held out his hand and shook his head. He knew exactly what would happen if she came up to his flat. Or at least what he would want to happen.

Before she could argue, he turned on his heel and practically bolted out the door. Afraid she might decide to follow him anyway, he ran straight to the linen closet and grabbed a towel for each of them.

Before entering the shop again, he took a deep breath and steeled himself. He had to keep his desire in check. She wasn't here to be mauled by him. He was supposed to be trying to convince her to marry him so he could get her away to somewhere safe.

Patrick held the towel out at arm's length for her to take, which she did, reluctantly. She patted her hair and then wrapped it around her shoulders, her eyes never leaving him. Her gaze held a touch of sadness and perhaps confusion. God, he'd messed it up again. He wasn't entirely sure how or when, but she was no longer laughing or smiling.

"I know you're probably still angry with me for the way I left." Her throat moved as she swallowed. "I'm sorry, Patrick." Her gaze dropped to the floor.

"I'm not angry." He cupped her chin and urged her face up so he could look into her eyes. "I was never mad at you, Rosie." She lifted up onto her toes and tentatively pressed her lips against his. He was almost able to stop himself and step away, but then the tip of her tongue traced along the seam of his lips. His resolve disintegrated. Wrapping his arms tightly around her, he ravished her mouth. Their tongues dueled and she matched his every move. God how he'd missed her. Running his hands down her back, he squeezed her backside and lifted her up to sit on the edge of the counter so he could deepen the kiss even more. From the corner of his eye, he watched a drop of water drip from her hair. It snaked its way over her jaw and down her neck. He followed its path with his mouth and plunged his tongue inside her collar. Her resulting moan was like a siren's call.

The enchantment was broken by a loud crash. Patrick whipped his face up to see Ash standing inside the door. Water ran down every part of his coat and dribbled from the brim of his hat, but he didn't look concerned about that. His expression was thunderous. Patrick suddenly felt like a schoolboy who'd just been caught doing something naughty and was about to get a thrashing. He gently lifted Rosie down to the floor.

"This,"—Ash's angry gaze bored into Patrick's—"was not what was supposed to be happening today."

Patrick held up his hands in front of him, his version of a white flag. "We just needed somewhere to get out of the rain."

"Don't, Patrick." A swift shadow of anger swept across his face. "For once in your life, take some responsibility for your actions. Daisy and Iris were soaked through after looking everywhere for the pair of you."

"I'm sorry, Ash," Rosie said, taking a step towards him. "This is my fault."

"It most certainly isn't," Patrick said quickly, but Ash ignored him and turned on Rosie.

"You and I will have a conversation about this later."

"Don't speak to her that way." Patrick marched toward Ash, but Ash mirrored his movements and the two of them met in the middle of the shop. Ash jabbed his finger painfully into Patrick's chest.

"She's my responsibility right now," he shouted. "One of us needs to actually keep her safe."

"I can keep her safe!" Patrick barked back, but he felt as if he'd been punched in the gut. Once again, he'd failed to keep her safe from himself.

Ash rolled his eyes. "Still planning to send her off to live on one of your estates?"

"Yes, actually. I am." He took a step back from Ash. "Just because she left, doesn't mean the offer doesn't still stand."

"While the two of you decide what's best for me, I'll just leave, shall I?" She threw the towel onto the floor and rushed out the door into the storm.

"Now look what you've done," Patrick moved to follow her, but Ash pushed him back and jabbed him once again.

"Stay." he said, his finger less than an inch from Patrick's nose.

"I'm not your dog!" Patrick pushed Ash's arm away.

"Stop." Ash pressed his hand firmly against Patrick's chest with the command. Patrick reined in his anger. He was, once again, having a temper tantrum like a bloody toddler, and someone needed to go after Rosie. The instant he gave a nod, Ash sprinted out the door.

Ash would keep her safe. He knew that to his core, so why was he still so angry? Why wasn't that enough for him? And that's when he finally realized the undeniable truth. He was still angry because he didn't just want her to be safe. He wanted her to be his. His partner, his lover… his wife.

What in the hell had just happened? How had he, a determined, life-long bachelor, suddenly decided he should marry? And more importantly, how was he, a stubborn, crass, brute, who drank too much, ever going to be worthy of her?

"Fuck."