Patriot's Heart

by Marzec, Penelope;

  Instinctively, Agnes’s free hand closed upon the memento at her bosom. Warmth flowed through her, as if the memories alone filled her with the power of love.

  Love never fails. Remembering the scripture verse strengthened her.

  The miller did not seem perturbed by her threat at all. He closed the door and locked it behind him. Then he pulled out a pistol.

  “I will not miss at this distance,” he growled. “I can grab that candle before it ignites the powder.”

  “In that case, I’ll put the flame closer to the powder.” She lowered her hand and wondered just how close was too close. Did it matter? She would not escape this madman.

  “I am sorry it took me so long to get back to you.” The false geniality in his tone grated on her taut nerves. “I went to find the Zimmer boys. I hung them upstairs.”

  Her stomach churned. “I heard the struggling.”

  “They believed all they had to do was hide out for a few days and I would overlook their misplaced loyalty, but I never forget. Or forgive. I’ll load them in the wagon and leave it on the road somewhere. The wagon belongs to a disaffected farmer. I hate the disaffected almost as much as I hate the Tories. Someone will find the Zimmers and assume those loyal to the crown killed them, but the disaffected farmer will be suspect, too. It is a most perfect plan.”

  “What of the shopkeeper and the two other farmers? Did you punish them as well?” Buying time in conversation would hardly help her, and yet she kept trying to think of some other way to trip him up. Anything would be a desperate gamble, but even a slight chance was worth it.

  “The farmers were in their fields. I decided it would be most expedient to shoot them, especially since there were no other witnesses.” He sobered. “But the shopkeeper I shall have to save for another day. He will suffer the consequences of his action, just as you will.” He raised his gun and aimed at her heart.

  She held her breath and moved the candle closer to the powder.

  From above, a sudden heavy thump sounded. The miller turned his face upward.

  “Has one of them escaped the noose?” he growled. “I will make him suffer far more!”

  From somewhere further back, but still above, the rusty squeal of hinges came to her ears. Then another thump, far louder than the first, echoed downward into the cellar.

  “No!” he cried. “It cannot be! I hung them good and proper. They should be dead by now.”

  A loud click sounded in the lock at the door behind the miller. The door opened wide and crashed against the wall. The miller spun around and his gun fired. The musket ball ricocheted off the stones. He gave a cry and fell to the floor.

  Agnes lifted the candle high. Edwin stepped over the body of the miller. She moved away from the table and the deadly explosive. Edwin caught her in his arms as she passed out.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The sweet scent of fresh air filled her nostrils and Agnes stirred. She opened her eyes slowly. For a moment, she forgot all that had happened, for somehow she knew she was safe. She sensed she had awakened from a horrible dream, but the nightmare had left her, leaving everything calm. Then the memory of what she had intended to do came back to her in a rush and she gave a cry.

  “Hush, you are safe now.” Edwin’s mellow voice floated softly upon her. The great vault of the heavens above twinkled with stars as he carried her in his arms. Her bruises and scrapes smarted, but he held her with exceeding care, and the comfort she found in his embrace offered her a gentle sense of peace.

  They rode bareback on an old horse who ambled along the road in no decided haste.

  “Am I dreaming?” she asked with a sigh. “Or am I in heaven?”

  “Certainly not heaven, for I am here, too.”

  She glanced up at him. The deep shadows of night hid the blue of his eyes, but they reflected the meager light from the heavens.

  “I did not drop the candle?” she asked.

  “You handed it to me before you fainted.”

  She nodded. Her strength had given out in those last few seconds.

  “I did not want to die.” She sighed and her hand closed upon the cameo. Warmth seeped into her fingertips. Was her mother still watching out for her?

  He said nothing, but when he kissed her forehead, his teardrops dampened her cheek. Why had he come back?

  A cold chill went through her. Had Margaret been found?

  She feared asking, though she must know the truth. She forced her sister’s name from her lips. “Margaret?”

  “She is well as is Jonas. She wanted to come and save you. Convincing her to stay put was not an easy task.”

  Agnes smiled and closed her eyes. “You found her.”

  “No, she found me. That child has a lot of spunk.” He chuckled lightly, a wonderful sound, and one she thought she would never hear again. Her eyes grew misty.

  He had been kind. Kinder than she expected. She believed he used Margaret’s disappearance as a means to return to his own people, but now she had her sister back. He held to his word.

  Still, he must return to England and become a barrister. Though he would never be happy with that profession, she must accept his duty to his family.

  She sighed, for she believed he held the other half of her soul. She did not understand how it happened, but with him near, her heart beat in a joyful rhythm. They were made of the same substance and the heat of crisis melded them together. Losing him would be like losing part of herself.

  “I will always be grateful to you for bringing her back, but how can you return safely to Sandy Hook? There is no boat.”

  “I am not returning to Sandy Hook,” he stated in a husky tone.

  “But your sister—”

  “My sister does not live in England. I cannot understand why she insists upon me going back there.”

  “You must become a barrister.”

  “That’s what everyone expects me to do, but I made up my mind. I know what I want.” His smile hid in the shadows as they rode along, but she heard it in his voice.

  She frowned in bewilderment and tried to sound noncommittal. She wanted them to part as friends. “I am glad you decided upon a profession. I trust it will make you far happier than being a barrister.” Knowing he would not suffer for the rest of his life at a job he hated would ease the departure for her. “What have you chosen?”

  “In truth, my new calling involves three great changes.”

  “Oh.” This surprised her. “Haven’t you suffered through enough changes as it is?”

  “These are all for the better and they go together, like a seamless garment. I cannot alter one thing without adjusting the other. In short, I will start by marrying you as soon as you have recovered or maybe beforehand, if you don’t mind.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. She reached up to touch his cheek. “You will never be called Lord Greenly here. No one will give you the least amount of deference for being the son of a duke.”

  He laughed. “Ha! Remember I am the third son. It hardly matters to me, for the title has never been anything but a weight upon my shoulders. I would enjoy being called your husband far more than being the third son of the Duke of Dalfour. I love you, Agnes McGowan, as much or maybe more than you love me.”

  “I doubt that. We shall be married tomorrow.” She drew his head down and kissed him. He kissed her back, but when he came up for air, she breathlessly asked, “What will be your second adjustment?”

  “I am going to shepherd a flock.”

  “How can you buy any sheep? You own nothing but the boots on your feet.”

  He laughed. “I intend to become a pastor and tend to a flock of souls.”

  For a moment, his words struck her dumb. “Are you sure about such an undertaking?”

  “Yes.” His deep sigh mingled with the breeze rustling through the leaves. “I asked for a choice. One road or the other. The answer came to me quite clearly.”

  “The Lord knows the yearnings of the heart.” Her heart sang with happiness.


  “Yes, I never understood, though the seeds were planted long ago. It took time for them to grow.”

  Joy suffused her, for she had given him her trust and he had been more than worthy of it. Just as he had handled the twins so well, she believed he could handle the souls of those in his care.

  “What is the last great change, for you said you had three?”

  “Yes, though the last one is quite a surprise, for my heart has wavered and vacillated most precipitously, but I now believe I have a Patriot’s heart.”

  She laughed and placed her hand over his heart. “Yes, it has the correct beat.”

  He took her hand in his and kissed it. “It learned that pulse by listening to the rhythm of your hammer.”

  She sighed with contentment, knowing the deep love between them forged a bond that would never break.

  Please enjoy this sample from Daddy Wanted by Penelope Marzec, available from Prism Book Group!

  Grace held her breath until Ulysses moved. He blinked at her and scrambled into his small pool. She sprinkled a few grains of his food into the water and he went after them with the precision of a heat-seeking missile. The turtle belonged to her roommate, Elyse, but she neglected him. Grace feared one day she would wake up and find he had passed away.

  Assured of the red-eared slider’s vitality, she stumbled into the bathroom, groggy from lack of sleep. She should never have turned off the snooze alarm. Her boss had scheduled a morning meeting and she might have to run all the way to work to arrive in time.

  Despite her blurry vision, a vivid pink color in the wastebasket caught her attention. Her heart sank when she read the words on the box: pregnancy test kit. She supposed she should not be surprised. Every man in New York City adored Elyse. Her slightly exotic, almond-shaped eyes, curly, coal-black hair, and perfect, hourglass figure drew men.

  Grace’s throat tightened. Her roommate might be in major trouble. A lot of young women went through pregnancy scares, but Elyse never had any trouble until now, which was a miracle, all considering.

  A cold chill went down Grace’s spine. How could Elyse take care of a baby if she could not take care of Ulysses?

  Grace fought to tame her short, mousy-brown, bedhead hair and lost the battle. She put down the brush and opted to wear a hat. Her current favorite resembled a designer one she saw at Saks. She purchased the knockoff from a vendor on the street—the genuine article would have reduced her to poverty. She tilted the chapeau to one side and imagined herself a movie star from one of the ancient black-and-white films Gram favored. She pursed her lips and batted her eyelashes. The vision in the mirror did not resemble Lillian Gish, the American stage, screen, and TV actress. Disappointed, she told herself the bitter cold of February would give her frostbitten ears if she did not wear the hat.

  Her gaze rested on the pink box again and a cold knot settled in her chest. Should she ask Elyse about the test? Would Elyse volunteer the information?

  She had been sharing the apartment on Lorimer Street in Brooklyn with Elyse for the past year and a half. Men regularly appeared on the doorstep hungering after Elyse. She had more boyfriends than Ben & Jerry had ice cream flavors, but most of the swains did not last long—until Aidan came along. Elyse’s infatuation with Aidan proved the most intense, up until one week ago when they had a fight.

  Elyse called him a slacker because he did not have a job, nor did he appear to have any hope of landing one soon. “Do you think you can sponge off me for the rest of your life?”

  Aidan did not respond. Instead, he’d walked out.

  After the altercation, Aidan went from being an unemployed actor to imitating a rather good magician. He vanished, which might not be too hard to accomplish in a city with eight million people, but the speed of his departure was impressive, at least to Grace. He had been crashing at an apartment with two other young men, and they vowed he had left no forwarding address after he’d packed up and moved out in less than an hour.

  Grace needed more time than that to pack up her books.

  After Aidan’s departure, Elyse dissolved into long bouts of crying. Her grief would undoubtedly worsen if the pregnancy test came out positive.

  Grace glanced at the mirror again. Dark smudges under her eyes attested to all her sympathetic listening. What else could she do? Elyse had helped her through the worst tragedy in her life. She had to be there for her friend.

  Over and over, Elyse had blurted out between sobs, “He was such a poser!”

  Grace bit her lip to prevent herself from saying, “Well, yeah. He’s an actor.”

  The dull throb of a headache pulsed in her temples. She had the chore of taking out the garbage this week, which made her solely responsible for stuffing the pregnancy test kit box into the building’s trashcan. She did not want anyone else in the apartment building to view the evidence. Especially the new guy in 2L who always seemed to be hanging around the garbage cans whenever she stepped outside. The mailbox in the vestibule listed him as Russell Thorpe. She frowned as she recalled how often he hung around the stairway when she came downstairs. When she picked up her mail, he stood in the vestibule and glanced over her shoulder as she flipped through her bills.

  Was he a stalker?

  If so, he didn’t instill any fear or panic in her. She did not break out in a cold sweat. On the contrary, instant warmth slid through her and her heart flip-flopped at his nearness, though they never spoke to each other. Sometimes, he nodded at her.

  Her brief musing ended when Elyse banged on the bathroom door.

  “Let me in!”

  Grace hurried out. Elyse stood before her with wide eyes and a hand over her mouth. Then she ran into the bathroom and slammed the door.

  Grace sank onto one of the kitchen chairs and covered her eyes. Elyse has morning sickness!

  Grace squelched a groan when she glanced at her watch. The boss scheduled the meeting at work for nine thirty—in Manhattan. She hated rush hour in the subway with strangers pressed together as closely as oranges in the display case at the fruit stand on Nassau Avenue.

  She heard the sound of the toilet flushing as she grabbed her backpack and coat.

  “Are you going to be okay?” she called out.

  “Get moving. You’re late.”

  “Send an instant message to me at work!” She ran down the stairs. The guy in 2L came out of his apartment, but she kept her eyes focused on the steps. She did not want to look at him. If she cast a glance his way she would be left with the sensation of losing her balance and toppling off her surfboard. She had never met a man as tall and handsome, or so...intense.

  “Are you practicing for the marathon?” A hint of humor touched his voice.

  She caught a whiff of his aftershave as she passed. The woodsy undertones had her remembering the scent of the tall pines which grew in Gram’s backyard in Long Branch, New Jersey.

  “I’m late.” She clipped her words as she gripped the railing.

  “That’s unusual for you.”

  Her heart thundered as she hurried into the vestibule and escaped onto the street. What was she going to do? The guy watched her every move.

  Look for Daddy Wanted at all major eBook retailers, or on the Prism Book Group website at http://www.prismbookgroup.com!

  AUTHOR BIO

  Penelope Marzec grew up along the Jersey shore. She started reading romances at a young age and fell hopelessly in love with happy endings. Two of her inspirational romances won EPIC’s eBook Award and another was a finalist in that contest. Her paranormal, Irons in the Fire, was a nominee for a Romantic Times Reviewers Choice award. Visit her website at http://www.penelopemarzec.com for more information.

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