Then, as quickly as it had come, it was gone. Patrick nearly crumpled to the earth with relief and fought to regain control of his legs.
Forcing himself to move, he returned to his hiding place but did not change. Whatever was out there, he did not want to meet it as a human.
When the sun finally rose, he donned his clothes and walked home.
“Master Patrick,” the butler greeted him, “Miss Angelica is expecting you in the sunroom.”
His shoes clacked on the polished tiles as he followed the butler through the manor. Thankfully, Lord Alaric was nowhere to be seen.
The sunroom was an extension of the library, with three tall bay windows that let in warmth and light. Angelica sat on a bench against a window, book in hand.
“What are you reading, Miss Angelica?”
“‘A History of Wolves’,” she said. “In light of the attack, I thought I’d read up on them.”
Patrick took a seat next to her; her sweet perfume sending tingles over his skin. “Does your father think what happened was a wolf attack?”
“He does not rule out the possibility. After all, that night on our way home, those bandits were killed by wolves.”
“A fair assumption, then,” Patrick mused.
“How goes your investigation?”
“We have only but started. Do not fret; we will find the perpetrator,” he smiled reassuringly.
Angelica looked up at him with her dark, liquid eyes. “It terrifies me to think there is something out there so wild.”
Shooting a glance at the door to reassure himself that the butler had left, Patrick took Angelica’s delicate hand in his. It was warm and soft, and innocent, promising to rip his heart in two.
“I will not let anything happen to you, I promise.”
To his surprise and utter delight, Angelica leaned forward and rested her head on his shoulder. With his free hand, he stroked her dark hair. Looking down at her petite, vulnerable frame, he wanted nothing more than to protect her, and yet he struggled to control the bulging emotion within his trousers. Shifting so she would have to sit up, he took her face in both his hands, forcing her to look into his eyes - instead of into his lap.
“Angelica, I am certain you have put a spell on me, for I vow never to leave your side. I will protect you with my life.”
Angelica’s worried face brightened with a smile, and he could not help himself. Leaning in, he gently brushed her pink lips with a kiss.
It took all his self-control to release her face and resume holding her hand instead. Angelica kept her eyes closed for a moment; a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
Chapter 5
Edward looked at him seriously. “How can you be sure if you didn’t see anything?”
“There was something out there, Father, I swear it.”
“We cannot go to Dorien with ghost stories, Patrick. Keep this to yourself for now. Maybe the time will come when this information will become valuable.”
“Yes, Father.”
“The people of the town are fearful as it is. There is no need to scare them further. Let’s keep our heads down for now. If Lord Alaric thinks wolves may be behind this, he will have the hunters out in the woods soon enough. No more running, Patrick.”
Patrick ground his teeth and bent over the papers on his desk. The only action keeping him calm was Angelica’s sweet voice drifting in through the open window from the orchard. He hated this tedious task of filing papers and counting numbers. Dorien Lowell was out there right now looking for whatever killed Edgar Abbott, and Patrick should be by his side.
The week dragged by, mainly because Patrick was not allowed out in the woods. He did not get to see Angelica during the week, and on Saturday afternoon, Dorien called another meeting.
“We have made no progress,” Richard reported. “There are no tracks, no clues, nothing.”
Emerson cleared his throat. “We did discover something,” he began, and everyone looked at him. “Not about the killer, but Abbott.”
Patrick noticed how uncomfortable Emerson was and had a bad feeling about what the man was about to reveal.
“We spoke to his family, and they are all bereaved, of course, excepting for their youngest daughter, if you catch my meaning.”
The men in the room stared at each other, frowning with incomprehension.
“I asked my wife, Anna, to speak with the girl,” Emerson continued. “Turns out, the little miss is happy her Papa is not coming back. Now he can’t touch her no more.”
Patrick shook with fury at the implication, rendered speechless by the atrocity. A beast himself, Abbott had surely deserved to die.
“I am sorry for the girl, and the town will assist the family where we can,” Dorien said, “but it still leaves us with a killer on the loose. I now have orders from Lord Alaric to put together a team of hunters.”
There it was. Patrick knew it would be coming. He clenched his jaw, hiding his distaste for Lord Alaric.
“After the wolf attack on their carriage, and then the attack on Abbott, Albert is convinced there be at least one rogue wolf in these woods. I have a list of men who can be spared from their jobs for hunting. Patrick, Roland and Emerson, you three will be joining the hunt.”
Finally, some good news. Patrick’s heart pounded in his chest at the prospect of not being cooped up in that stuffy office all week shuffling papers.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Your hunt will begin tomorrow after the church service. Gather at Ashford Manor to receive your orders.”
Patrick’s heart sank again. He had plans to see Angelica tomorrow. Sundays were the only days he could see her. Sporting a frown, he left Dorien’s office with the rest of the men.
“Patrick,” his father interrupted his thoughts on the ride home, “do you think it could be ferals responsible for this?”
“I have considered it, Father, but there would be traces of them out there. As a werewolf, you’d know if a feral roamed our woods.”
“Very well. I know it isn’t wolves you will find out there, my son, so be careful. Only God knows what killed Edgar. Keep your wits about you at all times.”
With his hunting gear and bedroll strapped to his saddle, Patrick rode out to Ashford Manor two hours before noon on Sunday. He had not seen the Alaric family at church, and he wanted to speak with Angelica before he left with the hunting party.
Handing his reins to Jasper, Patrick climbed the steps to the front door. The butler admitted him on the second knock and bade Patrick wait while he informed the Miss of his arrival.
Wearing a simple, yet striking blue dress, Angelica descended the stairs from the upper floor to meet him, a glowing smile tugging on her lips.
“Master Patrick, I did not expect your company today. Father said you would be riding out with the hunters.”
“Indeed,” he agreed, “but how could I leave without seeing your beautiful face.”
He took her hand for the last few steps and then walked with her into the sitting room. A maid brought them tea.
“You will be careful out there, won’t you?”
“Of course, I will,” he promised.
“When will I see you again?”
“I cannot say. We may be gone a week or more.”
Angelica’s dark eyebrows pulled into a frown, and he ached to reach up to smooth it out with his thumb.
“I shall wait for you, then,” Angelica said resolutely. “There is no changing my father’s mind once it’s made. He must have his hunting trip, and I do hope you find the beast.”
“As do I.”
“Will you visit me upon your return?”
“You know I will. My heart is yours.”
Patrick would have died for her at that moment, given the smile she bestowed upon him. For all the women he had lain with, none had made him feel this way.
A commotion from outside interrupted their mood, and they looked towards the window. The men were gathering; it was nearly time.
“Watch my father,” Angelica cautioned. “He is a shrewd and calculating man. He always gets what he wants. Be careful.”
Patrick did not get the opportunity to ask Angelica what she meant, as the butler came to let him know it was time to leave.
Bending over Angelica’s hand, Patrick kissed it lightly, inhaling her sweet perfume. With a motion so quick even Patrick almost missed it, Angelica tucked a handkerchief into his pocket.
“I will see you soon, my Lady,” he whispered.
Fourteen of them rode out, with Dorien and Lord Alaric in the lead. Dorien had brought a map of the area and set a route that would cover a hundred square miles around the town. They cursed the spring weather, for the frequent rain washed away any spoor they hoped to find.
At night they camped out in the open, with a massive fire to keep them safe. During those evenings around the flames, Albert Alaric would often question the men in a manner that made Patrick think the lord suspected every one of them. Patrick kept to himself and when at the mercy of Alaric’s questioning, was careful with his answers, Angelica’s warning not forgotten.
“He suspects something,” Dorien said to Patrick on the fifth day as they rode side by side down the rutted road. “I don’t know what he knows, but it’ll do no good to draw attention to ourselves now. Keep your head down, Patrick.”
The search led to nothing but more questions. The woods around Ashford were free of wolves, and any other large predators, and there were no signs of kills. Patrick had not forgotten about the thing in the forest, but there was no sign of it during their entire trip. He began to believe it had been but a figment of his imagination.
Ten days later, they rode back into Ashford, after spending the last night in the pouring rain.
“There has been another murder,” Edward greeted them at Ashford Manor. “Last night, down by the brackens.”
“Who?” asked Albert tersely.
“Alexander Smythe.”
“Good God,” Albert staggered back in shock. “The same way?”
Edward shook his head. “You might want to see for yourself. They’ve laid him out in his smithy for now.”
A shiver ran over Patrick’s skin, and he looked up, feeling her eyes on him. Angelica stood at a window on the upper floor, looking down on them. She was paler than usual. He lifted a hand in greeting, and she replied by putting a delicate hand against the window. Smiling ruefully, he turned back to the men, who were preparing to ride on into town.
The bracken thickets were about a mile downriver from the smithy; too close to town for comfort. The thought that the beast had been this close disconcerted everyone.
“I hope you all have solid stomachs,” Edward warned as he led them into Alexander’s forge.
Usually a warm place, the smithy felt cold that morning as they stepped passed the tongs and hammers and bellows. It was a good thing Edward had warned them, for when they caught first sight of the smith lying on his workbench, most could not stop themselves from retching.
Flayed from top to bottom, Alexander had no piece of skin left on his body. They could see his fat and flesh and muscles - all undamaged.
“Where is his skin?” Dorien finally managed to say.
“We have not been able to find it yet.”
“Who could have done such a thing?” Richard asked.
“This was no beast, that is for certain,” Lord Alaric stated. “It is a man we are hunting.”
“The relief we feel at the suspicion being averted from the wolves is far overshadowed by whatever is truly out there,” Edward said at the dinner table that night.
“What do you think it could be?” Lillian asked, a tremor in her voice.
“We don’t know, Mother. Even I have never seen such a thing, and I have seen plenty during the war.”
“Dorien has implemented a curfew. No one is to go outside after dark. I don’t think that is practical for the farmers, but I don’t see another way at the moment,” Edward said.
“What else is being done about it?”
Edward nodded at Patrick. “Those that were part of the hunting party will patrol around town at night in shifts. Patrick has been released from his duties at the office until the murderer has been captured.”
“No,” Lillian breathed, reaching out to take her son’s hand.
“I will be fine, Mother.”
“Patrick knows how to handle himself, Lillian,” Edward assured her. “I will be making some changes around the homestead, though, to keep us safe, too.”
Patrick had discussed this in detail with his father, and they set to it the next morning. The employees were tasked with reinforcing the fences and adding new stones to the walls. Edward made sure every one of the employees knew precisely where Patrick set up the traps around the farm, so they would not stumble into them by accident.
On Friday Patrick met up with the rest of the men in town, where they would stay at the inn during their patrols. He dropped off his gear, checked in with Dorien, and then rode out to Ashford Manor. Patrick had not seen Angelica in almost two weeks, and he wasn’t sure when he would get the chance again once the patrols started.
“Master Patrick,” Mary Alaric’s reedy voice rang in his ears, “I believe you are one of the men who will be keeping us safe from whatever is roaming out there?”
“Indeed, Lady Alaric.”
“I shall wish you the best of luck, then. Angelica will be down in a moment, but don’t keep her too long; she has not been feeling herself lately.”
“Yes, my Lady.”
Mary Alaric left with a swish of her skirts, leaving Patrick alone in the parlour. As promised, Angelica soon came down, and they sat at a table to take their tea.
“Your mother says you have not been feeling well,” Patrick said, examining her pale, beautiful face.
“She knows not what she speaks of. She hardly ever talks to me, so how would she know.”
Patrick raised an eyebrow at Angelica’s derisive tone but did not comment on it. “So, you are well, then?”
Angelica smiled, showing her small, white teeth, and her eyes sparkled mischievously. “Better now that you are here with me.”
“I don’t know when I will be able to come again,” Patrick confessed. “After what happened to Smythe, your father and Dorien are taking no more chances.”
“I know,” Angelica pouted, “but if the beast only strikes at night, could you not visit during the day?”
Patrick had to smile. “You are right, of course. During those daylight hours that I am not catching up on lost sleep, I shall visit you.”
“Then,” she laughed, “I can honestly say I am better than well. Will you meet with me in the orchard tomorrow?”
“Aye, the orchard it is,” Patrick agreed.
A thick fog clung to the ground during the night of their first patrol, setting the men and their horses on edge. Patrick employed all of his wolf senses, but throughout the night, there was nothing out there besides them.
When the sun rose, the most eventful thing that happened was that Angus Buck had fallen off his horse.
After seeing to their horses, the men had their breakfast at the inn, before retiring to their rooms. Patrick forced himself to get some rest but was up again soon after noon, and on his way to Ashford Manor.
“You look well today,” Patrick told Angelica when he found her on the swing in the orchard.
“I slept well, knowing our heroes are out there keeping us safe.”
Patrick did not miss the teasing tone in her voice, and stepped closer, trying to read her expression. “You think us no match for the beast?”
“What? I said no such thing.”
“Your tone implied it.”
Lightly she jumped off the swing and ran off through the trees, laughing. He followed the white flash of her dress between the black trunks of the trees.
The season was advancing, and the blossoms displayed proudly on the trees, but the leaves were slow to show. Patrick could see fa
r into the orchard and had no trouble following Angelica as she skipped ahead. He knew where she was going - he had been there with her before. Soon, the pavilion came into view, prettier now that he saw it in daylight.
Ivy climbed its way around the posts, and across the railings. The pillows were as white as he remembered them but delicately embroidered with pink roses. Angelica took a seat on the bench in the pavilion and patted the space beside her.
“Will you sit by me? Tell me about your adventures on the mainland.”
“Those are not stories you would like to hear,” he said.
“How do you know?”
“Does the war interest you? It isn’t a subject I like to talk about.”
Angelica’s playful mood changed, and she took his hand. “I’m sorry, Patrick, I did not mean to make you uncomfortable. I am sure you have seen horrible things. Let’s talk about something else, shall we?”
Rubbing his thumb over the back of her warm hand, he took a seat beside her. “What else would you like to talk about?”
She bit her lip and cast her eyes down for a moment before she answered. “Would you kiss me again, Patrick?”
His surge of desire came so suddenly; he could almost not control it. A gasp escaped him before he could answer her.
“Angelica, I have been waiting for you to ask,” he breathed, before leaning in and gently pressing his lips to hers.
She was so sweet, so innocent, and so soft. His arm wound around her waist and pulled her closer.
“I may not be able to stop if you look at me like that,” he whispered in her ear.
“I may not be able to stop you if you kiss me like that again,” she whispered back.
Leaning in, he brushed her lips, then kissed her cheek, and below her ear. Her low moan sent delightful shivers over his skin.
“Are we allowed to be doing this?” Patrick asked, gently stroking Angelica’s back.
Playing With Fire Page 52
