Linley had to know for sure.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
She sat up and swung her feet over the side of the bed. After more than a week of rest, she’d grown much stronger, but it still felt awkward to be moving on her own two feet. Linley held onto the wall for support, making her way one step at a time out of her room and down the covered walkway separating the ‘actually contagious’ patients from the ‘probably contagious’ ones.
Rain pounded on the roof, running down the eaves, and splashing into the ankle deep puddles threatening to spill over onto the wooden walkway. Wind whipped her thin cotton nightshirt, and Linley clenched the fabric to her legs to keep it from exposing all of her to the elements.
By the time she made it to the next row of rooms, she was exhausted. While trying to be as discreet as possible, Linley peeked in each doorway as she walked down the open corridor. The first room was occupied by an Indian man, and the second sat empty. The third room was also empty, but the bedcovers were turned back, and it looked like someone had been sleeping there.
At the fourth doorway, Linley paused. She saw Patrick sitting up in the narrow metal bed. It took him a moment to look up, but when he did, he smiled.
So he was real.
Her mind was a little more reliable than she thought it was.
“May I come in?” she asked. Her voice wavered—from the illness? Or was it nerves?
“Please do.” Patrick scooted over and patted the empty spot on the bed.
Linley walked across the room, suddenly feeling much weaker than before. She sat down beside him, trembling.
“The hem of your nightgown is soaked,” he told her. “You ought to know better than to come out in this weather.”
“I—I wanted to see you.”
Patrick moved closer to the wall, giving her more room on the bed. “Get under the covers.” When Linley moved to slip under the warm blankets, he winced. “Be careful of my feet. They are still very sensitive.”
“What’s wrong with them?”
“I went too long in wet boots and socks,” he explained. “Almost caused my feet to rot off. The doctor wanted to amputate three toes, but I said to hell with him.”
“Patrick!”
He laughed. “Otherwise, I’ve been a model patient. I eat when they tell me to, sleep when they tell me to, use the pot when they tell me to…I feel like a child in the nursery again. But this,” he said, squeezing her hand. “Is a very welcome surprise.”
“What is?”
“You, here, up and about on your own. Really, just seeing your face with a little life behind it is…well, let’s just say there were many times I thought I’d never see that again.”
Linley thought about how she must look to him. Her hair was dull and lifeless, and fell out in chunks. She was thin to the point of emaciation. To say that her face had life in it was a gross exaggeration. She looked like she’d crawled up from the grave.
“Patrick, when I think of all the things you’ve endured for my sake, I am humiliated,” she said. “You have seen me at my absolute worst.”
“It’s true, I have.” He tried to crack a smile. “I am on very intimate terms with your inner workings. I know your body as surely as I know my own. You have no secrets from me now, darling.”
Linley put her head in her hands. How could she ever face him again?
“I didn’t say that to embarrass you,” he said, pulling her hands down and turning her chin up to him. “I want you to know how honored I am, knowing that I was the one there for you when you needed someone the most. I felt useful. I felt…needed.”
“Oh, Patrick. Of course I need you. I wouldn’t know what to do without you.”
“Then I suppose I have a confession to make.” It was time. He needed to tell her what he’d done. What he was willing to do. “I told you that I sold Kyre House, but I did not tell you what I plan to do with the money. I have talked it over with your father, and he has agreed to take me on as a sort of partner. I will invest the money into your expeditions, and in exchange, I will be allowed to come along on any trips I choose.”
“I…I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll tolerate me a little longer. At least until the money runs out.”
“Just how much money are we talking about here?”
Patrick grinned. “Thirty thousand, give or take.”
“Thirty thousand pounds?” she cried. “Are you mad? People don’t just give away money like that! You could live like a king for the rest of your life on thirty thousand!”
“That is stretching it a bit, but yes, I could live nicely. Alone. At Wolford Abbey, sitting at my great big dining room table. Heating a hundred rooms that will never be used,” he explained. “Or we could live nicely. Sleeping in tents in the desert. Driving dog sleds in the Antarctic. Together.”
They could be together. He was the stupidest, most foolish man alive, but they could be together!
“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked. “Not even I think I’m worth thirty thousand pounds, and I have an awfully high opinion of myself.”
Patrick laughed. “You’re worth every penny. And more, if I had it.”
“But couldn’t we split it? Fifteen for you and fifteen for my father?” she asked. “I feel like you’re being cheated. You’re not very good with money, and in a few months you’ll wish you had a little something left to pay your own bills.”
“Your father and I have an agreement, and it wouldn’t be right to go back on the terms. I am a gentleman, you know.”
Linley shook her head and laughed. “Being a gentleman almost got you killed. It seems silly to abide by such a ridiculous code of honor. Don’t you ever want to behave badly once in a while?”
“I have been known to misbehave.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I don’t mean when you were a child and your cook said you could have one sweet, but you took two. I mean something really naughty.”
“Ah, well, perhaps you have me there.”
“Don’t worry,” Linley said. “Stick with me and I’ll get you into all sorts of mischief. Before long, you’ll be begging my father to let you out of your agreement.”
Linley leaned in and wrapped her arms around him. She pressed her lips to his neck, sliding them up to his ear, and across his freshly shaven jaw. With one hand, she ran her fingers through his hair, pulling just hard enough to tilt his head back. With the other, she began to unfasten the buttons of his pajama shirt.
There was no doubt in her mind they’d find themselves in all sorts of sticky situations. And—if she had anything to do with it—the sooner the better.
“Linley, I don’t think that is such a good idea.” Patrick tried to untangle himself from her arms, but Linley held him tight.
“Of course it isn’t a good idea,” she said. “It wasn’t a good idea the first time, but that did not seem to stop us.”
He shook his head. “I knew there would be consequences for what we did, and I ignored them. I put your health and happiness in jeopardy.”
“None of this was your fault,” Linley explained, running her fingers through his dark hair.
“I should have shown some self-restraint.”
“Not with me, Patrick,” she said. “Never with me.” Linley slipped her hand into the waistband of his white cotton pajamas. She felt him grow hard in her hand. “I love how I can make that happen.”
“It is a natural reaction to stimulation,” he replied. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
Linley refused to take no for an answer. “You always say that. And you’re always lying. I know what it means. It means you want me.”
“Of course I want you.”
She stroked him. “You could have me.”
Patrick shook his head. “Not here. We could get caught.”
Caught? As if she cared about that.
“Linley, we are practically in a church.”
She did not even bother to argue that, at least to the monks, the mo
nastery had been a church, too. But there was no use splitting hairs.
Linley was relentless with her stroking. She watched as Patrick quit fighting her and closed his eyes. Tipped his head back. Parted his mouth.
And just when she knew he was close, she dropped her hand.
Patrick’s eyes shot open.
Linley smiled. “I think we can both agree I am going to get what I want.”
“I feel like a cad to want you so badly after your illness,” He rolled her onto her back, hiking her nightshirt up to her waist. “But I promise I will be gentle.”
“I don’t want gentle,” she said. “I just want you.”
Linley wrapped her legs around him, hardly giving Patrick time to pull his pajamas down.
“I’ve missed you,” he said as he pushed into her. “God, I’ve missed you.”
His hands and his mouth were all over her, sometimes feather-soft, sometimes with enough force to make her hiss.
They clung to each other, demanding. Urgent. Insistent. Full of weeks worth of pent up frustrations, longing, and heedless desperation.
Linley clasped his bare buttocks, raking her nails across them, grabbing entire handfuls of the soft, white skin. She clutched him tight between her legs, grinding him against her.
But that wasn’t good enough.
She pulled her nightgown over her head, not caring if he saw her bones jutting out of her parchment skin. Or the bruises. He had seen it all before, no doubt, and she wanted to be as close to him as two people could get.
Common sense told them to keep their clothes on—especially with nothing but a screened door separating them from anyone who happened to pass by—but Patrick shucked himself out of the thin, cotton pajamas without a second thought.
He came back to her, grabbing her ankles and placing them up on his shoulders. Leaning down, he pressed Linley’s knees far, far back until they rested on either side of her ears. She lay folded up beneath him, and Patrick drove himself into her. He withdrew once again, and then drove in.
He pushed his weight down upon her. He pounded her so hard the bed pitched, and rolled, and slapped against the wall. Really, he ought to have been more gentle, but he could not control himself.
Linley didn’t seem to mind. She threaded her fingers through his hair, clawed his scalp. Moaned every time he went in up to the hilt. Cooed, and purred, and bit down hard on the inside of her own leg.
They were lovers. She hadn’t made it up, after all. She hadn’t imagined it in a fit of feverish longing. Patrick was hers for as long as she would have him. And she would have him, and have him, and have him.
“Oh, God, Patrick.” She kissed him all over his face, tasting the beads of sweat that gathered at his temples and ran down his jawline. He ground into her, bucking his hips and sending her head smacking into the headboard. Linley clawed at the metal bars, grasping them between her hands. She thought he would tear her apart. “Oh, God, Patrick. Oh, God. Oh, God.”
“Hush. Be quiet,” he gasped against her neck. “If you don’t, I’m going to stop.”
“No. No. No! I’ll be good! I’ll be—”
She bit her lips to keep her mouth shut. Between the bed creaking and their sweaty bodies slapping, she knew they were too loud. Anyone could hear them. And through the screened door, anyone could see them.
But no one walked by.
Patrick thrust on, grunting and incoherent. Linley lay folded beneath him, her head thrashing between her knees. Her eyes were clamped shut. Her face twisted in pleasure.
“I’m going to…” She moaned. “I’m definitely going to…”
And then she came. Her entire body rocked, nearly throwing Patrick off of her. He held on tight, fisting the bed sheets, letting her have every bit of the pleasure she deserved.
He lay still until her pulsing eased and her eyelashes fluttered open. Her wide eyes swam in their sockets, and as she blinked, tears gathered in their corners. Linley pried her fingers from around the metal headboard rails and ran them up and down Patrick’s back.
Every muscle was taught, strung as tight as bowstrings while he held himself back for her. His arms shook. His jaw trembled. He needed his release just as badly as Linley had needed hers.
Slowly, he began to move inside her.
She was slick and wet after her climax, and Patrick glided in and out of her body with little effort. Linley purred in his ear. Moaned. Whispered inaudible words to him as his body sailed within hers.
She lived for this, he knew.
And Patrick lived for it, too.
He had been so afraid for so long—afraid to have her, afraid to lose her. But there was no fear now, only an almost unrecognizable joy.
Patrick plunged into her with a slow, steady rhythm. Their bodies slid easily against one another. Gentle. Soft. Unrushed. He nuzzled his forehead against hers, both damp with sweat from their lovemaking. Their eyes never left each other. Not even as Patrick drew closer and closer to his release, and every part of his body screamed for him to let go, to lose control.
His hips began to move of their own accord, jerking, bouncing, and thrusting as they saw fit. His movements quickened, grew stronger, deeper. More urgent than before. He pumped against her, feeling his release building and building until he could not hold back any longer. And as he finally reached his own climax, he sobbed, crying out her name as it overtook him.
Patrick poured himself into her, unashamed for the first time in his life of the intensity of his orgasm, of the vulnerability of his wet, spent, shuddering body.
This was no mindless coupling. No breathless act between two desperate, love-starved individuals. This was a consummation. A pledging of one body to the other, that from that day forward, they would belong to each other. Through sickness or health, wealth or poverty, they would be together.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
Linley lay in Patrick’s narrow metal bed, listening to the rain splatter in the mud just outside the screen door. They held hands beneath the thin cotton sheets, drifting in and out of sleep as the afternoon passed. But as wonderful as their reunion had been, she could not shake the one undeniable truth keeping her from happiness.
“Patrick, you need that money.”
He shook his head. “I don’t care about the money.”
If he had any sense at all, he would realize what a fortune he was giving away. A hardworking man could toil six days a week and still only hope to earn fifty or sixty pounds a year. At that rate, Patrick could live for the next seventy years without ever having to lift a finger. But the more Linley prodded him, the more she realized he truly did not care about the money—which could only mean one thing…
“Are you in love with me?”
Patrick didn’t even blink at the question. “Isn’t it obvious?”
How far they had come since that day in Rabat, only six months before. How different their lives were now, all because of one chance meeting in a hotel garden. A brushing of shoulders had set off a chain of events leading Patrick half way around the world, and Linley right into his arms.
Life was funny like that—using one seemingly inconsequential event to create the turning point of two very different lives.
But Patrick hoped their lives would not be different for much longer.
“Linley,” he said. “It is true that I am in love with you. And I will continue to love you for the rest of my life, but I’m not the same man who consented to be your lover a few weeks ago.”
Linley turned in the bed to face him, to look him eye to eye. Her heart beat in her chest as she struggled to keep her breathing slow and steady.
“And I cannot, being the man I am now,” he continued. “Agree to be your lover.”
Her breathing stopped altogether. Why was he doing this to her? How could he, after all they’d been through?
But with all they had been through, could he no longer stomach her? Wasn’t it true that Patrick had seen her at her absolute worst, reduced to no more than an infant, needin
g to be bathed, and changed, and fed?
“No!” she cried. “Patrick, what are you saying? I don’t under—”
He held up his hands. “Wait. Let me finish, please.” There was a pause. He reached for her hand, and held it tight in his. “While you were sick, while I sat every night by your bedside, believing you were dying right before my eyes…I felt so helpless.”
“But you weren’t helpless! You saved me!”
“I stole you away like a petty thief. I had no more right to take you from your father than a common burglar has to pinch the family silver,” he explained. “And while I risked my life, and your life, and Schoville’s life, I realized there was one thing I could give you. One thing I had that was worth giving—my name.”
Linley’s mouth fell open.
“You see, knowing that, I cannot be your lover,” Patrick said. “I cannot agree to be anything less than your husband. I love you, Linley. And it’s all or nothing.”
She could not utter one single word to him. She simply stared, struck dumb.
“I know how you feel about marriage,” Patrick said. “I know you want to be free to come and go as you please. And I know we both have obligations on opposite sides of the world, but I want to know that, wherever you may be, you are safe and provided for.” Patrick hardly stopped to take a breath, afraid if he slowed down she would stop him. He had to get it out. He’d been waiting weeks to tell her. “I can do that for you. I can give you my title, and my money, and whatever else you want from me. Name it, and it’s yours.”
“Patrick, I will not marry you,” Linley told him. “You said it yourself that you wouldn’t wish your title on your worst enemy. Yet, you would sentence me to a lifetime of trying to live up to your good name.”
Patrick felt as if he’d been slapped, but still, Linley barreled on.
“Save your titles and your money for your heiress,” she said. “And love me for me. As I am.” Linley’s chest heaved. She knew her words hurt him, but she could not let Patrick make a mistake he would regret for the rest of his life. “For once, stop thinking of everyone else’s well-being and start thinking of your own.”
A Love That Never Tires (Linley & Patrick Book 1) Page 33
