Page 48 of A Raven Reborn

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.”

---