Page 63 of A Raven Reborn

Daisy scooted even closer to the edge of her seat. “What happened? Did he fall down? Was there blood?”

“I’m sure you’ll be disappointed, but I don’t know the details. I wasn’t witness to the actual punch. Edward did have a swollen lip, and it had undoubtedly bled.”

Daisy cocked her head to one side. “Did you just call him Edward? No wonder you were down there for so long. I’m going to need the full story.”

ChapterTwenty-One

The following day, they boarded another train. They stopped at Langley Hall just long enough to freshen up, eat a good meal, and obtain a carriage for the rest of the journey to Rosie’s mother. That was where he probably would have shipped Rosie off to if she had agreed. He didn’t trust himself to spend a night in his own estate with her, which was why it was a quick stop. He may not be able to keep his word to Ash otherwise. Even last night he’d had to take himself in hand after going to bed.

Had she done the same? He watched her from across the carriage. Perhaps she didn’t even know how to pleasure herself. He would soon make sure she did. Thank god for the heavy blankets over their laps. He was hard just thinking about teaching her how to touch herself. This may end up being the longest carriage ride of his life.

Rosie’s nervousness made it a little easier to concentrate on her needs rather than his own. Once again, Daisy mostly slept. But Rosie’s eyes hardly blinked for the entire journey. She didn’t say a word. Even when he reassured her that everything would be fine and that he would keep her safe, her smile did not reach her eyes, and she merely nodded.

By the time the carriage finally pulled up near the small cottage, the sun was getting low in the sky. They could have saved some time by simply hiring a coach from the nearest train station, but he’d stopped at Langley Hall for a reason. Although he generally preferred to downplay his status, he wanted Rosie’s stepfather to know what he was up against from the moment they arrived. He helped her to alight from the well-appointed carriage. It was pulled by four perfectly matched bays and two liveried footmen made sure that everything was in order, before standing at attention awaiting further instruction.

Rosie had sent a letter to her mother ahead of time, so that her arrival wouldn’t come as too much of a shock. Her mother stood in the doorway, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, a nervous smile on her face. As they walked toward her, movement to Patrick’s left caught his attention. A man stood in the shadows, sneering at them. A man Patrick recognized.

“You’re the bastard who stabbed me.”

After a brief moment, recognition dawned on the man's features. “You attacked me first! I was just trying to take back what was mine!”

Patrick still didn’t understand why that man was here, though. He looked back at Rosie in search of some kind of explanation. She was as white as a sheet. That’s when he finally realized why the man was here. This was the devil who had terrorized Rosie.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he charged and slammed the blackguard against the wall. “You’ll pay for what you did to her!” he growled in the man’s face and then plowed his fist into his stomach. “Only cowards force themselves on women.” He punched him again. He’d never wanted to kill a man so much in his life.

“She wanted it.” he hissed, breathlessly, trying to pull out of Patrick’s iron grip. “She’s a whore.”

Patrick’s fist connected with the bottom of the man’s jaw with a crunch and Patrick threw him onto the ground.

A commotion broke out at the front door. Patrick looked up just in time to see Rosie’s mother tumble to the ground. An older version of the scum he’d just dealt with was marching toward him with a shotgun. Wicked Warren, presumably.

“Leave my son alone!” he shouted. His words were slightly slurred, and he was not entirely steady on his feet, but he leveled the gun at Patrick.

An explosion ripped from the barrel of the gun, and to Patrick’s horror, Rosie threw her body in front of his. It seemed as if the shot had completely missed them, but before he could make sure she wasn’t hurt, Rosie was charging the man. His Rosie was charging a man with a gun, and who clearly had no qualms about shooting. Icy fear gripped his stomach like a vice as he ran after her.

She screamed like a banshee. “You’ll not take him from me!”

The man’s eyes widened in shock, and he shuffled backwards. He tripped and lost his balance. The gun exploded again, firing far over all of their heads, but its recoiling energy propelled him onto the ground. His head hit the edge of a rock with such force, it made a sickening thud, and blood splattered the side of the cottage.

Patrick grabbed Rosie’s shoulders and spun her around to face him. He frantically looked over every part of her body. “Are you hurt?” She’d charged a madman with a gun in order to save him.

“I don’t think so.” She threw his hands off of her. “Are you?”

He shook his head and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly against him. “I’m fine, Rosie. I’m fine.”

He was certainly better than the man on the ground. Even from here, Patrick could tell he was dead. A little river of blood ran from underneath his head and was slowly making its way straight for Rosie’s mother. She sat on the ground where she’d fallen, a hand over her wide open mouth, probably unable to move from shock. He needed to get her up before the blood reached her.

He stepped back and summoned a footman with a wave. “Get her back into the carriage please.”

“No!” she shouted. “My mother! I need to help her!”

Patrick grasped her shoulders firmly. “Rosie, listen to me.”

She stopped fighting and looked at him, her eyes wide and her body trembling. “Your mother is fine. We’re not going to leave her. I promise. I will make sure she’s unharmed and get her over to the carriage to join you, but I need to know that you’re safe while I take care of that. Do you trust me?”

She nodded, tears streaming down her face.

“Then go with the footman and don’t look back this way. Can you do that for me please?”

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