Chapter 3

“The weather is turning colder, Patrick. There is an extra bed in here, I wish you would reconsider,” Kimberly said as she and Patrick prepared the evening meal.

Patrick had insisted on staying in the shed even when she offered him the other bed. He knew it would be too close for comfort and as much as he wanted her, he didn’t want to give in to the temptation.

Neither of them mentioned the kiss shared between them the day they met, but it was constantly on Patrick’s mind. The feel of her lips against his, her soft curves molded to his body, had his cock at attention almost constantly when he was around her. He was thankful that his trousers were loose enough to hide the proof of his desire for her. He didn’t want to scare her off or give her cause throw him out.

Over the past two weeks, he’d finished most of the repairs she needed done, including more permanent repairs to the roof. Together they had planted more vegetables hoping to harvest them before the cold set in.

She’d taught him how to cook and he taught her how to use a bow and arrow. They’d caught a few of the chickens that had wandered while Patrick was repairing the coop and decided that instead of putting them back in the coop, they’d be better suited for the supper table.

Patrick had hunted before with his brother and father so it was relatively easy for him to find a deer. They hauled the dead animal to the local butcher for processing and since Kimberly didn’t have enough money to pay for it, Patrick offered himself up as a trade. He’d do work around the butcher’s house and shop in exchange for the cost of processing the deer.

It worked out well for all parties involved and when Patrick bagged a second deer, they had more than enough food for the two of them for the upcoming winter.

“I will be fine in the shed, Kimberly.”

Kimberly turned to face him, and he thought he saw a look of sadness on her face at his refusal. “Please, Patrick. I would feel better knowing you were inside the house where it is warmer.” She blushed when he looked her in the eye but didn’t turn her gaze away from him.

“When you look at me like that, how can I refuse?”

“Thank you. I can finish things here if you would like to fetch your belongings and bring them inside.”

He turned and walked toward the door, a quick glance over his shoulder at her as he opened it. He returned the smile she flashed at him, then pulled the door closed behind him. Kimberly returned to prepare supper for the two of them.

She thought daily about the kiss they shared the first day they met. All sorts of sinful thoughts ran through her mind at the thought of that kiss and when she recalled seeing him standing naked on the bank of the creek. She knew it wasn’t proper to think that way of a man who wasn’t her husband, but seeing him every day made it difficult for her to think of much else.

A loud crash from outside brought her back to reality. She set the knife she was holding down on the table and rushed out the door. Glancing around in the dim evening light, she saw what was left of the shed. It had collapsed, and the roof rested on the pile of boards that were once the walls and door.

Kimberly strained her eyes to see Patrick lying beneath the ruins of the shed. She ran to him quickly, falling to her knees beside him and calling out his name.

“Patrick! Wake up! Patrick!” she cried, nudging his shoulder. He stirred and opened his eyes.

“What happened?” he asked, unsure of his surroundings.

“The shed collapsed on you. Are you all right?” she rose to her feet and began pulling as many boards off him as she could. She tried to lift the roof but was unsuccessful. “This is too heavy!” she cried.

“Kimberly,” he breathed. “Go find help.”

“I do not want to leave you here alone, Patrick.”

“Go. I will be fine,” he said, trying to keep his voice strong for her sake. “Please.”

Kimberly dropped to her knees beside him again and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. “I will be back soon with help,” she whispered. She rose to her feet and headed to the corral for her horse. She took off on the horse and headed into town, looking for help.

“Please, you have to hurry!” she cried to the butcher who was just closing up his shop. “It’s Patrick! My shed collapsed on him, and he is trapped beneath the fallen roof!”

“Then we must go!” he said, mounting his horse. “Mason! Mason! Get out here!” he added, calling to his son.

“What’s all the ruckus, pop?” Mason replied as he walked out of the shop.

“Kimberly’s shed collapsed on Patrick, and he is trapped. Get on your horse, boy, we’ve got to go!”

Mason mounted his horse, then followed his father and Kimberly up the road. They arrived just a few minutes later and worked frantically to free Patrick from under the heavy roof of the shed.

“Go see if you can find something to use as a lever to pry this roof up, Mason!” his father shouted.

Kimberly kneeled at Patrick’s side, holding his hand and talking to him to keep him awake. “Stay with me,” she breathed. “I cannot lose you, too.”

He glanced up at her and smiled despite the pain he felt.

“Hurry, Robert! Please!” Kimberly cried to the butcher.

“We are doing the best we can, Kimberly.”

Mason returned a few minutes later with a long, thick board and immediately shoved one end under the roof. He pushed up on the opposite end, but the roof didn’t budge. “Kimberly, we need you to pull Patrick out when we lift the roof,” Robert said as he walked over to help his son.

Both men pushed up on the board, grunting with the exertion. It was enough to raise the roof and allow Kimberly to pull Patrick free. He groaned at the pain it caused but was relieved that he was no longer trapped.

“We need to get him inside,” she said.

The men dropped the board to the ground and walked over to Patrick. They lifted him by his shoulders and feet and carried him into the house. Kimberly threw back the quilt and directed them to the bed in the far corner of the room.

Patrick groaned and winced in pain when he was placed on the thin mattress. Kimberly thanked Robert and Mason and asked them to send the doctor as soon as possible. She pulled a chair up beside the bed and held Patrick’s hand.

“The doctor will be here soon,” she whispered.

“Kimberly,” he uttered, barely above a whisper, then closed his eyes.

She wiped a tear from her eye as she surveyed his injuries. His shirt had spots of blood on it, and his trousers were torn, blood seeping through from his legs. She reached over and unbuttoned his shirt to see how badly he was injured. She felt his hand grab hers and hold them to his chest.

When Patrick grabbed her hands, he startled Kimberly. She locked eyes with him and slowly brought her hands away from his shirt. “I -- I just wanted to see how badly y -- you were injured,” she said, unable to bring her eyes away from his.

Patrick’s hand fell to his side, and he closed his eyes once more, wincing with each breath that he took. There was a knock on the door, and Kimberly went to answer it.

“Doctor Wright. It was good of you to come so quickly,” she said, directing him to where Patrick was as she explained what had happened.

“I will need a few minutes to examine him, Mrs. Paxton,” Doctor Wright said, then pulled the quilt closed, leaving Kimberly to stand there staring at it.

She paced the floor nervously, worried about Patrick’s condition. He could have been killed, she thought to herself.

Kimberly stopped her frantic pacing and busied herself with cleaning up the table from the supper that was never eaten. She swept the floor, wiped the table, added another log to the fireplace, then swept the floor again, all in an effort to keep from pulling back the quilt and checking on Patrick. The doctor is with him, she had to remind herself.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, but was actually only about 30 minutes, Doctor Wright emerged from behind the quilt with a worried look on his face. Kimberly rushed to him, her heart racing in anticipation at learning how badly Patrick was injured.

“How is he, doctor?” she asked, attempting and failing to hide the anxiety in her voice.

“I’m afraid it doesn’t look good,” the doctor replied.

“Then what is stopping you?”

Jeffrey gazed at Penelope in shock. Was she just teasing him? he wondered. “I do not want you to think ill of me, Penelope.”

“I could never think ill of you, Jeffrey. Over the last few weeks, you have been nothing but a gentleman. I am beginning to think you do not feel the way everyone tells me you do.”

“I do feel that way, Penelope. I -- care for you a great deal.” He didn’t want to use the word love with her just yet; he wasn’t sure if this was all just a ruse.

“Then why have you not tried to kiss me?”

Jeffrey turned to face her; with one leg over the bench, he straddled it. He reached out, took her hand, and held it gently. Their eyes locked, and Jeffrey wasn’t sure what he saw in the depths of those beautiful amber eyes, but he was willing to find out.

Penelope’s lips parted slightly, and her bosom rose and fell with her deep, heavy breathing. She leaned into Jeffrey and closed her eyes, hoping he would take control and allow her to experience her first kiss.

Jeffrey leaned forward, and with his free hand, caressed her cheek. He ran his hand along the nape of her neck, pulling her closer and brushing his lips lightly against hers. The immediate contact of her lips to his sent waves of desire crashing over him, and he fought to keep the kiss light. Penelope moaned softly into the kiss, parting her lips further and seeking out his tongue with her own.

He wondered where she’d learned to kiss like that when he felt her tongue graze past his lips. He gave up the fight and plunged his tongue into her mouth, releasing her hand and wrapping both arms around her to bring her closer to him. She fisted his shirt, then released it, running her hands up his chest and around his neck to tangle in his hair.

He pulled her closer, so close; she was nearly in his lap, as he took the kiss deeper. He ran one hand up her side, finding the swell of one of her breasts and caressing it softly, his thumb playing over the hardened nipple through the fabric of her dress and undergarments. Jeffrey forced himself to break the kiss, pushing her away slightly and gazing into her eyes. His cock was achingly hard behind the fabric of his trousers.

“I want you more than I want to breathe, Penelope,” he said, his voice husky with desire.

“Yes,” she replied, her breathing ragged, her voice barely audible.

Her eyelids were heavy with desire, and Jeffrey fought to keep himself from pulling her close and kissing her again. “We cannot do this,” he said.

Penelope’s eyes widened at his last statement. “Why?”

“Because it is not proper.”

“I am tired of being proper, Jeffrey. I want to know what it feels like to be loved by a man like you.”

Jeffrey was shocked by her words. “Do you know what you are asking of me, Penelope?”

“Yes.”

“Are you not worried about what your father will say?”

“I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions, Jeffrey.”

“I understand that, Penelope. But doesn’t he have a dowry set aside for your husband-to-be?”

“Yes.”

“What would become of you if your husband-to-be discovered you were no longer a virgin?”

“I do not care about that.”

“I cannot in good conscience grant your request, Penelope.”

“Why not? Do I repulse you? Is that it?”

“Quite the contrary, Penelope. I told you I want you more than I want my next breath, but I do not want you to regret your decision.”

Their conversation was interrupted by Niles. “Master Jeffrey,” Niles said as he approached. “Your father requests your company in his study immediately.”

Jeffrey grumbled a response as he rose to his feet and helped Penelope to hers. “See to it that Lady Penelope gets home, Niles,” he said as he dropped a quick kiss on her cheek, then walked quickly up the long path to the castle.

“Lady Penelope,” Niles said, bowing slightly. “I shall call the carriage to take you home,” he added as he turned and walked up the long footpath.

“Thank you, Niles,” she replied as she followed closely behind.

“So what was so important that you dragged me away from Penelope, father?”

“This,” he replied, shoving a newspaper at him.

The paper was opened to the society page, a picture of Penelope covering half of one side. Beneath her picture, the caption read: Lady Penelope Summerfield is looking for a husband. Her family is offering up a handsome dowry for the lucky man who claims her hand in marriage.

“I was already aware of this, father,” Jeffrey replied as he shoved the paper back at his father.

“You do not realize what this means?”

“No.”

“It means that you could very well be the lucky man this caption refers to.”

Jeffrey rose to his feet and paced the floor in front of the massive fireplace in his father’s study. He ran his hands through his hair and let out a heavy sigh. He would propose to Penelope in a heartbeat if he knew it was the right thing to do.

She’d wanted him to be her first, regardless of the consequences. Who better to take her maidenhood from her than her future husband? “Jeffrey?” his father asked.

He stopped his pacing and turned his gaze to his father. “We do not need the dowry, and she could have any man she wants, father.”

“But you are already courting her, my son.”

“Yes, but I feel as if her heart is still with Patrick.”