Kiss the Earl (8 page)

He didn't see her make a face at his back as Ella urged her horse after him. She didn't let herself think about how hot he was this time. She did, however, use the time to plot his oh-so-painful demise.

It was easy to feel Ella's eyes burning holes into his back.

Good Lord, he'd never blessed thin muslin so much in his life as when he looked down and saw the transparency of her gown's wet bodice. She had lovely breasts, that was for sure.

The horse beneath him—which was called Bacon according to the sign above his stall door—gave a snort as he turned his head to nip at Patrick's boots.

“Easy there, boy,” Patrick said with a laugh. He pitched his voice low so as to keep Miss Briley from hearing him. “I'll stop cataloging her finer points. You are right; it's not well done of me.”

As he guided Bacon toward the flat part of the opposite bank, he looked back over his shoulder. There was no sign of their pursuers, and—

He started when he caught a glimpse of Miss Briley's face. If looks could kill, he'd be skewered on the end of a very large pike, he was certain.

“We are leaving the water now,” he observed in a cheerful manner. “Out of the shade of these trees, you'll soon dry.”

“I am freezing. I've almost fallen off this stupid horse—”

“Kipper.”

“What?”

“This pair of noble steeds has been christened for breakfast foods, madam. I am on Bacon, and you are riding Kipper.”

She tossed her sinful black hair over her shoulder, the wet ropes tangling as they flew. “I don't give a crap what his name is.”

“Her.”

“Whatever. I'm really normally a very easygoing kinda girl, but this is a little much. I didn't plan on running for my life when I got here.”

Patrick pulled up Bacon in the small clearing on the bank and waited for Ella to catch up with him. He crooked a brow at her as she came alongside him, awkwardly pulling on the reins to make Kipper stop. “What did you plan, then?”

She shot him a dark look. “Nothing. I didn't plan to be here at all. All I want is to be able to get home and back to my job safely. I'm missing a huge opportunity while I'm here, and I don't know if I'll get back in time for it. This whole time-travel thing is so confusing—I might get back ten minutes after I left, or ten months. If the job is still mine when I get back, I might have to do a lot of fast talking to keep it.” Her voice faltered as she continued. “It's all I ever wanted, and now I'm not sure if I'm going to get it.”

Worry lining his brow, Patrick reached over and took Kipper's reins from Ella's hands. “Allow me to lead you.”

She sniffed, rubbing at her nose with the back of her ungloved hand. “Thanks.” She shivered a bit, and Patrick cursed himself for a cad.

“We must get you into the sun to warm. And while we go, you can tell me about this occupation that you have, the one that means everything to you.” He directed Bacon into a brisk walk, keeping Ella and her mount close. He didn't want to miss a word.

“You wouldn't be interested in this.”

“On the contrary, I would love to hear your tale.” She might be as mad as King George, but he could not bear the thought of her sadness. And if indulging her fancies would please her, then by God, he'd indulge. He prayed they were only fancies. If not, he'd be forced to face his own mystical encounter.

The trees thinned, and the path broadened, and soon they were on the road. Patrick breathed an inner sigh of relief as the sun's rays fell on Ella and her wet clothing. He should hate for her to catch cold.

“Here.” He should have thought of this before, but he was a cad and a simpleton. “Take my coat.”

She didn't murmur a polite refusal; instead, she grabbed the expensive coat and shrugged into it instantly. “Thanks.”

Cursing himself for being ten kinds of fool, Patrick clicked the horses faster. The more distance he put between them and Brownstone's men, the sooner he could get Ella out of those wet things.

Well, that was a mental picture he hadn't planned. He cleared his throat. Perhaps he could distract her with her own stories.

“Tell me about your world, Ella. Your job. What is so important that you are missing by being here?”

Her shoulders hunched forward as she clutched the coat tighter around her. Her mouth was pulled down at the corners, the rosiness in her cheeks somewhat brighter for her sad expression.

She was lovely; there was no denying that.

“Well, I told you I'm from the future.”

He painted an interested smile on his face. “Please continue.” He was a scoundrel and a rogue, lusting after her while she was so downtrodden. He'd keep a tight hold on himself from now on.

“In the future, everyone works. I know that around here, only the lower classes have jobs, right?”

He nodded, pulling on Kipper's reins to keep her from nibbling on a gorse bush at the edge of the lane. It really was too bad they had to rush; this was such a lovely part of the countryside, far enough from London that the air smelled sweet and clean, but close enough to ensure that the roads were well kept and well traveled.

“Yes, the lower classes are employed. Granted, there are those that have made their fortunes through trade, but they are considered by most of society to be less than.” Patrick shrugged. “I do not see such a problem with it myself, but since I am not the arbiter of society, what can I do?”

Ella rolled her beautiful eyes. “You could speak up for them.”

“I could, and then I would see myself painted as a radical and cast out. Truly, you do not understand the
ton
.”

“I understand that you're a good guy, but the jerks win when the good guys don't do anything.”

He was torn between being flattered by the compliment, stung by the rebuke, and confused by her manner of speaking. He settled for moving on.

“So, in your world, most are employed.”

“Right. In my time, most people earn their own way in the world. And that includes women.”

Patrick was proud of himself. His eyebrows stayed quite where they belonged at her outrageous statement.

“I'm an artist. I draw for a living.”

“Quite a respectable talent for a lady.”

Ella laughed, looking over at him with a smirk. “Not the way I draw. I draw in a man's world. It's not exactly pastoral scenes and portraits of nobility. I draw comic books. Cartoons,” she added, probably noting the blank look on his face.

“Please continue,” he said simply.

She pursed her lips and looked straight between Kipper's ears. The road split ahead, one fork heading northward and the other east. She seemed extraordinarily interested in that fork.

“I draw stories about justice, about people doing the right thing. Heroes with special powers who go around the world and do incredible stuff. I draw my favorite hero, actually, the one who's inspired me since I was a kid. Well.” She glanced over at him, and for a moment Patrick thought she would cry. “That's what I did do. Before I got here. And now? I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to do that again.” She set her jaw and flashed him a falsely bright smile. “But it doesn't matter right now. We've got to find your fiancée, right?”

Patrick felt himself nod, but what he really wanted to do was dash away the single tear he'd seen track down her cheek. He doubted, however, that she'd appreciate his solicitude.

“I'll ride ahead for a moment and ascertain which road we should take.”

He knew precisely where they were, but letting her regain her composure seemed to be the best course of action. He kicked Bacon lightly in the sides, leaving Ella to follow. He hoped it was the right thing to do. Lately, however, his judgment had been very suspect.

* * *

Damn it, she didn't want to cry in front of him. Ella hoped he hadn't noticed the single tear that escaped her control, but luck hadn't really been on her side lately.

Ella snorted at the understatement, causing her horse to look back at her as if to say,
Hey, that's my job.

“Sorry, Kip, but it's true.” Ella patted Kipper's neck as the horse plodded ahead after Patrick. “Since I've been here, I've had the worst luck I've ever had. Maybe it's because I traveled through a broken mirror. Seven years bad luck and all that crap.”

She dashed away the tear and started mentally listing everything that had happened in the last, oh, eighteen hours or so. She'd been accidentally abducted, thrown from a horse, broken a shoe and thrown them away, tore her feet all to hell, fell out of a window, been chased, and been soaked in a stream.

“Well, that's seven things. Maybe I'll get off with that?” Ella didn't have much hope of that. She started searching the vegetation at the side of the road for four-leaf clovers—anything to combat this string of bad juju.

Before she could find one though, Patrick had turned Bacon—a ridiculous name for a horse, but she kind of liked it—and ridden back to her side.

“We shall take the east fork,” Patrick said, his white sleeves fluttering in the breeze. He looked like a well-dressed pirate, his hair tousled and wild, and not wearing his jacket. He was gorgeous, smiling at her from atop his horse. Ella tried really hard not to bury her nose into his coat just to smell him.

He's going to be married to someone else, you moron. He's taken. Unavailable. And you're going to be getting out of here soon anyway, hopefully. That makes him totally off-limits.

“The north fork would be faster, but the baron's men are more likely to go that way.”

Ella wrapped Kipper's reins tighter around her hands. “Faster? Where are we going, anyway?”

Patrick looked back the way they'd come, his eyes slitted against the bright sunshine. The green of the countryside made a beautiful backdrop, and Ella's chest went suddenly tight. She wanted to draw him like that, she realized. His shirt had pulled over his arms with the movement, illustrating the lean muscle hidden beneath it. His thighs gripped the saddle, his form-fitting pants hiding no part of his strength. The reins lay in his hands expertly, and the horse's ears pricked to attention, waiting for a single command from his master. Patrick was so handsome, and her mind took a snapshot right then.

When she left here, she'd draw this moment. It was too beautiful to forget.

“We are going to my country estate. It is near Cromer, in Essex. Amelia's country home marches alongside mine, so logically, it is the first place we should search.” Patrick clicked to Bacon, and they rode forward again. “The east road will add about six hours to our journey, but we should be able to avoid the baron's men.”

Ella nearly groaned aloud at the thought of six total hours in the saddle, never mind six
additional
hours. “So how long will it take us to get there?”

“About three days.”

Her jaw went slack. “Are you kidding me?”

He shot her a surprised look. “I beg your pardon?”

“I can't ride a horse for three days! My butt is already killing me. You can't be that cruel.”

He shrugged a shoulder indifferently. “Well, we could walk, I suppose, but your injured feet may pain you…”

Ella gritted her teeth and stared straight ahead. “Forget it. Let's go.”

This would be tough, there was no denying that. Her wet dress was still sticking to her, despite the warm sunshine and Patrick's coat. The bandages inside her boots were soaked with creek water and her foot was throbbing.

She decided that making conversation might take her mind off her predicament, so she gave it a shot.

“So you probably think I'm crazy, right?”

Patrick's face went pale, and Ella smirked inwardly. She'd surprised him, that was for sure.

“I never said—”

“You don't have to. Your face when I tell you about home says it all.” Ella adjusted her knee around the pommel. Her lower leg was starting to fall asleep. “Ask me anything about home. What will it take to prove it to you? You've already seen my clothes from last night, and I know that they're different than anything you've seen before. My nails are blue and my hair is purple. Seems like you'd be at least interested in how that happened.”

He didn't look over at her, obviously pretending to be very interested in Bacon's direction. “You have never ridden a horse before. Do you walk everywhere?”

She couldn't help but be glad he'd chosen that particular question. “Nope. We have cars. Automobiles. Horseless carriages. Almost everyone has one, and you can drive hundreds of miles in a day.”

“Madness.”

She laughed. “Nope. It's true. In less than a hundred years, people will start using cars as transportation. They're powered by engines that burn fuel to turn the wheels. And that's what people will use to get around. How many miles is it to your house?”

“Almost a hundred and forty.”

She did a little mental calculation. “If we had a car and roads like in my time, we'd get there in less than three hours.”

He stared at her, completely incredulous. “That cannot be correct.”

“It can.” Ella thought for a second, wondering if she should really blow his mind, then decided to heck with it. “And for longer distances, there are planes. They're like big metal birds that people can sit inside, and they fly from one destination to another.”

He shook his head. “Well, Miss Briley, you certainly have some fantastic tales.”

“That's because they're true. Ask me anything. I'm telling the truth, Patrick. I'm not crazy, and you know it.”

“How can I know that? I do not know you.”

That statement hurt her feelings more than she was prepared to admit, but she lifted her chin as they turned their horses down the eastern fork. “Well, you will know me if you talk to me for the next three days. Ask me anything.”

His groan of defeat was almost funny. “Very well. Tell me about your drawings.”

Ella grinned. “I draw Admiral Action. He's a superhero, which means he's like a human but with extra powers. He can fly and run really fast, and…”