Chapter Four
They were only a short walk away from the townhouse that Patrick owned. Dublin was a tightly-compacted city, and after just a few blocks of walking, they came to an area that felt rich and luxurious. Patrick insisted on carrying her backpack, and as she turned around to look at the elegant homes, she felt oddly light.
There was a kind of fairytale charm to the townhouses on Patrick's street, lit up as they were against the darkness. The steeped roofs above, the elegant doors, the black wrought iron fences preserving their jealously green little yards. It was a beautiful place.
"I feel like the Little Match Girl," she said, walking by Patrick's side.
He shot her an amused look.
"Isn't that the story where the little girl watches all the people at the window?"
"It is," she said, glancing at him. "A lot of people think it's really sad, but I've always liked it. She gets warm, and then she finds all the people that she truly loves and who truly love her."
"She dies of cold and malnutrition because no one could be bothered to look the hell up," Patrick retorted. "But look, here we are."
His house was especially handsome, and once inside, Natalie looked around with interest. The furnishings were lavish, but there was restraint in the decor. The house was an eclectic mix of traditional and modern. The perfectly maintained brass fireplace screen had to be a hundred years old, but the flat screen television tucked into the cabinet was state of the art, as was the security system that Patrick dialed in to.
"I have to admit, this isn't what I expected," she said, and Patrick shot her an amused look, slinging his jacket over a chair.
"And what did you expect, pet?" he said.
For some reason, the endearment made her shiver a little, the pleasure a silvery feeling that ran up her spine. She had to shrug it off before she could continue speaking to him like a rational person.
"I don't know, perhaps something ultramodern and sparse? Or maybe you would have gone the other way, and everything would have come from a very specific year in, like, 1887 or something."
Patrick chuckled, shaking his head. Now that he was in his own space, there was something easy about him; a little looser, a little lighter. She found that she liked the change, and she drifted to stand close to him as he rummaged in a closet in the hall.
"I like to think that I have a little more sense than that," he said absently. "I love the history of my home, but I am not so foolish as to think that everything was better in the good old days just because I wasn't around to see the bad of it."
"Very sensible," she said with a smile.
He brought out an armful of blankets and a pillow, settling them onto the couch in a small library nook. There was something immensely soothing about the alcove, and as she looked around Natalie found herself smiling with pleasure.
"Better than the bus station?" he asked teasingly, but she smiled at him.
"I'm sure you know it is. Thank you. I know this will be very comfortable."
"Good. I still have a bit of work to do, so I think I'll do that. You should sleep whenever you like, but if you want a shower first, the bathroom on this floor is right down the hall."
"Sounds good."
He turned away, and without thinking too hard about what she was doing, she took his hand, stopping him. She breathed against the shock that she felt when skin touched skin. She thought she saw him feeling it as well, but he remained silent.
"Thank you," she said softly. "For everything. I didn't exactly make it easy on you, but you're helping me anyway."
For a moment, Natalie thought that he would go stiff and formal on her, but when Patrick smiled at her, it warmed her from the crown of her head to the soles of her feet.
"You are very welcome, Natalie."
The shower was spartan but welcoming, and as she delighted in using up as much hot water as she wanted, she thought of how strange a turn things had taken. She thought that she was headed for another night at the hostel — at best — and now here she was, in a beautiful townhouse with a man who made her blood sing.
He's kind, so very kind, she thought, but if she were being honest with herself, she would have known that it was more than that. There was something about Patrick that made her yearn for him, and that was just a very bad idea. She’d had her fill of love for the moment, thank you very much, and the last thing that she wanted was to find herself infatuated with a man who, while kind, likely alphabetized his socks by brand and order number.
Natalie climbed out of the shower, drying herself on an enormous towel that was ridiculously soft. She had to admit that being on the road made you pay more attention to these simple luxuries. She was fortunate that her nightgown, a white cotton number with only a bit of cream ribbon at the hem for decoration was clean.
The couch in the little reading nook was absurdly comfortable, but for some reason, even when she was tucked in, she couldn't sleep.
Well, I can just read until I feel tired, I guess, she thought.
The books covered a variety of topics, and she found a collection of Sherlock Holmes stories she had never gotten through before. Despite her odd situation, she fell into the stories with ease. When a clock somewhere in the house struck midnight, she looked up with a yawn.
She knew that she should get to sleep, and just as she turned over and tugged the blanket around her shoulders, something occurred to her:
Did I ever hear Patrick go up the stairs to his own room?
The question was one that she tried to put out of her mind, but it nagged at her, nipping at her mind like a dog insisting on play. Finally, she had to give in to her own impulses. Natalie rose from the bed, draping one of the lovely warm quilts around her shoulders. The temperature had dropped significantly over the course of the night, and she shivered as she made her way silently through the house. She decided that she wouldn't go upstairs, which she assumed was a more personal space, but there was nothing wrong with stretching her legs a little before bed, was there?
Natalie was just thinking that perhaps she was wrong, perhaps she had simply not noticed Patrick making his way upstairs, when she realized that light shone from under a cracked door. For a moment, she was worried about privacy, but then a small and rebellious impulse struck her. Biting her lip slightly, Natalie pushed the door open, ready to reprimand Patrick sternly for staying up past his bedtime. What she saw made her swallow the words quickly, and she looked at the scene before her in surprise.
Patrick's study was paneled in dark wood and featured a computer system that she could recognize as state of the art. His desk was an imposing edifice of oak and leather, and she supposed that it would have been quite impressive if it hadn't been for the man slumped over it.
For a moment, seeing his limp form slumped down with his head on the desk, Natalie feared the worst. Just as she started for him, forever, a loud snore came from the half-prone man, and she giggled a little instead.
She knew that she should simply close the door and go back to her own space, but something held her back. This was a scene that felt as if it had been repeated many many times. She was probably intruding. And yet...
Natalie drifted into the study, letting the door close behind her. She felt oddly daring as she ventured behind the desk, a place that only Patrick himself occupied. She felt as if she couldn't take her eyes off of him, and now that he was well and truly asleep, she only wanted to look at him. Natalie stood next to where he sat at the desk, studying him intently.
He was an astonishingly good looking man, and in sleep, he was relaxed enough that he looked far younger than his thirty-four years. There was something undeniably sensuous about his parted lips, about the way his dark hair tumbled over his forehead. Even the rise and fall of his breath made her sigh a little. It seemed like such an intimate thing.
Before Natalie could stop herself, she reached out to brush a lock of hair back from his brow. She was startled to find his hair so soft, and it was all she could do to avoid running her fingers through his hair.
He sighed a little in his sleep, making Natalie flinch back a little, but then he settled again, pillowing one arm under his head.
He really does work too much if falling asleep at his desk is a regular occurrence.
She paused, wondering what she was going to do, but then she shrugged. There was no reason not to be kind to him after all.
“Patrick,” she whispered. “It's time to go to bed. You can't sleep here, you'll give yourself the most awful crick in your neck...”
He roused at her words, but when he blinked those gorgeous blue eyes at her, she knew that he was half-awake at best. There was something incredibly adorable about the way he looked at her, and she grinned.
“Come on, I'll put you to bed,” she said, and he grumbled.
“I'm not a child,” he said, but it seemed to be more for form's sake than anything else. He stood up when she pushed him on the shoulder.
“You know who says that? Children,” she said with satisfaction. “Now all right, let's—”
She was cut off as he looped one arm over her neck. He was not leaning all of his weight on her, but she could definitely feel him as he pressed against her. She felt that longing open up in her again, and Natalie quickly told herself that she was not here to have a fling with over-worked Irish businessmen.
“Come on,” she said putting a bit of sternness into her voice. “You can't sleep here. At the very least, it will make your clothes all ratty. Now, to find your bedroom...”
The townhouse was tall and slender, and soon enough, she found a staircase that led up to the second floor. It was a winding thing, a spiral stretched out, and she bit her lip, taking extra care to keep her steps steady. It had been funny enough when he was asleep at his desk, but she had to say that she found absolutely nothing funny about the idea of Patrick stumbling and tumbling down these very stairs very late at night.
“You really need to make better decisions,” she muttered as they made it to the second floor. She had not meant anything by it, but she was startled when his head turned towards her and a slow, distinctly lupine grin crossed his face.
“I don't have any problems with this decision at all.”
Natalie started to ask him what she meant by that, but then Patrick stood a little straighter, one large hand coming to cup her cheek. His touch was absurdly warm, and she couldn't stop herself from leaning into his touch, no matter what it might mean for her peace of mind later on.
She had only a moment to figure out what he was doing before he kissed her, and despite his sleepiness, there was something sensual and sure about it. Before this kiss, Natalie might have thought that no man who was so grim and so very set on making sure that things were done a certain way would kiss with no passion at all. Now, though, she could see that that was absolutely not the case for Patrick.
The kiss was soft and lingering, asking for nothing at all. She had never thought that a simple kiss could be so frankly arousing, so very exciting and needy all at once, and for a long moment, she simply leaned into it. It was the kiss that Natalie had wanted all of her life and simply never known about it.
She felt his arm loop around the back of her waist, drawing her closer and pressing her small form against Patrick's larger one. She thought that he was strong before, but right now, pressed flat against his body, she could tell that he was beyond muscular, powerful like a fighter or athlete.
The kiss was delicious, but when he slid his tongue along the plumpness of her lower lip, she made a startled sound. Natalie would have said that she never wanted to wake up out of that sensual, sensuous haze, but now she realized how mad this was.
"I can't," she squeaked, flushing a little at how embarrassed she sounded. "I can't... I just can't..."
She knew that in situations like this, she was meant to be truly in control. She needed to have her wits around her, and in the past she always did. One terrifying night in London, a drunk man had grabbed her for a kiss, and she made him drop her with nothing more than a stern word. Now, though, Natalie's voice wavered like a plucked violin string, and she wondered a little wildly if Patrick could sense how little she actually wanted him to stop.
For a moment, Patrick was perfectly still. She wondered if he would stop, if he could stop. Then, reluctantly, he pulled away, looking a little more awake.
"I'm... I'm sorry about that," he said, his accent sounding thicker than it had before. "Truly I am. I didn't mean to... When you were helping me and all..."
"No harm, no foul," she said, smiling with just a little bit of uncertainty in her voice. "But maybe you can make it the rest of the way to your bed on your own?"
A fleeting wistful look slipped across his face, and she could tell in that moment how much he wanted her to accompany him. Then it was gone, replaced by a rueful smile and a nod.
"That would likely be for the best, yes," he said. "I'll say goodnight, and perhaps by morning you will forgive my sins."
"No, no sins here," she said with a brief smile. "Like I said, no harm, no foul."
"Ah, a very perfect and apt saying from the deep traditions of America, I see."
"You get silly when you're tired," she said, a little alarmed at how very fond she sounded.
"I do. Good night, pet."
Before she could turn away from him, he reached for her hand, turning it palm up. The kiss he planted there was soft and light, more gentle than she had thought a kiss would be. When he dropped her hand and turned to walk away, her palm still tingled. She closed her hand over it as if she were hiding away a prize.
Natalie shook her head.
This is ridiculous. I have known him for a handful of hours, and if I am being very frank, I am lucky that I have not gotten into some very serious trouble by being this careless.
She told herself similar things all the way back to the couch, and when she tucked herself in, she thought again of how badly this might have gone if Patrick was a little more cruel, a little more dangerous. However, the kiss he had given her tingled, and before she dropped off to bed, she wondered what it would be like to enjoy more of his kisses. To allow him to take more liberties than he had and how good they might feel.