The Christmas Eve Daughter_A Time Travel Novel_The Sequel to The Christmas Eve Letter by Elyse Douglas

Author:Elyse Douglas [Douglas, Elyse]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Fiction, Christmas novel, time travel
Publisher: Broadback
Published: 2018-09-12T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 23

Startled, the two thugs whirled toward the sound.

Eve jolted to attention, hearing the rushing of her breath. She knew that voice. It was Patrick’s! Her body surged with new life, and before she could stop herself, she shouted, “Patrick!”

And then Patrick Gantly emerged from the darkness, standing tall and resolute in the single pool of lamplight. He was hatless, wearing a dark suit, his face grim and hard, his dark hair gleaming, his hands hidden behind his back.

The goons stiffened, and their menacing eyes narrowed on him. They shuffled in front of the ladies, knives raised in a threat.

“And a good wife she is, gentlemen,” Patrick continued. “But I warn you, she is not one to be trifled with, and from the looks of it, you two beard splitters did just that. Ah, yes, and now I’m afraid there will be hell to pay.”

Eve’s heart jumped. She stood stunned, thrilled and shaking with relief and joy, despite the knife that was pointed at her throat. She wanted to slap the thing away, run to Patrick and have him catch her up in his arms.

“Are you all right, Eve?” Patrick asked in a smooth, even voice.

“Yes… Yes… I’m fine, Patrick.”

“You don’t look so fine right now, Eve. You’ve attracted the wrong sort to you. Two clueless cowards, I think.”

“Who are you?” the fat one shouted, snarling out the words.

“I’m Patrick, and I am assuming you work for Big Jim Clancy.”

“I have a knife to her throat. You don’t assume anything, or she dies.”

“Ah, yes… the coward’s way,” Patrick said, coolly. “Don’t fight the man, threaten the lady with a big knife. You disappoint me, bootlicks. Yes, you do. Little boys and cowards, with knives. I thought I had come to fight men, not a string bean and a big bloated potato with the courage of a mouse.”

The fat man gave a broad, unctuous smile but revealed a savage expression. “I will kill her, friend. You walk away now or, so help me, I’ll do it.”

“Of course you will, you fat cowardly potato. Anybody ever tell you, you’ve a head like a bag of spuds?”

“Who the balls are you?” Donny barked out in a thick, raspy voice. He turned to Alfie. “Who is he, Alfie?”

“I told you, you thick blockhead. I’m Patrick, and I think you boys and me is gonna have a donnybrook. You need to let the girls go now, so the men can go to work.”

The fat one barked a laugh. “You’re a pig, Patrick, and I’m going to cut you up into little pieces and make a good and crispy pork pie out of you.”

Patrick grinned darkly, with a little shake of his head. “Why are all the fat and ugly lads always such braggarts? The last thing you need, piggy boy, is a pork pie. Hey, tell me true, boys: do the two of you bootlicks fancy each other? I’ve heard Big Jim’s bully boys are all sweeties. Is it true, bootlicks?”

The two men looked at each other, rage building in them.

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