by Bree Wolf
Shaking his head, Wesley stared down at her. “And that’s why you slapped me? That’s hardly a reason!”
“It’s a bloody good reason!” Stomping her feet, she glared at him. “You halfwit! You inconsiderate−”
“I wrote what I could under the circumstances,” Wesley defended himself. “As I said time was of−”
“Of the essence,” Christine finished. “Yes, I know. Still, you couldn’t have taken two minutes? Two minutes?” Shaking her head, she looked at him with a hint of pity in her eyes as though he was someone of low intelligence who couldn’t possibly have reached such a conclusion.
Taking a slow breath, Wesley swallowed. “I admit I probably could have been a little more detailed,” he forced out, and a triumphant sparkle came to her dark eyes.
Her voice, however, sounded sincere as she spoke. “Thank you.” Brushing down her dress, she took a deep breath, and the tension left her shoulders. Looking up at him, she asked, “How’s your brother?”
Wesley sighed. “Not good.” Gesturing down the corridor, he fell into step beside her as they headed toward the large staircase. “He still does not remember anything,” he said, glancing at her. “I assume Catherine’s told you.”
Christine nodded. “She did. She’s devastated.” As they descended the stairs to the ground floor, she looked at him. “How can he forget years of his life? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“Neither have I,” Wesley admitted, waiting for her to enter the front parlour before stepping in himself. “Dr. Martin says that he has heard of such cases. However, they are extremely rare.”
Seating herself on the settee, Christine shook her head. “There’s no treatment, is there?”
“No.” Taking the armchair across from her, he met her eyes. “I don’t know what to do. I see the pain they’re in, and yet,…” He shrugged.
“I know.” With her lips pressed together in determination, she nodded. “We’ll think of something.” Again, she nodded as though to convince herself. “We will.”
A soft smile came to his lips at the gentle devotion that shone in her eyes. She was a fierce woman, one not to be trifled with, and yet, she was loyal to a fault.
“Tell me about him.” Holding his gaze, Christine nodded in encouragement. “When he woke up, was he aware how much time had passed?”
“No, to him, it was still May 1813,” Wesley explained, remembering his brother’s pale face. “And when I told him, the truth hit him like a ton of bricks.”
“And he doesn’t even remember meeting her?”
“No, for him, it’s as though he has never laid eyes on her in his life.”
Closing her eyes for a moment, Christine sighed. “We need to do something.”
“Do you have a suggestion?” Wesley asked, a hint of incredulity in his voice.
Christine’s eyes narrowed. “Not yet,” she snarled, regarding him with open perusal. “Answer me this, dear Brother-in-law.”
“I’m not your brother-in-law.”
Ignoring him, she continued. “Will you just stand by and watch them lose the life they’ve loved? Or are you willing to do whatever it takes to ensure that their story will have a happily-ever-after?” A challenge in her eyes, she watched him, and Wesley couldn’t help but feel uneasy about her question. Deep down, he knew that whatever her mind would concoct would be something rather unwise, and yet, he could not ignore her plea for help.
Holding her gaze, he nodded his head. “Whatever you need.”
A soft smile came to her lips, and she leaned back, relaxing against the cushions. “Even if he does not remember her,” she said, determination in her voice, “he fell in love with her once, he will again. They may not get back the past they shared, but at least they’ll have a future.”
Remembering the pained expression on his brother’s face, Wesley frowned.
“What is it?”
“You weren’t there,” Wesley began. “When Catherine came to him after he woke up, he looked at her as though expecting his memories to return instantly. Even more than that. I think a part of him hoped that he would see her and know her to be the woman he’d loved.” Wesley shook his head. “And when that didn’t happen, he could barely look at her. Although he does not remember her, it pains him to see her in such misery. Under such dire circumstances, how are they ever to fall in love again?”
For a long moment, Christine held his gaze before her eyes became distant, and he could almost see her mind at work.
After the accident, Wesley had sent word to her because he’d thought Catherine could use the comfort of her sister’s presence. However, sitting across from Christine now, a surge of hopeful expectation went through him, and he realised that somewhere deep down he had hoped that her mind would succeed where his had failed him.
Even if her plans could usually be categorised as insane, at least, any plan−as insane as it might be−would be better than none.
After a small eternity, her eyes returned to look into his and a mischievous smile curled up her lips. “I have an idea,” she whispered, and Wesley took a deep breath, bracing himself for what was to come.
Chapter Two − A Ludicrous Plan
Leaving her sister’s bedchamber, Christine turned to look at Wesley. Admittedly, he looked somewhat pale after their talk with Catherine. “Are you all right, Wes?” she asked, hoping that he hadn’t changed his mind. After gaining her sister’s approval, Christine had thought nothing stood in their way.
He shrugged. “There still are a few aspects of your plan that have me concerned,” he admitted, his eyes barely meeting hers.
Christine tensed. “Because it’s my plan?”
“That doesn’t matter,” he said flatly, walking past her.
Riled at his dismissive attitude, Christine strode after him. “If you do not believe it will work,” she snapped, stepping in front of him so that he had to stop in order to avoid running into her, “then why did you agree to it in the first place.”
“Because it’s the only plan we have,” he snapped. His eyes, however, held an amused twinkle as his gaze slid over her.
Gritting her teeth at the slight shiver that ceased her, Christine once more poked her finger in his chest. “Don’t humour me, Wesley Everett. If you believe my plan to fail, then tell me so here and now!”
“I have doubts,” he admitted as his piercing blue eyes held hers. “After all, this is a serious matter. Whether we succeed or not, we will be deceiving my brother.”
“For his own good,” Christine countered.
His eyes narrowed, and he lowered his head to hers. “He might fail to see it that way.” His eyes held hers, and he took a deep breath. “No one likes to be deceived.”
Holding his gaze, Christine swallowed as his warm breath caressed her skin. “Do not tell me you believe that your brother would not readily agree to anything that would ensure a future with the woman he loves!”
Considering her words, Wesley stilled. “Assuming he is still the same man he was before.”
Christine frowned. “Of course, he is.”
“People change,” Wesley counselled. “Sometimes it takes a long time, and sometimes it happens in the blink of an eye.”
Confused, Christine held his gaze, feeling as though he was no longer speaking about his brother. Something had changed between them. Christine was certain of it. Before, he had not looked at her the way he did now, had he? If he had, she had not noticed.
But she did now.
“At our core, we are who we are,” Christine said, ignoring the fluttering sensation in her belly. “William loves her, whether he knows it or not. And once he does fall for her again, he will not mind the means by which it was achieved. If it makes you feel any better, I will take complete responsibility for what is to happen.”
A soft smile curled up the corners of his mouth. “Is there anything you wouldn’t do for your sister?”
“I love her,” Christine whispered, feeling the sudden need to take
a step back. “She is my other half. I cannot be happy if she is not as well.”
He chuckled. “Are you saying you’re doing this out of pure self-interest?”
Enjoying the banter in his tone, Christine smiled. “Don’t we all.” Raising her eyebrows in challenge, she said, “Selfless deeds do not exist. We all do what we do to ensure our own happiness. Fortunately for those we love, it is always dependent on theirs.”
“This is an adventure to you, is it not?” Wesley asked, eyeing her curiously. “You did not solely suggest that your sister take on your identity to allow her to converse with her husband without the pressure of expectation, did you?”
Grinning, Christine said, “Of course, it was my prime reason. However, a girl can enjoy herself, can she not?” He took a slow breath as his gaze lingered on hers, and Christine felt the need to speak lest he… “Although I must admit that the thought of giving up my wardrobe pains me greatly.”
A low chuckle escaped his throat. “I dare say it is not the wardrobe that will give you away.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Do you not believe I can act the proper lady?”
“Act? Maybe.” The corners of his mouth drew up in amusement. “Be? Never.”
Shocked by his boldness, Christine felt her hand itch with the need to slap that smug smile off his face. “Wesley, Everett, how dare you−?”
“Calm yourself,” taking a step back, he glanced at her hand, “and know that what I said was meant as a compliment.”
“A compliment?”
“It most certainly was. After all, who would want to be proper when the opposite promises to be a lot more entertaining.” Winking at her, he turned on his heel and walked away.
Left behind, staring at his receding back, Christine was at a loss for words−a rather rare occurrence, she had to admit. Had he just suggested something indecent? Although his words had been far from explicit, the look in his eyes had spoken of hidden desires; desires that echoed within herself. He had always been handsome, however, now, he possessed the annoying ability to throw her off balance with his mere presence.
Considering her own outlook on life, Christine realised that he might be just the right man for her. After all, he seemed just as disinterested in marriage as she was herself.
A slow smile came to her lips as she contemplated the idea of making him a rather indecent proposal, one that would surely wipe that smug smile off his face.
The right time would come, she counselled herself, and then it would be her turn to throw him off balance−literally speaking, of course.
***
The next few days Wesley spent by his brother’s bedside.
Doomed to rest, William’s mood grew foul. He had little patience and more than once threatened to simply stride from his bed and do as he pleased. Only Wesley’s careful reminder of the life he did not remember could keep William where he was.
Again and again, his brother asked about his wife, about the way they’d met and the life they’d led. And although Wesley did his best to answer his brother’s questions, he did not wish to say too much, knowing that it was imperative William speak to Christine…or rather Catherine pretending to be Christine.
Had he actually agreed to this insane plan?
Whenever he would come upon Christine, his heart would pick up its pace as though he had been drugged, and he had trouble forming a coherent thought. Had she always been this intoxicating? There was something about the fire that burned in her dark green eyes that set his whole world ablaze.
And she knew it, didn’t she?
Sometimes, he thought to see a knowing twinkle in her eyes, and he felt certain that without the constant reminder of why they both were currently at Harrington Park, he would have already whisked her away to Gretna Green.
When Dr. Martin finally gave his permission for William to leave his bed, there was no stopping him. Although apprehensive, he strode from his room that night, his eyes gliding over the home of his childhood, seeking to detect the small anomalies that time inevitably brought with it. However, before long, their conversation just as inevitably returned to the one topic that brought pain to his brother’s eyes: Catherine.
“I’m sorry to put this on you, big brother,” Wesley said, a touch of guilt seeping into his heart, “but you need to know how difficult this is for her.”
Misery clearly edged into his features, William turned away. “I know.”
“Do you?” Wesley pressed, following the plan Christine had concocted in that beautiful, and yet, foolish head of hers.
“What do you want me to say?” William snapped as he spun around. “I feel as though you’re accusing me of forgetting her on purpose.”
At his brother’s outburst, Wesley instantly regretted his words. What was Christine doing to him? Had he completely abandoned sanity? “I’m sorry. That is not what I meant to say. I simply thought to explain that she is beside herself with sadness and that it might take some time for her to face you, to speak to you.” At least, that much was true.
“I understand.”
If only he did, Wesley thought, but instead said, “We should go. Supper will be served shortly.”
Upon entering the dining room, Wesley felt his brother stiffen. Toward the other end of the long table stood their mother as well as the two sisters, who turned toward them upon their approach.
Seeing Christine dressed in a proper, mildly coloured dress, her eyes lowered and her hands wringing a handkerchief as though distraught, Wesley could barely contain his amusement. And yet, he had to give her credit for she did look truly saddened. He could only hope that William would not see through their charade.
Introductions were made quickly, and before long, they were all seated around the large table, an uncomfortable silence hanging over their heads.
Occasionally, Wesley conversed with Catherine, seeing the strain their charade caused her clearly on her face. After all, was she not also a victim of Christine’s ludicrous mind?
Glancing down the table, Wesley saw an equally tormented expression on his brother’s face. Christine, however, seemed to be enjoying herself. While her whole demeanour could be considered appropriate for a woman in her position−or rather her sister’s−there was something in her eyes that spoke of enjoyment rather than dread. Whenever he would catch her gaze, Wesley could see a hidden excitement gleam from underneath her proper exterior, and his own pulse quickened at the mere thought of it.
Only his brother’s desolate state could keep him from enjoying that evening as much as she did.
Chapter Three − Whose Brother-in-law?
“Look!” Christine called over from the window front. “He’s going after her!”
Excitement bubbled over, and she bounced up and down on her feet, her eyes glued to something in the gardens.
Coming to stand beside her, Wesley saw his brother follow Catherine down the snow-covered path into the back garden that was laced with tall-standing hedges.
“Oh, this is going exactly as planned!” Clasping her hands together, Christine gnawed on her lower lip, her eyes sparkling like the snow crystals outside. “And you thought it was a foolish plan,” she accused him, slapping him on the arm in unabashed triumph.
Wesley gritted his teeth. Something about the way she spoke always riled him into contradicting her. For some reason, he could not allow her to be right. “Your enthusiasm is a little premature, don’t you think?”
Forcing her eyes from the scene outside, Christine fixed him with an icy glare that sent Wesley’s heart into an uproar. Why was he enjoying this so?
“Your negativity serves no purpose,” she hissed, once more poking an accusing finger into his chest. “If you intend to contribute nothing but poignant comments, you might as well take your leave.” She turned back to the window. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of them.”
Wesley scoffed, surprised how much the thought of leaving her side affected his mood. “I would be a fool to leave this ludicrous endeavour in your han
ds without at least making certain that all is done to ensure its success−as unlikely as it may be.”
“Unlikely?” Christine echoed, her voice indicating that she had clearly taken affront. Inhaling deeply, she turned to him once more, and her dark eyes roamed his face as though trying to understand him. Did she know how much he enjoyed their banter?
Holding her inquisitive gaze, Wesley inhaled her intoxicating scent and his hands itched to reach for her. Only the code of proper conduct that had been drilled into him since birth prevented him from throwing caution to the wind.
“You are a wolf in sheep’s clothing, are you not?” she whispered, her eyes serious as a knowing curl came to her soft lips. “You seem proper and well-behaved, always courteous and considerate,” she observed, her eyes sliding over him in open perusal, “but that is not who you are underneath, is it?”
Stunned into silence, Wesley stared at her. Never had a lady spoken to him like this nor glimpsed his true nature as easily as Christine.
“You have a wicked sense of humour,” she continued as though reading an indictment. “Although you are loyal and respectful of those you care about, you often find yourself wishing you weren’t forced to abide by society’s rules and could simply do as you please. Is that not so?”
Wesley drew in a slow breath. Then he took a step forward, and her eyes widened ever so slightly as she raised her chin to hold his gaze. Looking down at her, Wesley gritted his teeth as his gaze travelled down to where her teeth worried her lower lip. “You surprise me, my lady. I thought a proper young woman such as yourself would find the company of a man such as you just described more than a bit alarming. However, you do not seem worried in the least.”
A slow smile curled up her lips. “I never said I was a proper lady. I do try to act the part−I suppose for the same reason you do−however, underneath I believe I’m a lot like you.”