by Wolf, Bree
Thorne could not help but think that she knew precisely why he was here. She knew, but she wanted him to say it. And so, he did. “I’m here to uphold a promise,” he whispered as he slowly lowered his head to hers.
Her breathing quickened as she looked up at him, her lips slightly parted. “Are you a man of your word then?”
“Always,” he whispered as he leaned closer still, his hands rising to settle upon her waist. He felt a shiver go through her as his hands continued to slide onto her back, pulling her into his embrace.
Time seemed to stand still as they stood there, their eyes locked, the distance between them shrinking incrementally as they all but drifted toward one another like two magnets unable to maintain the space between them.
“You were gone a long time,” Christina whispered against his lips, her breath coming fast as her hands settled upon his arms.
“Too long,” Thorne murmured, enjoying the tantalizing closeness between them. It was torture, and yet it was bliss at the same time. “Did you miss me?”
Her lips twitched, and he could see something utterly tempting spark in her blue eyes. They seemed to darken in a most alluring way, and he wondered if she was even aware of it. “Perhaps,” she replied on a whisper, tilting her head upward another fraction.
Thorne grinned before his gaze darted to her lips. “Do you want me to kiss you?”
“A gentleman would not ask such a thing,” she chided teasingly, raking her teeth across her lower lip in a deeply seductive, yet strangely innocent gesture.
Thorne chuckled deep in his throat. “I’m beginning to think that despite your words it is not a gentleman you want.” He paused, then quickly dipped his head and brushed his lips against hers in a feather-light touch. “Is that not so? Admit it. You’re beginning to like that I’m not a gentleman.” He swallowed. “You’re beginning to like—”
The breath lodged in his throat as he looked at her. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest and found himself surprisingly unable to finish what he had begun to say.
Her chest rose and fell with a deep breath. “You?” Christina half-asked and half-stated. Her fingers tightened upon his arms as though she wished to pull him closer.
Thorne was only too happy to comply. “Do you?” he whispered, brushing his lips against hers yet again.
“Never,” she replied with a smile before she pushed herself up onto her toes and kissed him.
Thorne felt a low groan deep in his throat. “Never?” he asked and then kissed her again.
Her hands snaked upward, and he felt the tips of her fingers brush against his neck, then curl into his collar, tightening her hold on him. “Perhaps.”
“Perhaps?” he teased, smiling against her lips.
“Perhaps a little.”
Thorne slanted his mouth across hers and kissed her deeply. Then he lifted his head and looked at her. “A little?”
Her breathing came fast as she tried to pull him back down to her. “Or a little more.” Her teeth once more dug into her lower lip. “Stop teasing me,” she all but commanded, then kissed him as he had hoped she would.
Sinking into their kiss, Thorne reveled in the feel of her. Her skin was warm and soft even through the layers of fabric protecting her from his inquisitive hands. Still, the knot in the front of her robe quickly loosened, and his hands slid inside.
Christina gasped, and he felt another shiver run down her back. Yet she did not pull away nor demand he stop and act the gentleman he was not.
Nor had he any wish to be.
With each touch and each kiss, Christina grew bolder, her passion matching his in a way Thorne had not dared hope for. He was close to picking her up and moving this onto the bed when Samantha’s voice echoed along the corridor. “Are you coming?”
Instantly, the two of them surged apart, both breathing heavily as they stared at one another in shock. A becoming flush darkened Christina’s cheeks before she quickly averted her gaze, a rather endearing, yet also somewhat embarrassed smile drawing up the corners of her mouth.
Briefly, Thorne closed his eyes and chuckled. “I love her dearly, but that girl has awful timing.”
Reaching to refasten her robe, Christina grinned, her cheeks a blazing red now.
A moment later, the door flew open, and Samantha bounced in, dressed in a pale blue dress and her wild hair braided down her back. She looked from him to Christina and then frowned. “You’re still not dressed.” Confusion came to her eyes. “What have you been doing?”
Thorne had to clench his jaw to keep from laughing out loud for Christina’s face seemed to darken with each inquisitive look Samantha cast in her direction.
“Are you well?” Samantha asked, squinting her eyes as she looked at Christina. “You look flushed.”
Closing her eyes, Christina inhaled a deep breath, careful not to meet his eyes. Then she knelt down to speak to Samantha. “I’m quite well, dearest. How about you go on downstairs, and I promise I’ll be quick. All right?”
Still frowning, Samantha nodded. “Very well.”
“And take your father with you,” Christina added belatedly before Samantha could once more skip out the door. “I have no need for him up here.”
Thorne turned to look at his wife and saw her brows arch up in a teasing gesture. The red upon her cheeks was fading, and she once more stood tall and proud, meeting his eyes without the slightest hint of mortification. “Is that so?” he asked with a grin.
Christina nodded, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Then she stepped back to let him pass, careful not to allow him to come too close. “Indeed, your presence proves to be awfully distracting. If you stay, I believe I shall never make my way downstairs, and I admit I’m quite…famished.”
“Come, Papa,” Samantha exclaimed, taking him by the hand and pulling him away from Christina and toward the door. “I’m famished, too. She’ll dress quicker without you here.”
Reluctantly, Thorne followed his daughter. “And here I thought ladies could not make do without someone to help with their laces.”
The look upon Christina’s face told him loud and clear that she was not so innocent that she did not understand his meaning. The flush upon her cheeks returned, and she quickly averted her eyes. “I shall call for my lady’s maid,” she assured him once her gaze was steady again. “Do not trouble yourself, Sir.”
Thorne cast her one last, longing look before closing the door behind him and his daughter. Nevertheless, the image of Christina, her blue eyes dark with passion and the belt of her robe undone, remained in his mind.
Indeed, they both knew what would have happened—could possibly have happened—if it had not been for Samantha’s interference.
“I’m so glad you’re back.” Craning her little neck, Samantha beamed up at him.
Thorne returned her smile. “As am I.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Hidden Stories
With a picnic basket slung over her arm, Christina made her way down the small slope into the meadow. The sun shone brightly, and she had to squint her eyes to spot father and daughter on the edge of the forest. The soft breeze carried their voices to her ears, but they were no more than a distant echo. She could not make out the words being spoken; all she knew was that they spoke with joy and laughter.
Wading through the tall grass, Christina marveled at how drastically her life had changed in only a few short weeks. Not long ago, she had not even known Thorne and Samantha existed. Then she had only known his name and the sight of him from across the ballroom. And now?
Now, he was her husband.
A smile came to Christina’s face, and yet it was as always accompanied by a sense of guilt and shame. Yes, Thorne was now her husband, but perhaps he should not have been. Perhaps he should have been Sarah’s husband. How easily could Christina picture her dearest friend here in the meadow, carrying a picnic basket for her new family. Such a life would have made Sarah happy, would it not? She would have been safe here, loved
and cherished, away from her self-centered parents.
She would have been happy here.
“Look how high I am!” Samantha called from up in a tree. One hand was wrapped tightly around a thick branch while the other waved frantically, a wide rather triumphant-looking smile upon her little face.
Christina waved back. “Careful now, so you don’t fall.” She walked a few steps closer, then stopped and watched as Thorne directed Samantha’s movements. He spoke calmly and with a voice that rang with conviction as though he knew with absolute certainty that nothing bad would happen, that Samantha would find her way back down to the ground safe and sound.
Of course, he could not know; nonetheless, it was that reassurance in his voice that seemed to make the world a safer place.
At least for Samantha.
Distractedly, Christina found herself staring at him. Although she had refused to acknowledge his appealing smile and wickedly tempting eyes before, now she could not. Now, she saw him for all that he was. He was not a gentleman, but a man who was kind and caring. A man who showed respect to those who deserved it. A man who was strong and who fought not only for himself, but for others as well. He was not one to close his eyes and ignore the pleas for help echoing around him.
Yes, he was not a gentleman, but he was an incredibly good man.
These last few days since his return from London, Christina had been all too aware of him. Whenever he stepped into a room, all her attention moved to him. It was as though the rest of the world was dipped in shadows while he stood in the light.
“Now jump!” Thorne instructed as he held Samantha’s little hands within his own. She crouched on the low hanging branch, and with her eyes fixed upon his, she pushed herself off and jumped to the ground, his hands never releasing hers.
“Did you see that? Christina, did you see me jump?” Samantha exclaimed as she came racing over, her face full of joy and pride.
Shaken out of her thoughts, Christina cleared her throat before returning the little girl’s smile. “Yes, I did. It looked quite frightening. Are you all right?” She set down the picnic basket and reached for the blanket within.
“Shall we set up over there?” Thorne asked as he came striding over. “Under the tree in the shade?”
His eyes looked into hers, and Christina felt her heart skip a beat. She quickly dropped her gaze and busied herself with the basket. “Very well.” She lengthened her strides in order to put some distance between them; yet out of the corner of her eye she caught the hint of confusion that came to his face.
Of course, he was noticing her odd behavior. She was acting like a fool, like a coward. She had chosen this life, and now, she had regrets. She did not regret her choice, but that her choice had come at a price of someone she cared for deeply.
Oh, if only she could be happy here! If only she could give herself to this life! What would it feel like to truly live here in Pinewood Manor? To truly be Thorne’s wife?
Stepping closer, Thorne took the blanket from her hands. “Are you well?” he asked, once more trying to see into her eyes. “You seem…not like yourself.”
Christina quickly looked up at him and smiled. “I’m perfectly fine.” Then she turned away and knelt down beside the basket. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him spread out the blanket. She watched Samantha help to straighten the edges. Then she handed out the food to them both so they could place it in its center. She kept her hands busy and her eyes averted; however, before long all the work was done and her husband and Samantha settled onto the blanket, stretching out their legs.
“Will you not sit down with us?” Samantha asked as she reached for a pastry filled with marmalade. “Are you not hungry?”
Samantha smiled at her, then sat down next to the girl, careful to keep her distance from her husband. “I suppose not as hungry as you. However, I was not the one to climb to the top of the tree, now was I?”
Samantha once more beamed with joy before attacking the pastry in her hand like a hungry lion. “Will you tell us a story?” she asked with her mouth full. “What happened to the little girl after she ran away from home?”
Christina tensed, and her eyes involuntarily drifted to her husband. “Perhaps later.” She could not quite say why she hesitated; however, she had never spoken to anyone about her stories. Only her family knew, and now Samantha.
“I would like to hear a story as well,” Thorne said, his eyes lingering upon her face. She could see that he knew that she felt uncomfortable and that he was wondering why.
Still, Christina hesitated. Would he disapprove? Or would he not object as long as her aspirations never went beyond what was deemed appropriate for a woman? Or was this, perhaps, the solution she had been looking for?
Perhaps if he knew of her childhood dream of being a writer, if she could make him believe that she still intended to pursue it, he would prove himself unworthy of her. No doubt, he would tell her to forget about such aspirations and look toward home and family instead.
As Aunt Francine’s husband had.
Perhaps then she would no longer feel guilty for robbing her friend of a good husband. Perhaps then her heart would turn from him, and she would be free to feel as she saw fit.
Christina heaved a deep sigh. “Very well.” She tried to gather her thoughts, yet it had been a long time since she had spoken of her stories to anyone.
Samantha was different. She was a child, and her glowing eyes made her see everything in a different way. Adults were not like that. They were critical and judgmental, and their words had a way of slashing at one’s heart.
With her eyes upon the little girl in front of her, Christina began her story. “It was already dark when Anna fled the house. She knew not where to go, but simply allowed her feet to carry her onward. A chilling wind blew that night, tearing at her hair and skirts as she stumbled through the tall grass. Her eyes were full of tears, and she could barely see the next step in front of her. Even without tears running down her cheeks, she would have been hard-pressed to make out anything in her vicinity. Dark shadows loomed, and the dim light that touched the world that night would not grant her safe passage.”
Sitting completely still, Samantha stared at her, the bite of pastry in her mouth all but forgotten. “What…?” she tried to ask around the bite in her mouth, but then stopped, chewed a few times and swallowed. “What happened then? Did she get lost?”
Samantha smiled at the little girl. “She feared she would. She let her eyes drift over the land, but she could see nothing but shadows and darkness. She knew she could not go back home so she continued onward even though she did not know where to go.”
Samantha scooted closer, her eyes wide, and the pastry in her hand squished in a way that marmalade dripped down from her fingers and onto the blanket.
“She walked and walked,” Christina continued her story, careful to keep her eyes on the little girl. “Her legs began to grow heavy, yet she continued on. After a long while, she finally saw something in the distance.”
Samantha drew in a sharp breath and clapped her hands together in joy. “Fairies!” The pastry was now hopelessly destroyed and clung not only to Samantha’s hands but also to her dress and parts of the blanket.
Thorne chuckled, then rose to his feet. “You better wash before Mrs. Huxley sees you.” He reached for a jug of water and urged Samantha to step off the blanket and hold out her hands. Then he proceeded to wash them until the child was reasonably clean once more. “Are you still hungry?”
Looking at her empty hands, Samantha nodded.
“Then I suppose you should eat before Christina continues the story,” Thorne suggested with a smile, “for we do not have an endless supply of food, and if you continue to crush it in your hands in your excitement, we shall surely run out.”
Nodding, Samantha complied and once more sat down upon the blanket and reached for a pastry. Thorne, too, returned to sit with them; however, this time, he seated himself far closer to Christina. She co
uld feel his eyes drift over, lingering here and there, before she finally turned to face him. “Is something wrong?” she demanded, unable to keep her voice even.
Thorne frowned at her. “I was about to ask you the same thing,” he remarked with a sideways glance at Samantha, who seemed to be rather oblivious at the moment for she chewed and swallowed and then took another bite. “You seem upset with me.” He leaned closer. “What did I do?”
Christina’s mouth opened, but no words came out for in truth he had done nothing. That was the problem, was it not?
“I’m finished,” Samantha exclaimed before she rose and then seated herself in her father’s lap. “Will you continue the story now?”
Grateful for the little girl’s interference, Christina nodded. She kept her gaze upon Samantha’s wide green eyes and tried her best to ignore the man who kept watching her with hawk’s eyes.
The afternoon passed swiftly and pleasantly despite the tension that continued to linger in Christina’s body. She kept stealing glances at her husband but could not be certain what he was thinking. She did not see disapproval upon his face, but rather confusion and the desire to understand.
She knew well how that felt for she longed for the very same thing. Never before had her own actions and thoughts confused her like this. Never before had she felt so at odds with the world and herself.
When it was time to head back, Christina mumbled an excuse, begging them to see to returning the picnic basket to Cook on their own. Then, before either one of them could object or ask for details, she rushed off.
Exhaustion lingered in her limbs for it was rather tiring to uphold this pretense. Yes, she was pretending. She was pretending to be upset with her husband. She was pretending to enjoy herself. She was pretending to not enjoy herself. She was pretending to…
Christina no longer knew. She stumbled ahead almost blindly and felt reminded of the little girl in her story who walked without sight but simply knew that she needed to get away.