by Wolf, Bree
The coming days passed in a cheerful manner and reminded Christina of her own childhood. The house was full of laughter and joy as Samantha darted from room to room always finding a playmate in Harriet and Juliet, even in Grandma Edie, who was never too tired to play tea party or read her a story. Samantha flourished under all the attention. She was truly a little girl made for a big family. Christina could only imagine her joy once the rest of her family arrived.
According to Grandma Edie, her parents wanted to travel to Whickerton Grove before paying them a visit. Of course, her father needed to see to their estate, and in truth, Christina was glad to not have them all arrive at once. Having Grandma Edie and her two sisters here was a good way of easing into things.
The only dark cloud upon the horizon was her husband.
Their conversation in the drawing room was constantly on Christina’s mind. Whenever she saw him, even from a distance, her heart seemed to still in her chest, and even he appeared far from steady whenever his eyes fell on her. Yet Christina was hesitant to continue their conversation, for although Thorne had spoken with a passion about wanting her, she was afraid to allow herself to believe that he had desired her for more than her father’s connections.
Indeed, he seemed eager for news from London, always disappointed when the day came and went without a message. He had spoken to her of his conversations with a number of lords her father had introduced him to. He had told her about his hopes for support.
Only when the day finally came that delivered a message to Pinewood Manor, it was not to her husband’s liking.
Christina was not present when he opened the mail; however, she later noticed his absence for the remainder of the day. Usually, he was never far away, always nearby, playing with Samantha or speaking to her grandmother and sisters, his eyes often seeking hers as though waiting for some sign from her to approach.
That day, however, he seemed to have all but vanished. He only reappeared at supper time. Although he tried to be cheerful and attentive, Christina saw that he was in a sullen mood. Never before had she seen him so disheartened. She longed to know what had happened, yet she was not certain about approaching him.
Too many things still remained unsaid.
And unclear.
Grandma Edie, however, disagreed. “You ought to speak to him, Child,” she said to Christina after Samantha had bid them a good night and headed upstairs with Mrs. Huxley. “He needs you.”
Casting a careful look at her two sisters on the other side of the drawing room, Christina lowered her head to her grandmother’s and whispered, “Do you know what news he has received?”
Grandma Edie shook her head. “I have an inkling; however, it is rather obvious that the man could use a shoulder to lean on.” Her brows rose challengingly. “And you are his wife, are you not?”
Christina did not quite know what to say. Yes, strictly speaking, she was his wife. Yet their relationship was vastly different from the one her parents shared, the one she had observed all her life. “Ours is nothing more than a marriage of convenience. He wouldn’t—”
Grandma Edie chuckled, trying hard not to allow the sound to grow too loud lest it drew her sisters’ attention. “Have you failed to notice, my dear, that the man adores you? For the past few days, he’s been skulking near you whenever he could, wondering how best to approach you. He’s only been waiting for a sign from you to continue what you’ve obviously begun that day we arrived.” She sighed regretfully. “I’m deeply sorry for interrupting you, Dear. Had I known, I would’ve been more patient.”
Christina stared at her grandmother, feeling the heart in her chest skip and leap in an odd way. “He said that…I thought…I’m not certain if I…”
Grandma Edie placed a reassuring hand upon her arm. “Don’t think too much, Dear. I know you’re confused, but so is he. And he needs you right now.”
Christina closed her eyes and scoffed. “I do not believe that to be true. He is so…self-sufficient. All that he does, all that he has accomplished already. He cares about so many people, and he has been doing his utmost to—” Again, she shook her head. “No, he does not need me. He does fine on his own.”
Grandma Edie’s hand tightened upon her arm. “Shall I tell you a secret?” she whispered, a wicked twinkle in her eyes. “Husbands are only ever as strong as their wives believe them to be.” She chuckled. “But do not tell him that. Men are a shockingly fragile sort, always concerned with being strong, completely unaware that being weak has its advantages at times.”
Christina could not help but smile. “Is that true?”
Grandma Edie shrugged. “In my opinion, it is. However, feel free to make up your own mind, Dear. Go to him. Today is one of the darkest days of his life. He fears that all he has been fighting for is lost.”
Oddly enough, Christina had never thought of her husband as someone who feared anything. Nevertheless, it had to be true. Everyone feared something, was that not so? “Very well,” she said to her grandmother and gave her a grateful hug. “I will tell you everything later.”
Grandma Edie chuckled. “Oh, there will be no need. One look at you will tell me all I need to know.”
Christina shook her head at her grandmother. “How do you do it? You always seem to know everything.”
Her grandmother shrugged, grinning slightly. “That is an old woman’s secret, one I shall not reveal to you this day. Now, go.”
Slipping from the room, Christina crossed the entrance hall and headed toward her husband’s study. Though, when she knocked and then opened the door, she found it to be empty. Where was he?
Hurrying from room to room, Christina found one after another deserted. Anxiety settled in her heart and grew with every step she took. Had he left? Had he perhaps gone back to London in order to…do something?
Eventually, she headed upstairs, peeked into Samantha’s chamber and smiled when she saw the little girl sleeping peacefully. Closing the door softly behind her, she retreated to her own chamber, suddenly weary, and yet tense…and worried.
Opening the door to her own chamber, Christina drew up short when her eyes fell upon her husband standing with his back to her by the window. He did not move as she entered, nor did he turn and look at her. He simply stood there with his hands linked behind his back, his gaze directed out the window at the slowly darkening world.
“I’ve been looking for you,” Christina said into the stillness of the room as she closed the door behind her. “Have you been here all this time?”
His shoulders moved as he heaved a deep sigh. “Is there something you need?” Fatigue rang in his voice; yet it was the ring of defeat that worried Christina most.
“I do not. I was concerned for you.” Slowly, she moved toward him, wondering why he refused to look at her. “What happened?”
Thorne hung his head, and Christina felt reminded of how she herself had rested her forehead against the cool windowpane in the drawing room only a few days ago. Now, it seemed their roles were reversed.
Inhaling a deep breath, Christina took that last step, lifted her right hand and slowly—somewhat hesitantly—placed it upon his back between his shoulder blades. “Tell me what happened.”
She could feel him draw in a deep breath before he finally turned around and looked at her. His eyes were dark pools, shadowed and guarded. “Why do you ask?”
Christina licked her lips, trying to make sense of the hint of anger she heard in his voice. Was it directed at her? “Because I wish to know. Because…you are my husband, and I am—”
Before Christina knew what was happening, she found herself in his arms. He all but crushed her to him, his mouth claiming hers and cutting off the startled gasp that escaped her.
Like a leaf tossed about by a strong wind, Christina was swept away by the strength of his need for her. Though passion undoubtedly simmered in his veins, Christina knew that it was something entirely different that had propelled him toward her. His heart ached—she was certain of it—an
d the way he clung to her, held on to her whispered of someone in need of comfort.
He kissed her fiercely, stealing her breath and rendering her legs all but useless. And Christina allowed him because she simply could not refuse him.
Nor did she wish to.
Only when his kisses softened did she draw back and look up at him. “What happened?” she asked yet again. “What news did you receive?”
Swallowing, Thorne bent his head and rested it against her own. “It is nothing,” he whispered, his words echoing her own, which she had spoken the other day in the drawing room.
“It is not nothing,” she insisted, placing a hand upon his cheek and urging him to look at her. “I can see your pain. Let me share it.”
Her husband lifted his head and looked at her, his gaze slightly narrowed. “Why do you wish to do so? I thought you regretted marrying me.” Bitterness swung in his voice, and Christina finally realized how deeply she had hurt him with her words.
Christina averted her gaze. “For Sarah’s sake, yes.” She looked up at him. “Never for my own.”
His hands upon her tightened as his gaze grew in intensity, and his eyes held hers as though testing her words, afraid to believe them.
“Tell me what happened,” Christina whispered yet again as her hands rose to cup his face. “Please.”
Thorne sighed and then nodded. “I’ve received word from Lord Huntington.” He swallowed, his jaw tense as though forcing out the words pained him physically. “He has discussed my proposal with his peers, and they have decided to think on the matter more thoroughly before committing themselves.” A muscle in his jaw twitched. “With the Season at its end, he proposes to meet up again next year and discuss this matter further.” He scoffed. “This matter!” He shook his head, his jaw gritted tightly.
Christina frowned up at him, uncertain what it was she was not understanding for clearly he looked displeased—to put it mildly. “Is that not good news?”
His eyes met hers, something sharp and steel-like in them. “It is a polite way of refusing me!”
Christina had to admit that lords and ladies often tended to speak without deeper thought, seeking to put those in their presence at ease and not considering what their words meant to others. Was it possible that Lord Huntington truly had no intention of supporting Thorne’s proposal? Christina knew that it was not far-fetched. Still, she could not allow her husband to sink deeper into this sense of defeat. “Perhaps he means what he says.”
“He does not,” he growled, and she could feel the tension that held him in the arms that held her.
Christina lifted her chin, then grasped his and gave it a quick shake. “Then you’ll convince him. Do you hear me? You’ll convince them all.”
For a seemingly endless moment, her husband looked down at her, something contemplative in his gaze. “What if I do not?” he finally said and bowed his head. “What then?” He swallowed hard and met her gaze once more, deepest sorrow visible in his green depths. “You have not seen what I have seen. I look at Sam, and I see other children like her, working day after day, their faces stained with dirt, their little backs broken.” Tears shimmered in his eyes. “It is not right. Life should not be like this. Not for them, especially not for them.”
Christina’s vision began to blur as his words slowly drifted into her heart and made it ache. She could all but picture children like Samantha, their eyes no longer glowing, smiles long gone from their faces. Her husband was right. It was not the way it was supposed to be.
Seeing the defeated look in his eyes, Christina found herself reaching for him. As though she had done so a thousand times, her arms came around his shoulders and pulled him to her. She held him tightly, running her hands over his back and leaning her head against his.
He responded instantly, his heart beating fast against her own and his breath rushing over her neck. His arms pulled her closer, and for a long, long time, they simply stood there in each other’s arms, seeking to give comfort as they contemplated what would happen should people like her father and brothers-in-law truly refuse to lend their support to this cause.
The thought was devastating, even to Christina, and she had not been the one who had spent her entire life fighting for it. She had only recently learned of something she should have seen long ago. Yet here she was, feeling a deep sense of responsibility grow in her chest. She needed to do something. More than that, she wanted to do something.
“I will help you,” she whispered without another thought, knowing that it was the right thing to do. Perhaps together, they could mobilize the support that was needed.
Thorne pulled back and looked at her, a slight frown creasing his forehand. “Why? Because you’re my wife?” A hint of disapproval swung his voice, and Christina knew that he worried she was doing this out of duty alone.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
She held his gaze, and her fingers curled into his shirt, holding him to her. “Yes,” she stated in a voice that allowed for no doubt or uncertainty, “because I’m your wife, and I believe in you.”
Her husband drew in a shuddering breath, and Christina could see that no one had ever told him so. No one had ever believed in him. He had always fought alone with no one to turn to and no one to lean on.
Grandma Edie’s words echoed in her mind. Husbands are only ever as strong as their wives believe them to be.
Christina knew that her grandmother’s words did not only pertain to husbands or men in general. It was true for everyone, was it not? Who would she, Christina, be today if not for the loving and unwavering support of her family? How would she have fared on her own?
The truth was, despite everything he had been denied, her husband had grown into a man anyone would be proud to know, to call husband or father or brother or son.
Holding his gaze, Christina gave his shirt a sharp tug, needing him to hear every word she was about to say, to hear it and believe it. “Yes, I believe in you.” Her heart swelled with each word to leave her lips, and she could not deny the small shock she herself felt at knowing them to be true, hearing this utter conviction in her voice. Before this very moment, she had not known this was how she felt. “You truly are a good man, and I believe that you will see happen what you have set your mind to. I know you. You will not stop. You will not give up. You will convince them. You will see the change you long to see. I know it.” A smile came to her face. “I believe in you. I do.” A slight tremble shook her, and she inhaled a deep breath. “And…And I care for you. I tried not to, but it is the truth. I care for you very, very much.”
Although disappointment still lingered, that sense of defeat was no longer the dominant emotion upon his face. The corners of his mouth twitched as Thorne looked at her, his eyes seeking hers, searching hers. “You care for me?” he whispered, and the corners of his mouth curled up into a smile, teasing as always, as she had known he would.
For a brief moment, Christina felt the urge to hide, to deny what she had said. But she refused. “I do.” She nodded. “I do.”
His hands reached up to touch her face. “I care for you as well,” he whispered, tracing the tips of his fingers along the line of her jaw and then down the column of her neck before pulling her closer, her lips now no more than a hair’s breadth from his own. “I have from the first moment I saw you.”
Christina felt a most pleasant shiver dance down her spine. “I may have as well,” she whispered, feeling his breath against her lips. “I was not supposed to. You were not to be mine, and yet lately I cannot help but wonder if I did what I did because…” She looked up at him, overwhelmed by everything that had happened these past few weeks, overwhelmed by the way he was holding her as though he never wished to let her go.
Thorne’s breathing quickened, and a deep look of impatience came to his eyes. “Because?”
Christina licked her lips and decided then and there that she would not hide anymore. Never again. “Because I wanted you for myself.”
/> A disbelieving smile slowly claimed his features. “You had no idea, though, did you?”
Staring up at him, Christina slowly shook her head. “I did not. Now, it seems so obvious.” She blinked. “How could I have missed this?”
Chuckling, Thorne dipped his head and brushed his mouth against hers. “Perhaps if you had,” he whispered, placing a kiss upon her lips, “you would have forced yourself to retreat out of respect for your friend. If you had, we might not be here.”
The thought of Sarah still sent a stab of guilt through her heart; only Christina determinedly pushed it aside for in this moment, more than ever before, she wanted to feel something else. “Yet we are here,” she whispered, gazing up at her husband as her hands slid up to link behind the back of his neck. “Now. Together.”
His gaze darkened, and she could feel a change in his mood in the way his hands tightened upon her back. He bent his head then and kissed her, slowly, but thoroughly, and when his eyes found hers once more, she could see a question lingering in them.
Sinking her teeth into her lower lip, Christina held his gaze for another heartbeat. She felt nervous, a strange flutter in her lower belly; still, she had never felt so daring at the same time. “About those unspeakable things,” she whispered with a teasing smile, uncertain how to continue. Her gaze, though, never wavered.
Thorne chuckled. “Do we have to call them that?”
“You have to admit, people do not speak of them,” Christina pointed out, very much aware of the way her husband was watching her.
“It’s much more fun to experience them,” he whispered, grinning, before capturing her lips as though to prove his point, “than to merely speak of them.”
Catching her breath, Christina returned his smile. “Is that a promise?”
A wicked grin came to his face that made her insides flip in a most tempting way. “It is.”
“I’ll hold you to it,” she whispered against his lips before words became unnecessary.
Breathing, too, became secondary as they clung to each other, his lips devouring hers as his nimble fingers began to undo the laces of her dress.