by Bree Wolf
“You seem troubled,” Christine remarked, her smoky green eyes searching his face as she stepped closer and laid a gentle hand on his arm.
Wesley swallowed. What had he gotten himself into?
Although different in disposition, the two Dansby sisters were of a respectable family. Never had Wesley heard anything untoward mentioned with regard to their conduct. Neither out loud, nor whispered behind their backs. And although Christine was far more forthright compared to her younger sister, she knew the rules of society and obeyed them, willingly or not. At least as far as he knew.
“Wes,” she whispered when he remained silent. “Is something wrong?”
Feeling the soft weight of her hand on his arm, Wesley took a slow breath, seeking to clear his thoughts. If only for his peace of mind, he needed to clear the air and address the unspoken issue between them. “I assure you I mean no disrespect,” he said, gathering his courage to ask a young lady such an intimate question, “however, I feel obliged to enquire…” He took a deep breath as his heart hammered in his chest. Never in his life would he have thought that a woman could make him feel this way.
Inexperienced. Foolish. Immature.
“Yes, Wesley,” she whispered, her breath a caress as it brushed over his lips, inevitably drawing his eyes down to hers.
Clearing his throat, he swallowed, forcing his gaze back up.
In answer, the corners of her mouth curled into a knowing smile before she once more bit her lower lip, a hint of shyness in her eyes. Could this woman be any more contradicting?
“Allow me to ask,” he began once more, “do you…? I mean…you do not object to being considered someone’s mistress as any proper woman ought to, which leads me to wonder whether you…eh…I mean, you’re not…You haven’t…?”
“I am no one’s mistress,” Christine stated in a calm voice, all hint of shyness vanished, “nor have I taken a lover. At least, not yet.” The last part she added as though it were merely an afterthought. Oh, no, it doesn’t rain. At least, not yet.
“Not yet?” Wesley croaked, his own voice barely more than a stunned whisper as he stared at her sparkling eyes.
Christine fixed him with a chiding look in her own. “Would you judge me for taking a liberty you demand for yourself simply because I’m a woman?”
Opening his mouth to answer−although he had no idea how to reply−Wesley couldn’t get a single word out before she interrupted him.
“You yourself are still unmarried,” Christine observed, her dark eyes looking into his, “and yet, I assume you are not unaware of the ways between a man and a woman.”
“I…” Wesley stammered as heat shot up his neck, and he thought his face had to be glowing like a beacon in the dark. Blinking, he stared at her, uncertain whether his ears had deceived him.
“Do not deny it for it’s written all over your face,” Christine continued, her own cheeks merely having a rosy touch to them. “Would you deny me that experience?”
“Not at all,” Wesley replied possibly a bit too hastily. Averting his gaze for but a moment, he cleared his throat. “As long as it is with your husband.”
Christine snorted. “As you’ve only lain with your wife?” Calmly raising an eyebrow, she held his gaze. However, the rapidly beating pulse plainly visible in her graceful neck bespoke of the emotions hiding under her composed exterior.
For the millionth time that night, Wesley cleared his throat. “That is none of your concern.”
“Then it is neither any of your concern who I invite into my bed.”
Shocked beyond comprehension, Wesley took a step back as his world slowly became unhinged, bit by bit, with every word she spoke. “I’d ask you not to leave this room,” he repeated, unable to process the myriad of information he had just received. “I bid you a good night.” Then he turned on his heel and strode from the room, hoping against hope that he was already asleep and all this was merely a bad dream.
Chapter Five − A Most Unwelcome Proposal or Two
Staring out at the snow, Christine cursed under her breath. Two days had passed since their arrival. Two days that she had spent sitting in her room. Alone.
Since the night of their arrival, Wesley seemed to be avoiding her. Although he had promised to serve as her entertainment−which had sounded so promising at the time−something had frightened him off. Had she been too forthright? Did men not appreciate women who…?
Again, Christine cursed under her breath. She was a renowned woman of the world, well-versed in every area of life. She was well-read, intelligent and even more so she rejoiced in those attributes and prided herself on her accomplishments. However, in this one area, she was a novice. Never had she had the courage to venture into the unknown and explore the secrets reserved for the marriage bed with a willing man of her acquaintance. Despite her own reasoning, she had always been too uncertain of herself and had shied away in the last moment.
However, with Wesley, it was different.
With him, Christine felt as though she could be herself. She had been so certain that he would approve of her outlook on life and welcome her rather unusual proposal. A proposal, she had to admit, she hadn’t quite but into words. At least, not explicitly.
Had he understood her meaning? Judging from the look on his face, he had. But why had he been so shocked? Did he not find her desirable?
Christine shook her head. No, that could not be it. For some reason that eluded her, he had been scandalised by her words. Surprisingly so.
Pacing the length of the room, Christine contemplated what to do next. If she allowed Wesley to have his way, she’d spent her entire stay at Sanford Manor−however long that would be−confined to her room. That thought made her physically ill and was, therefore, not even worth considering.
“Bloody hell,” Christine cursed and having made up her mind strode toward the door and yanked it open. At least, he had not gone so far as to lock it.
When she found the corridor to be empty, she ventured from her bedchamber without a second thought. Realising that she had no idea which room was Wesley’s, Christine pulled open the first door on her right, only to find it empty.
After two more failed attempts to locate him, the soft echo of booted footsteps echoed to her ears, and without hesitation, she proceeded to the other end of the corridor. Throwing open the door, she barged into the room.
“What the−?” Spinning around, Wesley froze as he beheld her. His hands dropped from the cravat he’d been attempting to tie. “What are you doing here? This is highly improper.”
Laughing, Christine threw the door closed. “Don’t you dare!” Hands on her hips, she strode toward him, eyes ablaze with fury.
With a frown drawing down his brows, Wesley turned to face her. “Is something wrong?”
Inhaling through her nose, she seethed with anger at his feigned ignorance. “You promised!” she snarled.
“I promised what?”
“To keep me company!” Shaking her head, she stepped in front of him, her hands trembling with barely contained rage. “I haven’t seen you in two days! I haven’t seen anyone in two days! I feel as though I’m going crazy!”
His eyes shifted to the door before they returned to her, and he took a step closer. “Would you lower your voice?”
Staring up at him in disbelief, Christine felt the last string of her patience snap. Without conscious thought, her hand flew forward, sailing toward the left side of his face.
However, instead of allowing her the satisfaction of slapping him, he caught her wrist in mid-air. An amused curl came to his lips then, the first sign that something other than indifference rested under his unconcerned exterior. “I’m deeply sorry for upsetting you,” he teased. “Had I known the depth of your displeasure, I would have…”
“You would have what?” she challenged, welcoming the sudden rush of emotions that invaded her body.
“I would have…” As though distracted, his eyes trailed lower and for a second lingered on h
er lips. However, before Christine could seize the moment to her advantage, his head snapped up and he cleared his throat. “I would have recommended a good book or two,” he finished lamely, belatedly realising that his hand was still wrapped around her wrist.
As though she had struck him, he released her and stepped back.
Disappointed, Christine took a deep breath, trying to focus her thoughts. “I napped today.”
A frown came to his face before he simply said, “Good.”
“Good?” she demanded. “Good? I’m not an old woman! I don’t nap!” Shaking her head, she began to pace around the room. “Do you even know why I napped? Not because I was tired. No, that at least would have been acceptable. No, because I was bored out of my mind! Do you hear me? Bored out of my mind!” As an afterthought, she added, “I’ve never been bored in my life.”
“I’m sorry,” was all he said as he stood there, the mask of indifference back on his face.
Seeing red, Christine stormed toward him.
Apparently aware of the murderous gleam in her eyes, he lifted his hands in appeasement.
However, fuelled by two days of immobility, Christine could not contain her anger. With her hands balled into fists, she attacked him, pummelling his chest.
For a brief moment, he did not stop her. However, when her efforts increased, he once more grabbed her wrists. “What do you want me to do?” he snapped, lowering his head and looking into her eyes. “We are both stuck here for the time being. After your infamous revelations, I was merely concerned for your reputation.”
Gritting her teeth, Christine stared up at him, annoyed by his pretence to care only about her reputation when she knew it to be a lie. Determined, she raised her chin. “My reputation is in no danger, my lord,” she whispered. “After all, you’re my brother-in-law.”
Instantly, his eyes narrowed, and she could see the muscles in his jaw tense up. “I’m not your brother-in-law,” he growled as his hands closed more tightly around her arms, and with one quick yank, he pulled her against him.
Christine gasped in surprise before a delighted smile curled up her lips. “Why does it upset you so that I consider you my brother-in-law?”
“Do you?” he demanded, his eyes drilling into hers, as he forced her arms back, wrapping her in a tight embrace.
Standing pressed against him, Christine felt the confinement of his hold on her with each shaking breath she took. “If you answer my question,” she teased, “I promise I’ll answer yours.”
Again, the muscles in his jaw tensed as he took a slow breath. Then, to Christine’s utter disappointment, he released her arms and stepped back. “Considering the position you’re in at the moment,” he growled out, his eyes shifting around the empty room, “it is ill-advised to…to tempt…” Shaking his head, he broke off and walked over to the window.
Following him, Christine felt her heart thudding in her chest. “To tempt you?”
He didn’t reply.
Determined to have her answer, Christine stepped around him, squeezing in-between him and the window. “Are you tempted?”
Drawing in a sharp breath, he swept his eyes over her face and down her body. “Do you even have to ask?”
Christine smiled. “Despite my outspokenness, I am not well-versed in…these matters.”
“Then why did you…?” He swallowed and shifted on his feet, leaning closer. “What do you want?”
“Did I not make that clear?”
“Abundantly so,” he admitted, and his hands rose to settle on her waist. “Only I cannot believe what I’m hearing.”
As she felt the heat of his hands burn through the fabric of her dress, Christine’s breath quickened. “Why not? Is it not enjoyable for women? Or are women not meant to enjoy it?”
His hands slid farther up her back. “Do you even know what you’re saying?”
“Well, as far as I’ve heard−”
“You’ve heard what?” His hands pressed her closer to him as his eyes searched hers.
Feeling her heart hammer against her rib cage, Christine forced herself to remain calm. She was so close. So close. If only… “If you truly doubt the source of my information−”
“How could I for I know nothing of it?”
“−then why don’t you advise me yourself?”
His eyes narrowed before they dropped to her lips. “Advise you?”
A slow smile came to her mouth as Christine placed her hands on the arms that held her. “Show me,” she whispered, seeing the temptation she was offering in his eyes. “Show me, Wes.” Glancing at his lips so close to her own, she pushed herself up on her toes. “I dare you.”
Although his hands tightened on her, she could see the struggle between desire and duty in his eyes. Swallowing, he lowered his head, his warm breath caressing her skin.
Christine closed her eyes. However, the moment she expected to feel his lips on hers, he tensed.
Instantly, her eyes flew open.
With his jaw clenched, he stepped back, shaking his head. “This is not right.”
Exasperated, Christine cursed his name. Then, before he could turn around and walk away, she stepped forward and quickly closed the distance between them. “But it feels right, doesn’t it?” Reaching up, she pulled him down to her, claiming the kiss she’d dreamed of since the moment their paths had crossed again so unexpectedly.
A part of her had been afraid that he would withdraw, that he would stop her, but he didn’t. Instead, after a brief moment of hesitation, he responded to her tentative kiss with a hunger she had only glimpsed underneath his controlled exterior.
***
Unable to help himself, Wesley kissed her back. He knew he shouldn’t. He knew it wasn’t wise. Far, far from wise actually, and yet, here he was, almost crushing her in his arms as he devoured her lips like a starving man. What on earth was the matter with him? He could not recall ever having lost control like this.
Nonetheless, a part of him wondered why he even cared. After all, had it not been her who had dictated the terms of their relationship? Was he not giving her exactly what she desired? Why should he have scruples of taking advantage of an innocent woman when she was all but begging him to do so?
Mistress.
That one word echoed in his mind, and he almost cringed at the disrespectful and slandering connotation associated with it.
In his eyes, if anything, Christine was the personification of loyalty. Without a second thought, she had come to her sister’s aid, doing her utmost to cheer her up and raise her spirits. Granted, she had a quite unique way of doing so. However, as unconventional as her methods were as true was her desire to guide Catherine and William back to their happily-ever-after. In order to achieve that, she was willing to risk her own reputation−for although she pretended not to care, Wesley doubted that she was being completely truthful on the matter.
For two days, she had sat in her bedchamber, and for all her threats and complaints, she had never once made good on them. The moment she had barged into his room, he had seen the strain on her face, annoyance so pure edged in her eyes that it had felt like a slap in the face to him, and he had instantly felt guilty for subjecting her to it. She had been right to lash out at him. After all, he had made her a promise.
Holding her in his arms, Wesley realised with a sudden shock as though a bucket of cold water had been poured over his head that her well-being mattered to him more than his own enjoyment. Being the younger, slightly irresponsible brother−the brother people generally didn’t expect much of because he was not the one to inherit the title−Wesley had never quite experienced the tender feelings of protectiveness that suddenly began to bloom in his heart.
How ironic that it was to happen now when she was the last woman in the world who would ask it of him. She didn’t want his protection, his name, his devotion…and love. She merely wanted his body.
And for the first time in his life, Wesley wanted more, needed more. Was he not worthy of love? Of bei
ng loved as the only man in a woman’s life? The only man in Christine’s life?
Breaking the kiss, Wesley stepped back, his eyes searching hers as he caught his breath. Determination hammered in his heart like never before, and from one second to the next, he knew exactly what he wanted. “Marry me.”
At his words, the delicious smile that had curled up her lips vanished, and she stared at him as though he had just made an improper proposal−quite on the contrary.
Swallowing, Wesley tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach and held her gaze, willing her to see the sincerity of his words.
However, when her hands fell from his arms and she stepped back, his heart sank and he knew that a long battle lay ahead of him.
“I don’t understand,” Christine said, her smoky green eyes searching his as though he had spoken in riddles. “I thought I’d made myself perfectly clear. I thought you, too, wanted nothing more but…”
Gritting his teeth, Wesley shook his head. “You cannot even say it, can you?” he challenged, seeing her answer in the slight blush that came to her cheeks. “You want me in your bed, and yet, you cannot even say the words.”
Clearing her throat, Christine raised her chin. “It is not easy fighting the manners that were drilled into you since birth,” she snapped, defensiveness glowing in her eyes. “Women are not supposed to…” She swallowed, unable to finish the sentence.
“And yet, you want to be someone’s mistress.” Taking a step forward, Wesley held her gaze. “My mistress.”
“I never said mistress,” Christine defended herself. “I only suggested it as a way of explaining my presence in this house. However, apart from this charade, I have no intention of being anyone’ mistress, just as I have no intention of being someone’s wife. I am my own person, and I will not lower myself to being someone’s anything. I will not be an accessory that a man can pride himself on acquiring.” Huffing, she stomped her foot. “I wanted to be…,” she took a deep breath, “lovers. I want to be to you what you are to me. Equals.” Taking a deep breath, she swallowed, then took a step closer, a soft curl to her lips. “What is wrong with enjoying one another for as long as possible and parting ways when passion wanes?” Running her hands up his chest, Christine pulled him closer, once more moulding her body to his.