by Bree Wolf
Drawing in a sharp breath, Wesley felt his own resolve waver as her lips closed in on his. She was correct. This did feel right. At least, his body argued that it did. His heart, however, thought it deserved better.
“I cannot do this,” Wesley spoke against her lips, cursing himself for this sudden and rather unexpected onslaught of conscience. Gritting his teeth, he looked down at her, a part of him unable to believe that she would truly reject him.
With disappointment shining in her dark green eyes, Christine stepped back. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Fearing the gap that would inevitably open between them, Wesley slung his arms around her, pulling her back against him. Holding her gaze, he said, “I care about you, Chris. Over the past two years, you’ve often been on my mind. Often quite unexpectedly. I’ve compared many a woman to you and found them lacking.”
A slight blush came to her cheeks as she averted her eyes, uncharacteristically shy for an outspoken woman like her.
“I admit I do want to possess you,” he said, and her gaze snapped up, narrowing. “I want you to be my wife, mine alone. I want to know that no one else will ever have a claim on you.”
Shaking her head, Christine chuckled. “I never thought you to be such a fool, Wes.”
“What?”
“Certainly there are exceptions,” she admitted, “but in its essence, marriage breeds liars. Because of a spur of the moment, you tie yourself to another, and from that day on, you’re trapped. People might not always realise it right away, however, the day comes when all passion is gone and the rest of your life looks as bleak as a rainy day.” A hint of pity rested in her eyes as she looked at him. “And then you have to make a choice: accept the prison of your own making and live by its rules or break free and deceive those around you in order to feel…something…anything.”
Frowning, Wesley stared at her. “I never knew you saw marriage that way. I never would have thought…After the way you supported Catherine and William, I−”
“She’s my sister,” Christine interjected. “I want her to be happy, and he was what she wanted. But do not believe that I did not counsel her to do otherwise.” A gentle smile came to her lips. “But she is not me. We all have to do what we feel compelled to.”
“What was it that gave you such an awful idea of marriage?” Wesley asked, remembering the cold cordiality that had always existed between his own parents. “Your father and mother always seemed…”
“Content?” Shaking her head, Christine sighed. “To this day, they care about each other. They always have. There is no dislike or animosity or even hate between them. They are…content. But that’s it. They’ve both lost their chance for love and passion a long time ago.”
Feeling utterly defeated, Wesley asked, “But what about marriage that begins with love?”
Her eyes narrowed as she regarded him with open curiosity.
Wesley swallowed, yet unwilling to explore how deep his feelings for her went. “What about Catherine and William’s marriage?”
“As I told you,” Christine replied, “I sincerely hope that they are the exception. I wish them all the best, but I fear that the odds are against them.” She sighed. “I thought you thought of marriage as I do, as a hindrance, a limitation, something to be avoided at all cost.” Searching his eyes, she smiled. “I thought you were my perfect match.”
Touched by her words, and yet, knowing how she meant them, Wesley shook his head. “Whether the word is mistress or lover, I’m afraid it is not enough for me. For even pretending that you are my mistress turns my stomach upside down. It is demeaning, and so is lover as far as society is concerned…although I do agree that it centres on a more enjoyable aspect of the relationship.” A soft grin came to his face as his eyes held hers, and for a moment, he thought to see deep sadness in them.
Then she blinked and forced the corners of her mouth back up. “What a pity,” she said, feigned cheerfulness in her tone. “And here I thought my search had finally come to an end.”
Wesley frowned. “Your search?”
“Well, if you’re unwilling to…,” she bit her lower lip and an embarrassed grin came to her mouth, “…share my bed, then I’m obligated to continue my search for a more willing gentleman.”
Involuntarily, Wesley’s arms tightened around her. “Any willing gentleman does not deserve the word.”
Christine chuckled, a hint of amusement back in her eyes. “Well, as I have already found an unwilling gentleman, I can tell you that he won’t do.”
As the muscles in his jaw clenched and unclenched, Wesley held her even tighter, fearing that she would slip away if he released her. “What are you saying?” he growled out, knowing exactly what her answer would be.
“I thought I’d made my intentions perfectly clear,” Christine repeated as her hands slid up his arms. Despite the playful tone in her voice, her eyes remained serious as they gazed up into his. “I will not be made a liar,” she whispered, “and so I will not promise something I cannot guarantee. How am I to know what will live in my heart in ten years or in twenty? Truly and honestly, I can only speak for right now, and that is all I have to give and all I expect in return.”
Drawing one calming breath after another into his lungs, Wesley found himself close to losing his mind. Wrapped in his arms, the woman he…Christine stood before him, boldly telling him that she would invite another gentleman into her bed should he refuse her.
Never in his life had Wesley felt so utterly at a loss.
“The thought of you with another man turns my stomach upside down,” he confessed.
A satisfied smile curled up her lips. “Then there’s a simple solution.”
“There’s not.” Shaking his head, he took a step back, loosening his hold on but not releasing her. “I do not want to live in fear for the rest of my days, dreading that one day when you find yourself bored by my presence.”
“Don’t we all?” Christine asked. “After all, although many people tend to believe so, marriage is not a guarantee for happiness. Maybe being aware of the possibility to lose someone will motivate us not to take those we care for for granted. Maybe there should be no guarantees. Maybe idleness is love’s slow death.”
Wesley swallowed. Although he had to admit that there was some merit to what she said, he could not fight that deep desire to make her his and declared it to the world once and for all. If only there were a way to change her mind. “You never truly had any objections to coming to Sanford Manor, did you?”
Biting her lower lip, she met his eyes. “Do you believe I lured you here to seduce you?”
“That thought has crossed my mind, yes.” A tentative smile came to his lips as he regarded her. She was a beautiful woman, and her quick wit was incredibly stimulating. Around her, he felt more alive than ever, and the thought of spending a single day without her sent cold shivers down his back. “I will not just step aside and let you walk out of my life,” he said, finally releasing his hold on her. “I want you.” Watching her, he saw the sparkle of mischief and humour leave her eyes, replaced by an awareness that almost brought him to his knees. “Know that I will not walk away.”
Breathing heavily, she held his gaze for a long time, the intensity in her eyes building until it became too much and she finally turned away. “Nevertheless,” she said, stepping toward the door, her eyes anywhere but on his, “I would ask you to respect my decision.”
Stepping up to her, he whispered in her ear, “I respect that it is your decision. However, I will do my utmost to change your mind.” As his breath caressed her neck, a slow shiver swept over her before her shoulders snapped back and she forced herself back under control.
Then she turned to face him, a forced smile drawing up the corners of her mouth. “Do what you must,” she dared him and then strode from the room.
Staring at the closed door, Wesley felt as though he had spent the better part of the day hiking through the country side. Physically and emotionally exhausted, he sa
nk into the large armchair by the fireplace, his eyes distant as he replayed the last few moments.
Ultimately, it all came down to one simple problem: the woman he…Christine was dead set against marriage.
But was that truly the problem? Wesley wondered. Would a woman in love ever under any circumstances reject the man she loved? Did that ever happen? Was the problem not that she did not want to marry, but that she did not want to marry him?
Considering that he had not yet declared his own feelings to her−which he hadn’t even admitted to himself−her apprehension might not be quite as unexpected as he had thought. Maybe all he had to do was declare his feelings. But would that be enough? Maybe it would only be the first step on a long journey to win her heart.
Raking his hands through his hair, Wesley frowned.
He had never set out to win a woman’s heart. How did one go about it?
Chapter Six − Stanhope Grove
With trembling hands, Christine closed the door to her bedchamber, then rested her back against it and closed her eyes.
It didn’t help.
Still, she saw Wesley’s smouldering gaze in her mind’s eye, felt his breath on her skin and heard his words of affection ringing in her ears.
Why would it bother her so that he cared for her? After all, didn’t she care for him as well? Naturally, he was her brother-in-law. Well, not quite, she corrected herself. However, he was family, and she was fond of him.
Very fond.
Gnawing on her lower lip, she willed her hammering heart to calm down. Had it only been the thought of sharing his bed that had unsettled her so? Did she have second thoughts after all? Although she had to admit that a certain nervousness had seized her the moment he had, she had enjoyed his kiss far too much. Not for a second had she thought of changing her mind.
For the first time in her life, Christine was unable to reason herself out of a situation and spent the rest of the evening pacing her chamber, tormented by questions she couldn’t bring herself to ask, let alone attempt to answer.
Sleep proved restless as well, and she spent most of the night tossing and turning. Toward the second half of the night, however, she fell into a deep slumber, and before long, dreams flitted before her eyes. And although she could not quite grasp them, a sense of warmth and delight stayed with her when her eyes opened once more.
Glancing around the dark room, Christine swallowed as she remembered the feel of Wesley’s hands on her body and the touch of his lips on her own. In her dream, he had whispered, ‘Marry me,’ only this time, she had said yes.
With trembling hands, Christine shot upright and wrapped her arms around her knees as she cursed for all she was worth. How dare that…that…man infiltrate her dreams? Was she insane? Thinking of accepting his proposal? No, no, no. She hadn’t thought it. She had merely dreamt it, and dreams, they were just insignificant musings, were they not?
Greatly disturbed by her own willingness to forget about her principles and marry Wesley no matter how fatal that would eventually prove to be, Christine fled from her bed. With limbs that simply could not be persuaded to calm, she paced her room once again, afraid that her dreams were a bad omen, precursors of what was to come if she gave in to the tender emotions that had so unexpectedly taken root in her heart. What had he done to her?
Afraid of what she might do, of what she might agree to the next time she laid eyes on him, Christine threw on a riding habit and carefully cracked open the door. When the coast remained clear and the house continued to slumber peacefully, she tiptoed out into the hallway and then down the stairs. Although the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, no one stopped her. Pulling a cloak around her against the cold, she slipped outside and headed for the stables.
As her teeth began to chatter, Christine pushed onward, her head slightly bent to escape the stinging wind that brushed over her face and pulled on her hair. At least, it was not snowing anymore.
When she finally slipped into the stables, she didn’t even mind the somewhat reeking warmth that engulfed her. Tiptoeing along the row of horseboxes, Christine stopped when a soft nicker reached her ear. A smile on her face, she turned to the silver-grey mare curiously stretching her nose toward her.
Then she stopped. What was she doing? Sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night to go…where exactly?
Closing her eyes, Christine took a deep breath. It was highly unusual for her not to have a plan, not to know what came next. However, in that moment, she couldn't even think of making a plan. All she could think of was to get away!
With her mind made up and no alternative presenting itself, Christine quickly led the mare from the box before she craned her neck, trying to locate a suitable bridle and saddle.
“Who’s there?”
Startled, Christine spun around just as an old man, a stable hand from the looks of it, came limping toward her. Swallowing, she straightened her shoulders.
“Who are you?” he demanded as his eyes slid over her.
“I’m a guest here,” Christine stated, disdain dripping from her voice. What else was she supposed to say? After all, it was true, was it not? “And you are?”
At her words, his eyes widened slightly, and a hint of recognition came to them. “The name’s Milton,” he said, his own voice laced with disrespect, and despite the dim light, Christine could see only too well what he thought of her. “Is there anything I can help you with,…Miss?” He might as well have said mistress. Apparently, it hadn’t taken long for gossip to spread!
Trying to remain unaffected by his rudeness, Christine raised her chin a fraction. “Saddle my horse.” Normally, she would have asked, but right then and there, she wasn’t in the mood. It took all the willpower she had to fight down the urge to defend herself and set things right. Conjuring her sister's face, Christine stilled her trembling hands and bit back the snide comments that would have saved her dignity.
“Yes, Miss.”
When she finally left Sanford Manor behind, the imprints of her mare’s hooves in the soft snow all that remained, Christine breathed a sigh of relief. Although she did not know where she was headed, it felt heavenly to have escaped her prison cell as well as the temptations that threatened.
The early morning air, crisp and fresh in her lungs, chased away the night’s dreams, and she turned toward the horizon where touches of dark red and purple began to dance across the sky. Christine sighed at the beautiful sight before her when she realised that returning before dawn was now out of the question.
Too occupied with her internal battles, she hadn't noticed how late−or rather early−it was. Ought she turn back? After all, all she wanted or rather needed−desperately so−were a few moments of peace. A few moments to collect her thoughts lest she lose her wits within earshot of the servants. Last night had proved beyond the shadow of a doubt that Wesley Everett knew well how to unsettle her. In the face of his proposal, she found herself unable to remain rational.
Again, a shiver ran down her back, and for a moment, Christine closed her eyes, remembering the soft touch of his lips.
No! Her mind screamed. She couldn't return. Not now. Not yet. At least not until she had reclaimed her faculties.
Again, her sister's image drifted before her inner eye, and Christine swallowed. "I shall only be gone a moment," she whispered into the morning air. "I promise I shall not ruin our plan."
Riding onward, Christine remembered Wesley telling her of a nearby neighbor, and for a moment, she hesitated, glancing in all directions, trying to determine what direction to avoid. Although she longed for human companionship−however, not that of Wesley Everett−Christine knew well that it would be foolish to seek out Sanford Manor's only neighbour. After all, there was no way for her to explain…
As she could not recall where Stanhope Grove−if that was even the correct name−was located, Christine decided to follow the sunrise and spurred on her mare before she could lose her nerve.
What had this man don
e to her? Never had she been hesitant in her decisions. Never had she doubted her own wits. Never had she run away.
Never!
For a second, Christine was about to turn around and face Wesley, no matter the consequences. However, once more, an image of her sister's tear-streaked face stopped her.
Shaking her head, Christine urged her mare on toward the sunrise. She could not risk her sister's happiness. At least for now, she needed to put a little distance between herself and Wesley Everett, and then she would return…and face him.
Turning down a small slope, Christine enjoyed the horse's movements as they flew across the snow-covered world. She could only hope that she would not accidentally stumble upon Stanhope Grove. However, even if she did, she could simply turn back. After all, who would be foolish enough to be riding out in this weather at the break of dawn?
***
The night had been one long torment. Unable to forget or even temporarily ignore Christine’s threat, Wesley found himself picturing his worst nightmare again and again: the woman he…Christine in another man’s arms.
Something had to be done!
Dressing in haste before the sun had even fully risen, Wesley stalked down into the kitchen and ordered an opulent breakfast to be served in the upstairs parlour. Although he was still intent on keeping her true identity a secret, Wesley knew that confining her to her room for much longer would prove fatal. Of that he was certain.
Raking his mind, Wesley tried to think of ways he could keep her entertained and in a good mood without agreeing to her scandalous, though tempting proposal. He wanted her to be happy, and maybe, just maybe, it would aid him in changing her mind. Maybe if he proved to her that they would always enjoy each other’s company, she would be willing to reconsider her answer.
