by Wolf, Bree
“What would you do,” Christina asked all of a sudden, “if I were to disobey you? To insult you even?” She took one more step and then turned on her heel and faced him, her blue eyes wide and unflinching, demanding an answer.
Thorne chuckled. “Have you not already done so? You’ve told me quite honestly what you thought of me, what you still think of me. As far as I’m aware, you never hesitate to speak your mind, and—”
“Is that something that displeases you?” she asked, and from the tone in her voice Thorne knew that there was only one right answer.
Holding her gaze, Thorne took a slow step toward her until barely an arm’s-length separated them. He watched her draw in a slow breath, the muscles in her neck and shoulders tightening as she held her ground, her blue eyes as watchful as before. “I am aware,” he began, his voice no more than a whisper, “that gentlemen of the ton do not favor women who think for themselves. However, as you have so often pointed out, I am not a gentleman.”
“Does that mean that it does not displease you if I voice my own thoughts? Especially when they’re different from your own?”
Thorne felt the corners of his mouth twitch. “I might not always like what you have to say, but I find that I quite enjoy arguing with you. I suppose, if we always agreed, life would be utterly boring.” He could see something sparking in her eyes, amusement and a sense of approval. Perhaps he had answered correctly, the way she had wanted him to. Only a spark of concern remained. “What is it that frightens you?”
Like a whiplash, her brows drew down, and a scowl came to her face. “I’m not frightened,” she insisted, lifting her arms and crossing them in front of her chest in a gesture of utter defiance.
Thorne did not reply. He merely lifted his brows in challenge…and waited.
Chapter Twenty
Ridiculous Notions
Christina could see the daring gleam in his eyes. It was clear he was challenging her. Hence, he did not seem to wish to see her back down, bow her head and retreat. Instead, she could not help but think that he wanted her to rise to the challenge. Few men wanted their wives to stand tall, did they? Only men in love ever dared. Was Mr. Sharpe perhaps a rare specimen?
Deciding that at least in this instance there was nothing to lose by being blunt, Christina lifted her chin and willed her arms to loosen, releasing them from their tight hold. “Very well,” she said, instantly beginning to feel better about herself by accepting this challenge. “If you truly wish to know, then, yes, there is something that…I’ve been wondering about.”
Something mischievous sparked in his eyes for he had no doubt taken note of her inability to use the word frightened in her reply. “Do tell.”
After her conversation with her mother and then later with her sisters, Christina had spent hours mulling over everything she had been told. In conclusion, she realized that it all depended upon the kind of man Mr. Sharpe was. So far, everything she had learned of him had made her unafraid to enter into this marriage.
Slightly concerned, perhaps, but unafraid.
It certainly would be a challenge, but Christina felt confident that she would master it. Yes, even if time would prove that they would never come to care for one another, separate living arrangements were not unheard of among the ton. Some married couples spent no more than a handful of days or perhaps weeks under the same roof with one another.
The only concern that remained was the marital bed.
It annoyed Christina that she had no specific knowledge of what awaited her for it seemed that very few people ever spoke about the marital bed openly. Even her mother and sisters had seemed reluctant as though it was a topic that one should never venture to discuss. All she had to go on were rumors and whispers and overheard snippets of conversations.
Perhaps speaking about this to her future husband would ultimately prove a marvelous idea indeed. And so, Christina cleared her throat, willed her courage not to falter and said, “As we both agree that you do not qualify as a gentleman,” he chuckled, “I find myself slightly concerned with…expectations in the marital bed.”
His chuckle ceased abruptly, and he stilled, staring at her.
Mortification began to rise up her cheeks, and Christina huffed out an annoyed breath, trying her best not to let it show. “Do not act so shocked!” she chided, fighting the urge to once more cross her arms over her chest. “I have every right to be concerned.”
Mr. Sharpe blinked a couple of times, his mouth opening and closing, then opening again. Clearly, her words seemed to puzzle him; for a reason Christina could not even begin to fathom. Then, after a small eternity, he cleared his throat, his eyes once more focusing on her. “Allow me to clarify,” he began, grasping his chin in thought. “You are concerned with my expectations in the marital bed because I am not a gentleman?” He said each word slowly as though he needed time to grasp the thought he was trying to convey.
Christina swallowed. “Yes. Why is that such a surprise to you?”
He frowned, that look of incomprehension still clouding his features. “You are concerned because I am not a gentleman?”
Christina huffed out another breath. “Yes!”
“And you wouldn’t be concerned if I were a gentleman?”
Glaring at him, Christina rested her hands upon her hips. “Have you recently suffered a blow to the head, Sir? Or why does it seem so hard for you to grasp this simple concept?” Indeed, with each word, her mortification seemed to worsen. Her cheeks felt hot, and the pulse in her neck hammered far too rapidly. She could only hope he had not noticed.
Beginning to recover, Mr. Sharpe grinned at her, amusement twinkling in his eyes, fueling Christina’s desire to sink into a hole in the ground. “May I ask? What expectations were you thinking of?”
“Must you ask?” Christina snapped.
“I’m afraid I must.”
She glared at him. “As though you don’t know!”
Again, he stilled, and his eyes narrowed as though he was trying to look at her more closely. “Do you?”
Oh, if only she had not begun this line of questioning! She could not retreat now, could she?
Clearing her throat, Christina willed her gaze not to drop from his. “I’ve heard people whisper of…unspeakable things commonly-bred husbands demand of their wives.” There! She had said it. After all, there was no further explanation she could give as she had none. That was the whole point!
Again, Mr. Sharpe chuckled.
“Do you have to laugh at me?” Christina demanded indignantly, wondering if she had been completely mistaken in her impression of him. “It is rather disrespectful.”
He shook his head, a hint of apology in his gaze. “I’m sorry. I assure you I am not laughing at you. I am laughing at the ridiculous notions you have overheard.”
Christina frowned. “Ridiculous?”
Again, he laughed, rather out loud this time. “I’m afraid so.” He inhaled a deep breath, clearly seeking to calm himself, before he stepped closer, his gaze fixed upon hers. “Of course, men are not all the same—neither are women; however, expectations cannot be split along the line of nobility. You say you’re worried about what I would want from you because I am a common man.”
Christina nodded.
“But you have no notion what that could be? Only that, as a lady I suppose, it should worry you?”
Again, Christina nodded.
Smiling at her, Mr. Sharpe paused. “Have you ever been kissed?” he asked abruptly before his gaze darted downward to touch upon her lips.
Christina drew in an unsteady breath, aware that it was neither indignation nor outrage that sent a tremble through her this time. “I have not.”
“Why?”
“I…” She shrugged, remembering the moment Lord Kenton had tried to kiss her. “I did not wish to.”
He nodded in understanding. “Has anyone ever tried to steal a kiss?” An odd tension rang in his voice as he asked that question.
Christina nodded, a
nd the muscle in his jaw twitched again. “Once,” she replied as her mind once more traveled back to the moment Lord Kenton had drawn closer. She had seen the intention in his eyes, and she had intuitively known that she had not wanted his kiss. “He was a perfectly amiable gentleman; however, I simply…I…”
Mr. Sharpe nodded, something soft and kind and understanding coming to his eyes. “That is what matters, is it not?” He smiled at her. “It is not about who we are—lord or commoner; lady or maiden.” A quick grin flashed across his face before he inched closer by no more than a fraction. Still, Christina felt his nearness as though he had touched her, and she could not say she minded. “It is about how we feel together,” Mr. Sharpe continued in that soft, alluring whisper, his watchful eyes trailing over her features like a caress, “how you feel about me, how I feel about you.” The corners of his mouth twitched in wicked amusement. “Perhaps a test would help you decide if there is reason for concern.”
Christina swallowed, somewhat displeased with her own reaction to him; still, she could not deny the pleasurable tingle his words elicited. “A test? What do you mean?”
The corners of his mouth stretched into an irritatingly appealing grin as he leaned closer conspiratorially. “I’m speaking of a kiss, of course.” He said no more, his gaze watchful upon her as he waited.
“You want to kiss me?” Christina asked for clarity’s sake as well as the need to provide herself with an additional moment to gather her thoughts.
“Yes. Does that surprise you?”
She regarded him carefully. “You’re teasing me. Why?” Although she could not say that she minded. Somehow, it made it easier to talk to him.
Mr. Sharpe shrugged. “That I cannot say. It seems to come naturally to me whenever I’m near you.” He chuckled. “Although I cannot say that you look as though it truly bothers you. You certainly try to pretend that it does; however, I cannot help but think that—secretly—you quite like it.”
Staring at him, Christina shook her head. “You’re unbelievable!” Never in her life had a gentleman spoken to her in such a direct and straightforward manner. Yet he was not a gentleman. That much they had established countless times by now.
“Thank you!”
“Again, it is not a compliment.”
He shrugged. “I choose to see it as one. Is that not what life is about? Our choices?” Those green eyes of his sparkled with something that spoke of a vivacious nature Christina had never truly seen in any of the men of her acquaintance. Mr. Sharpe seemed to have a zest for life that none had ever matched before. Despite all the suffering he had had to endure, he looked at life and saw its beauty.
Christina held his gaze, uncertain about the direction of their conversation, but undoubtedly intrigued. “And what is your choice?”
“You,” he whispered without hesitation, daring claiming his eyes as though he knew that his answer would stun her.
Christina wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that he had chosen her out of his own free will because there was something about her that no other woman possessed. She wanted to be special. She wanted…to be the one.
At the same time, however, she knew that she was not. After all, she knew better than anyone why he had chosen her. How they had come to be betrothed. She knew, and yet in some moments, she all but forgot, distracted with hopes and wishes she had thus far never realized lived in her heart.
Steeling herself against the almost magnetic pull of his words, Christina rolled her eyes at him, doing her best to pretend that they did not affect her in the least. “Yes, and we all know why. We all know, equally well, why I chose you,” she replied, needing him to know that she did not want him anymore than he wanted her.
Indeed, they were equally matched, each having chosen the other for reasons that had nothing to do with affection. At least, that was what Christina chose to believe.
Mr. Sharpe chuckled, something he seemed to be wont to do. “So, you do not want to marry me?”
Christina swallowed. “No. You are merely the lesser of two evils.”
He laughed. “But you will marry me?”
“Yes.”
“Although you’re concerned about the marriage bed?”
“Yes.” Christina willed her cheeks not to flush.
“And yet you wish to kiss me?”
“Yes.” The word left Christina’s lips before she could hold it back. The flush she was desperately fighting to hold back shot to her cheeks, and she could feel its heat like the blistering sun. Mortification burned in her veins, and she glared at her betrothed. “You scoundrel! You truly have no manners. You—”
Her voice broke off as he stepped closer, and she could feel his breath fan over her lips. “I wish to kiss you as well,” he whispered then, the look in his eyes open and honest and almost vulnerable.
Christina drew in a shuddering breath, trying her best to hold on to the shred of composure she had left. “You do?”
The right corner of his mouth twitched. “Did you truly not know? Have I not made it abundantly clear that I do?”
Her mouth opened and closed before she managed to find the words. “How was I to know? You never said a word about—”
“Of course, I never said a word. People rarely say what they want, do they?” His gaze drifted down to her lips once more; only briefly, but long enough for her to notice, to feel. “Nonetheless, there are other ways of making one’s intentions unmistakably clear.”
Christina felt her head begin to spin. It was a sensation she had never experienced in this way before. His meaning became abundantly clear, and she quite understood what he meant. Had he not looked at her like this before? That night in the library?
The thought that he might want her in this small way at least brought a flutter to Christina’s belly. Was that what people meant when they spoke of butterflies? Yes, it felt odd, but oddly intoxicating.
“Would you mind?” Mr. Sharpe asked, making no move to step away and put a more appropriate distance between them. “If I were to kiss you, would you mind?”
Of course, their rather unorthodox relationship had always been a battle of minds. From the first, Christina had felt the need to outdo him, to triumph over him. Only she had just as easily seen that he, too, felt that very way. In that regard, of course, she ought to decline, she ought to refuse him and put him in his place. Yet that would leave her unkissed, and Christina was quite certain that would bother her even more.
“I suppose, I would be amenable to the kind of test you proposed earlier,” she finally replied in her most condescending voice.
Although she expected it, Mr. Sharpe’s laughing reply was no less irritating. “Oh, you would be amenable. How very flattering!”
“Well?” Christina prompted, slowly becoming aware of a slight pinch in the back of her neck. After all, they had been standing like this for quite some time, forcing her to tilt her head upward to hold his gaze. How she had not noticed this before, how very tall he was, Christina could not fathom? Indeed, she suddenly felt dwarfed standing so close.
“Well, what?”
She regarded him with a chiding look. “Will you kiss me, or not?”
His smile brightened, and something deeply tempting came to his gaze. “As much as I would like to kiss you here and now, I do not dare.”
To Christina’s surprise, a deep sense of disappointment welled up in her chest. Heaven help her, but she seemed far too eager for his kiss. “Why?”
His gaze slowly moved from hers and traveled to something beyond her shoulder. “It would seem that your family’s nosiness knows no bounds, which is—I suppose—precisely why they are right over there, watching us closely.” He chuckled, no sign of alarm in the way he spoke. “Indeed, if I am not at all mistaken your brother as well as brothers-in-law are presently entertaining rather murderous thoughts toward me.” Grinning, he looked down at her. “I am not fool enough to encourage them to put whatever plans might be forming in their minds into action.” He inhale
d a slow breath and looked at her for a long time, something thoughtful in his gaze. Then he whispered, “Later,” something irritatingly magical in the way he was looking at her.
Despite her best intentions, Christina felt herself respond, felt herself begin to yearn and regret the lack of privacy that prevented him from kissing her here and now. “Later.”
He nodded in agreement, then reached out to hold her back as she made to turn away. His gaze once more settled upon hers, and Christina could see that what he was about to say would not be negotiable. “Call me Thorne,” he demanded, the hand upon her arm steady and relentless. “Chris.”
“That would not be appropriate,” Christina replied instantly for it was part of the dance they had been engaged in since the first time they met, was it not? He made a demand, and she refused him; and vice versa. Those were the rules, were they not? The rules that had somehow developed between them.
Thorne laughed, clearly amused and even delighted with the way she always sought to resist him. “I don’t care.” His brows rose teasingly. “Do you? Truly?”
Christina regarded him carefully. “Thorne,” she murmured, trying out his name and finding herself surprised at how natural it felt to say it. Of course, he was not to know that! “The name suits you for you seem to be a thorn in my side, constantly irritating me.”
A wide smile came to his face. “Oh, Chris, I’ve grown quite fond of you as well.” Then his hand fell from her arm, and Christina found herself wishing it had not.
Indeed, it seemed that she was finding her future husband far too appealing. A most inconvenient development!
If only she knew what to do about it!
Chapter Twenty-One
Shielded from Prying Eyes
Thorne found himself looking forward to every moment he was able to spend in Christina’s presence. She was a delightful woman, bold and yet caring although she was far from admitting any amiable emotions toward him. They seemed constantly locked in some kind of competition, always trying to outdo the other, to come out on top.
