by Wolf, Bree
Still, Thorne could not say that he minded.
Quite on the contrary.
As Thorne stood in the hall of the Whickertons’ townhouse, waiting for Christina to meet him, the dowager countess stepped out of the drawing room and came toward him, once again leaning heavily upon her walking stick. “Mr. Sharpe,” she greeted him, an almost youthful spark in her pale eyes. “Here, again.” Her brows rose in a mocking gesture.
Thorne smiled. “Yes, I am here to see my betrothed.”
The dowager countess nodded. “Yes, it would seem you are unable to stay away from her.” The corners of her mouth crept upward into a grin. “I find that quite interesting. Quite interesting, indeed.”
Thorne knew that she was teasing him; only it was not out of malice. Far from it. There was affection in her eyes, and Thorne marveled at the thought that the dowager countess truly seemed to approve of him. Of course, she had not said so. As he had pointed out to Christina only a few days earlier, people rarely said what they thought. Still, if one looked closely, there were always signs that betrayed another’s true intentions.
Soft footsteps drew Thorne’s attention, and he turned to look toward the large staircase and found Christina slowly descending it to the ground floor. She wore a pale blue summer dress that made her look like an innocent maiden; although the shrewd expression in her deep blue eyes proved any such assumption wrong. Yes, she was a sheltered young woman, but one who was not afraid to explore the world.
Thorne quite liked that about her.
“Mr. Sharpe, I admit I’m quite surprised to see you here again,” Christina greeted him, the look in her eyes more pointed as she addressed him by his last name. “Did you not come to visit only yesterday?”
Thorne chuckled. “Are you saying you’re tiring of my company?” Yes, they had spent a lot of time with one another in recent days. Unfortunately, her family seemed to be almost aware of their desire to find some time alone and conduct their test. In consequence, one of them was always nearby, be it a sister or brother or even brother-in-law, their eyes watchful and concerned. Although Thorne could not help but be a little annoyed with them, he still loved the affection he knew to be the reason for their diligence, for their disapproval. They loved Christina, and they would protect her, no matter what.
That was family.
That was what Thorne wanted.
For himself as well as Samantha.
For all of them.
“Perhaps a little,” Christina replied, the tone in her voice belying her desire to tease him, but not wound him. It was a fine line, and yet somehow they managed not to cross it.
Stepping off the last step, Christina ventured toward them, her gaze sweeping from side to side as though she were looking for someone. “Where is everyone?” she asked before her eyes came to settle upon her grandmother.
Thorne turned and saw a bit of a wicked smile coming to the dowager countess’s face. “It is such fine weather,” she replied in answer to her granddaughter’s question, “that I suggested they take a stroll through Hyde Park.”
Christina frowned. “They left without me?”
“They may have been under the impression,” the dowager began, “that you had a headache and needed some rest.” Thorne barely managed to hold back a laugh, understanding the dowager’s words with perfect clarity.
“Where would they have gotten that impression?” Christina asked as her gaze moved from him to her grandmother.
“From me,” the dowager replied with a chuckle. Then her pale eyes turned to him. “Would you assist me onto the terrace? I believe, I would like to sit out in the sun for a little while.”
Thorne offered her a formal bow, grateful for the old woman’s interference. “Of course.” He held out his arm to her, and she took it, leaning upon him as they made their way to the terrace doors.
“Are you coming, my dear?” the dowager called over her shoulder, and a moment later, Thorne heard Christina’s footsteps catching up to them.
Once the dowager was comfortably settled in one of the terrace chairs, she waved her hands in a rather dismissive gesture at the two of them. “Now, leave and give an old lady some peace.” She inhaled deeply, momentarily closing her eyes in bliss. “What wonderful weather! If I felt up to it, nothing would please me more than a stroll through the gardens.” She all but cracked open one eye and looked at Thorne, something meaningful and rather insistent clearly visible in her expression.
“I quite agree.” Thorne turned and offered Christina his arm. “Would you care to join me?”
Her eyes met his, and he could see without a doubt that she, too, understood what had just happened here. Still, she accepted his offer and they proceeded down the few steps onto the lawns, not bothering with the gravel path, but instead finding their own way.
“My grandmother has a bit of a meddlesome streak,” Christina said with a chuckle as they headed deeper into the garden. Trees cast a welcoming shade, and the soft gurgle of a fountain nearby complemented the chirping of the birds somewhere above them. “One can never be quite certain what she will be up to next or what she might have already done.”
Thorne laughed. “But she means well.”
Christina nodded. “Yes, she does, and she has a way of…seeing the truth, I suppose you could say.” She turned her head to look at him, her blue eyes finding his. “I am not certain any of my sisters—or even my cousin—would be married today without her interference. She has a way of seeing when two people belong together.” A question seemed to linger in her gaze, yet she refrained from asking it.
“So,” Thorne began slowly, his gaze moving to a thick hedge up ahead, “your brothers and sisters are in Hyde Park?”
“So, it would seem.”
He quickened his step, pulling her along. “And your parents?”
Christina frowned at his increased pace. “I am not certain. Perhaps they joined them. Or they went to call on someone. Why?”
With a last glance over his shoulder at the terrace, Thorne urged her around the corner of the hedge. “I doubt your grandmother will follow us into the garden.”
Christina chuckled. “You would be correct in that assumption. Why? Why are you—?”
As soon as the hedge shielded them from curious eyes, Thorne abruptly turned to face her and all but caught her in his arms for her steps were still wide as she continued to try and keep up with him.
His arms slipped around her, and he could feel her breath against his lips as the distance between them shrunk to nothing in a matter of seconds. Her eyes widened, and he felt her lean back, momentarily overcome by the sudden closeness between them. “What are you—?” She broke off, and he could see understanding come to her eyes.
Thorne grinned at her, enjoying seeing her thrown off her guard. Clearly, she had not expected this; yet he could see temptation in her eyes. “Any objections?” he whispered, pulling her closer, holding her tighter, wanting her to know what he wanted and how desperately he wanted it.
Her breath faltered, and for a moment, she did not reply, her eyes wide and overwhelmed. Then she swallowed, and one little word emerged from her lips. “None.”
Thorne felt a somewhat primitive sense of triumph that she did not refuse him especially when she had—as she had told him the other day—been unwilling to accept a kiss from a gentleman before.
Abandoning that thought quickly, though, Thorne lowered his head to hers, eager to feel the brush of her lips. Her eyes fluttered shut, and he smiled the second before his mouth claimed hers.
Never had he wanted anyone more, and he could not imagine for that to ever change.
Chapter Twenty-Two
A Scoundrel’s Kiss
The moment his lips touched hers, Christina knew she was making a monumental mistake. She knew she ought not have allowed him to kiss her because now she knew. Now, she knew how wonderful it felt.
How intoxicating!
How…almost magical!
Irritatingly magical!
<
br /> After all, had she not agreed to marry him to protect her friend? What precisely was she protecting Sarah from? From stolen kisses that made her breath catch in her throat? From sinking into his arms and feeling the whole world fall away?
Guilt swept over Christina, warring with the teasingly wonderful sensations she had never known existed. Yes, she had imagined a kiss to be…pleasant, perhaps.
But not this!
Never this!
In truth, she lacked the words to do it justice, to explain how it made her feel, how he made her feel.
His arms held her close, keeping her from stepping away—not that she wanted to. His lips moved over hers in an utterly possessive way. She could feel that he wanted to kiss her as much as she longed for him to do so. Passion simmered in her veins, and a new sense of curiosity sparked somewhere down low.
At the same time, Christina began to feel lightheaded, her limbs growing weak as she sank deeper into his arms. She felt his knuckles brush along the line of her jaw before his hand moved to the back of her head, holding her to him and deepening the kiss.
Did all men kiss like this? She wondered somewhere in the back of her mind. Did gentlemen? Or was this kiss among those unspeakable things she had heard old matrons whisper about?
If so, Christina could not understand their objections to common men. To her utter shame, she had to admit that now that she knew how he could make her feel, she would be hard pressed to keep her distance from him.
His teeth nipped her lower lip, and Christina gasped, her hands reaching up to settle upon his shoulders. She needed something to hold onto lest her knees were to buckle, which they threatened to do any moment now.
How was she ever to face Sarah again?
It was a thought Christina did not want to think, especially not here and now. She tried to banish it. She tried to keep her attention focused on the man holding her in his arms.
Her betrothed.
Her future husband.
Because she had stolen him from Sarah, had she not? As much as Christina wanted to believe that it was not so, that she had done what she had done in order to protect her friend, the truth could not be denied.
How was she to ever face Sarah again?
Balling her hands into fists, Christina twisted out of his embrace, her heart hammering in her chest in a way that made her think it would stop any moment. She staggered backward, unable to look at him, her heart and mind utterly confused.
“Is something wrong?” Thorne asked, his breathing coming as fast as hers. She could hear him moving toward her and then felt his hand upon her arm, urging her to turn and look at him.
“It’s nothing,” she shot back, walking a few steps away, trying her best to regain some measure of composure. If only her pulse would stop beating with such force!
A chuckle echoed to her ears as he came after her. “Do not tell me you find your concerns confirmed!” Again, his hand seized her arm and this time spun her around, his eyes seeking hers. “You cannot tell me that that was not…” He drew in a panting breath, passion still darkening his eyes.
“Magical,” Christina whispered despite herself. She felt tears beginning to brim in her eyes so overcome was she with emotions, good and bad ones. What would she not give to be able to embrace this marriage? This man, and allow herself to be swept away on this tide?
Thorne pulled her into his arms once more, a wide smile coming to his face. “Indeed, utterly magical.”
Staring up at him, Christina shook her head. “No, it cannot…I cannot.” She pushed his arms away and took a step back. “It wasn’t supposed to feel like this.”
He frowned at her. “You’re upset because our kiss felt magical?” He shook his head. “You did not want it to be good? Why?”
Christina felt her head continue to shake from side to side as she began to pace along the length of the hedge, her thoughts and emotions hopelessly jumbled. “I’m a most despicable person. How could I have done this? How—?”
His hand closed over her arm and pulled her to him. “What are you talking about?” Anger lingered in his gaze, and Christina wondered if she had hurt him with her reaction. Was that possible? “Why are you so determined to dislike me? To discount what is between us?” He shook his head at her again. “Are wives not supposed to care for their husbands? Is it in poor taste among the ton?” Contempt swung in his voice as he stared down at her.
Christina’s breath still came fast as she found her gaze caught by his. She could not look away; neither could she answer, though. Part of her urged her to make it unmistakably clear that their marriage would be nothing more than a marriage of convenience. Had that not been his intention from the start?
Christina knew that it had. Still, the way he was looking at her right here, right now did not speak of a rational mind. The look in his eyes burned into hers, demanding an answer, demanding the truth. Could he see in her eyes somehow how deeply he affected her?
Closing her eyes, Christina could only hope that it was not so. “I believe it would be best for you to leave,” she whispered weakly, taking a step back, surprised and equally disappointed to find his hands fall away, releasing her.
Somewhere, deep down, the traitorous part of her heart had hoped that he would not allow her, that he would insist she answer him.
Blinking, she lifted her chin and looked up at him, praying that her emotions were not written all over her face. “You should leave.”
His gaze held hers, and she saw his lips pressed together into a tight line. “Is this what you want?”
Christina swallowed. “It is.”
Reluctance showed upon his face, and that traitorous little part in Christina’s heart rejoiced at the sight of it. What was she to do? Never had she expected herself to come to care for him. Not like this! It was a complication she had not foreseen. What was she to do?
In silence, they walked back to the house, the tension lingering between them in stark contrast to the lighthearted banter that had carried them outdoors earlier. Christina could sense waves of anger rolling off him. She could feel them brush against her skin. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the tension in his shoulders and could not help but think that he was exercising great restraint. It seemed clear—even to her, someone who knew him so little—that he wanted nothing more but to confront her. Yet he did not. He respected her wishes, her own emotional state. Could he truly see how she felt?
In an odd way, his reaction frustrated Christina even more. She wanted him to be the villain. She needed him to be the villain! If he was the villain, she was the hero, saving the damsel in distress. But what if he was not the villain? What would that make her then?
The villain, a quiet voice whispered in her head.
Christina almost flinched for she knew it to be true.
As shocking as it was, Christina had to admit that Mr. Thorne Sharpe—gentleman or not—was a good and decent man and would in all likelihood have made a good and decent husband for Sarah.
If Christina had not interfered, that was.
Accepting his hat from a footman, Thorne stepped toward the door, then turned back around to look upon her. His eyes fell upon hers, and she could see that, yes, she had hurt him. Oh, she was truly making a mess of things!
“I will leave then,” he said calmly although the tension in his voice still lingered. “I will leave,” he took a step closer, and slowly lowered his head to hers, “for now.”
Christina felt a shiver dance down her spine. Had his words been a threat or rather a promise? Either way, she could not deny that something inside of her rejoiced, knowing that her reaction had not driven him away.
He would return.
He was still her betrothed.
He was still hers.
Christina swallowed, doing her best to hold his gaze and not let him see how deeply those few words had unsettled her, stirred her heart. “Very well.”
The footman moved to open the door as Thorne turned toward it, casting a last
look at her over his shoulder. Unfortunately, the moment he made to depart, he pulled up short as someone else appeared on the front stoop, her face pale and her eyes wide.
Sarah.
Chapter Twenty-Three
A Heart’s Truth
Never in her life had Christina experienced a more awkward and painful moment. From the looks of it, neither had Thorne. He offered Sarah a polite greeting and a short bow and then quickly took his leave, undoubtedly relieved to escape the moment ahead.
Sarah, too, looked as though she was ready to faint. Her eyes were wide, and her cheeks were pale. Her gaze remained all but fixed upon Christina as though she did not dare look at Thorne. She never had, had she? Whenever Christina had seen Sarah with Thorne or near him, Sarah had always pointedly avoided eye contact as much as possible. She had always seemed frightened of him, the unease she felt in his presence written all over her face. Was that not what had prompted Christina to interfere?
Yes, initially she had been concerned for her friend. That had been her motivation, had it not? She had not set out to steal Sarah’s intended because she wanted him for herself. That had simply happened somehow over time.
When the door finally closed after Thorne, Christina slipped an arm through Sarah’s and pulled her away toward the drawing room. She could not help but wonder why Sarah had come because following the night Christina and Thorne had been discovered in the library, Sarah’s parents had been far too furious with the Whickertons to allow their daughter to visit. The friends had exchanged the occasional note, but there had been no more contact than that. What was Sarah doing here now?
“Are you all right?” Christina asked as they seated themselves. She offered Sarah tea, praying that her hands would not tremble.
Sarah heaved a deep sigh and wrung her hands in her lap before looking up and meeting Christina’s eyes. “I apologize for not seeing you sooner. My parents are still furious.” Confusion and regret lingered in her voice, and Christina could see the same torn expression she suspected showed on her own face as well.
