Once Upon an Irritatingly Magical Kiss: #3 The Whickertons in Love

by Wolf, Bree

  Grinning from ear to ear, Samantha nodded. “Will we go to London? To see father?”

  Christina froze, but managed to maintain a smile upon her face. “At some point, we will. Right now, you need to warm up. I shall see you at supper.” She looked after Samantha as the girl followed her governess to her chambers.

  With her thoughts once more lingering upon her husband, Christina soaked in a bath of her own and then dressed for supper. Her mind and heart were still in an uproar as she headed down to the dining room. She tried her best to converse with Samantha, but found her thoughts straying time and time again.

  When she finally fell into bed that night, Christina felt exhausted. Her limbs felt weak despite the soothing bath, and yet she could not deny that she had enjoyed the day with Samantha greatly. She had laughed in a way she had not in a long time, and remembering their little dance in the rain still brought a smile to her face.

  “Perhaps all shall be well after all,” she whispered to herself in the dark before her thoughts once more returned to her husband and the moments before they had last parted. They returned to their kiss, and as Christina fell asleep, she could almost feel his arms wrap around her.

  Thunder rolled in the distance when Christina woke with a start. Her chamber was still dark, not even a hint of dawn visible through the windows. Nevertheless, awareness crawled over her skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

  Someone was in her room.

  “Christina?” a faint little voice whispered. A voice full of fear. A voice that was undoubtedly Samantha’s.

  Pushing upright, Christina swept her eyes over the room, seeing nothing but hulking shadows in the dim light of the silvery moon that shone in through the windows. Christina had never been one to draw the curtains for she had always loved the soft lights that still existed even in the deepest night. “Sam, is that you? Where are you?”

  Out of the shadow near the door, a smaller one separated, and she could hear soft footfalls as the little girl slowly made her way over to Christina’s bed. Her face seemed pale in the dim light, and her eyes were open wide as she kept turning her head from side to side as though afraid that something might come at her.

  Christina quickly slipped from her bed and rushed over to the little girl, pulling her into her arms. “What are you doing here? Is something wrong with Mrs. Huxley?” Samantha’s little hands and feet were ice-cold, and Christina quickly lifted her into her arms and carried her to the bed.

  “No,” Samantha replied as she snuggled up next to Christina under the blanket. “She is sleeping in her chamber.”

  “Then what are you doing here?” Christina asked as she rubbed the girl’s arms and legs to bring back some warmth.

  Snuggling deeper into Christina’s embrace, Samantha whispered, “I didn’t want her. I wanted you.”

  Those few little words whispered with such open affection and innocent trust warmed Christina more than anything else ever had. It reminded her of her own family, of the love they had always shared, of how safe she had always felt with them, knowing that no matter what there were people in her life who would always stand with her.

  “You can always come to me,” Christina mumbled before placing a soft kiss upon the girl’s head. “We are family now, and I will always be there for you. I promise.”

  “You, me and Papa?”

  Christina inhaled a deep breath. “Yes. All of us.” Perhaps it was possible. Perhaps if they simply were to believe in it, it would be.

  Perhaps.

  “I had a bad dream,” Samantha whispered near Christina’s ear. “And I don’t like the thunder. Or the shadows. It always makes me think there’s someone in my chamber.”

  Christina held the little girl tighter. “I used to feel like that, too. I would often sneak into my sister’s room, and we would huddle up in bed together when we were younger. We would tell each other stories and try to distract one another from being afraid.”

  “What stories?”

  Christina paused, realizing that she had spoken without thought. “Oh, that is not important. We just made up things that…brought us joy, to chase away the fear.” Always had it brought Christina joy to conjure stories out of nothing. To create worlds and people and creatures. To speak of heroes and villains, of great deeds and daring adventures.

  “Can you tell me such a story?” Samantha asked, hope ringing in her voice as she pushed herself up onto her elbow and looked down at Christina. “Perhaps then I won’t be afraid anymore.”

  For a moment, Christina was tempted to refuse her. It was a part of her life she had banished into the shadows long ago. Only the pleading look in the girl’s eyes would not allow her. “Very well. If you insist.”

  Samantha smiled. “I do.”

  Snuggling back down, Christina stared up at the ceiling, Samantha in her arms, and let her thoughts wander. “Have you ever seen fireflies dance at dusk?”

  Christina felt Samantha’s head nod up and down. “Yes, I have. Far out by the woods and the lake.”

  Christina smiled. “Did you know that not all fireflies are truly fireflies?”

  She could feel Samantha frown against her shoulder. “Then what are they?”

  Deep happiness settled in Christina’s heart, something warm and contented and heartbreakingly beautiful. She closed her eyes and inhaled a deep breath before breathing one simple word out into the dark, “Fairies.”

  In her arms, Samantha stilled, and Christina could all but feel a hum of excitement go through the girl’s little body. Anticipation lingered in the air, and she knew without looking that Samantha needed to know more. “They live in a world all their own, out in the forests, in hollow trees and burrows. They live everywhere, unseen and safe, away from people for the most important rule, the very first one every fairy learns is to never show themselves to people.”

  “Why not?” Samantha whispered, and the fingers of her left hand curled into the fabric of Christina’s sleeve. “I wish I could see a fairy. What do they look like?”

  “They’re small, very small,” Christina whispered into the dark as memories of her own childhood resurfaced, a childhood full of stories and adventure. “Their wings are translucent, but they glow as bright as the sun. During a bright summer’s day, they are well hidden, but in the dark, their bright light draws others near. That’s why they often live where there are fireflies, to hide themselves, to remain safe from curious eyes.”

  “Has no one ever seen them? No one?”

  Christina felt a most wonderful smile play across her face. “Well, once there was a young girl…”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  A Promised Return

  Thorne left London the very moment his last meeting with Lord Huntington ended. He had been away from Pinewood Manor and his family for more than a sennight, and he could not wait to return home.

  Uncertain whether he had achieved anything meaningful, Thorne continued to replay the many conversations he had held during his stay in London again and again in his mind. Lord Whickerton had been most helpful in influencing others to listen. Unfortunately, not even his new father-in-law could work miracles. Most lords had other things on their minds besides safety regulations and healthcare needs for the common men, women and children. Few had ever laid eyes on a burn victim or someone with a missing limb. They could not imagine the life that others lived day after day.

  To Thorne, it was frustrating to no end. To look into these men’s bored faces and know that they spent their fortunes on frivolous things while others did not possess enough to feed their families. It was an unjust world, and Thorne always felt his anger stir whenever he stood up to fight for those who did not have a voice.

  There were days when every thought of his that was occupied with something other than their plight felt like a betrayal. How could he laugh and enjoy himself when others suffered so much? How did he dare?

  Nonetheless, there was not much Thorne could do. He could not change the world on his own. He needed others to
join him. Yes, many had turned a deaf ear, but some had listened. Perhaps with time and repetition, he could secure their support and eventually bring about change.

  It was his greatest hope for he knew not what else to do.

  Yet this fight drained him for it often seemed impossible. It exhausted his mind and heart and even his body, and sometimes all he wanted was to forget about it and live in a moment of oblivion.

  In these moments, the desire to return to his family pulled at him the strongest, to such an extent that he could barely resist. So, when Thorne left Lord Huntington’s townhouse that night, he did not even return to his own. He mounted his gelding and urged it down the road leading out of London and into the country.

  Toward Pinewood Manor.

  Toward home.

  And his family.

  Thorne rode until it was too dark to see. Midnight was near when he finally came upon an inn, grateful not to have to spend a night on the road. Trudging up the stairs to his room, he lay down on the bed and closed his eyes. Although exhaustion pulled on him, his mind once more returned to the moment he had bid his wife farewell.

  Countless times over the past sennight had he done so. Countless times had he relived that moment.

  That kiss.

  That look in her eyes.

  Those words that…had given him hope.

  Before he had left, an icy distance had been between them. He had felt it every day, uncertain what to do about it. More than once had he been close to confronting her. Yet he had not. He had felt guilty, knowing that Christina had good reason to distrust him, to punish him even for what he had done. He had lied to her and manipulated her into accepting his hand.

  He ought not have done so.

  Thorne also remembered his last words to her. If you do not stop me, if you do not speak out loud and clear, the moment I return from London, you will be back in my arms.

  Would she? It was the one question that had all but tormented him this past week. Would she stop him? Would she tell him to leave her alone?

  Or would she not?

  Exhaustion finally closed Thorne’s eyes; however, not long before dawn began lurking upon the horizon did he rise once more and head down to the stables to continue his journey.

  Fortunately, on horseback, he was able to travel faster than they had by carriage the day they had first arrived. And so, Thorne found his gaze catch a first glimpse of Pinewood Manor no more than three hours after the sun had begun rising in the east. It was still early in the day, and he wondered if his wife was already awake. Was she already down in the breakfast parlor? Or was she still asleep in her chambers?

  Eagerness burned in his veins, and he hoped with every fiber of his being that she would not refuse him. Thorne did not know what he would do if she did, but he feared he might perish.

  Grateful for the stable boy who came running the moment he jumped off his horse, Thorne quickly climbed the steps of the front door and headed into the hall. Reuben appeared out of nowhere and offered a respectful bow. “Welcome back, Sir.”

  Thorne nodded to the old man. “Good morning. Is my wife already up?”

  “I believe not, Sir.”

  Without another word or glance at his butler, Thorne climbed the stairs toward the first floor two at a time. A part of him felt foolish, even urged him to slow down, to remain cautious. Only he was unable to comply.

  Large strides carried him down the corridor, his gaze fixed upon the door to his wife’s chamber. Ought he to knock? Would she be furious with him if he simply burst in?

  A soft chuckle drifted from his lips because he knew that she would be. Yet more often than not, it seemed that she liked being furious with him. He, too, could not deny that he loved her spirit, her directness, the way she offered resistance. It was almost a game between them, a game that had often enough ended in a kiss.

  Would it today?

  Thorne hesitated outside her door, but for no more than a second. He was willing to risk her wrath. He would rather she snap at him instead of denying him entrance. And so, he opened the door, quietly, and stepped inside.

  Although not a sound drifted to his ears, the curtains were no longer drawn. Had she left them open over night? Or had she already risen without Reuben noticing?

  Closing the door, Thorne turned toward the bed. He felt like an intruder, and yet he could not help himself. His gaze drifted up the covers, imagining her tempting body underneath, until they fell upon the small hand of a child.

  Thorne blinked as his feet drew to a halt. “Sam?” he mumbled as he stared at his wife and daughter, snuggled in each other’s arms, eyes closed and sleeping peacefully.

  Always had he known that Christina would eventually succumb to Samantha’s daring spirit and innocent laughter. Only this he had never imagined. Something had to have happened in his absence, and he wished he knew what that was.

  He wished it could work for him and Christina as well. Perhaps if he asked, Samantha would share her secret with him.

  For a long time, Thorne remained by the foot of the bed, his eyes drawn to them. Never had he seen them so peaceful, not even Samantha. The girl seemed to breathe more easily with Christina’s arm wrapped around her.

  A wide yawn suddenly stretched across the little girl’s face as she turned in Christina’s arms, her own stretching as slumber slowly fell away. Christina, too, began to stir as though sensing the girl was close to waking.

  The moment Samantha beheld him standing by the bed, her eyes opened wide and then she suddenly surged upward. “Papa!” Jumping to her feet, she tiptoed across the mattress and then flung herself into his arms. “You’re back!”

  Thorne held her tightly, always amazed at the feeling that swept through him when those little arms wrapped around his neck. There was nothing like it.

  Nothing.

  Over his daughter’s shoulder, Thorne saw his wife blink her eyes and then pushed herself up onto her elbows. Sleep still lingered upon her face, and she brushed a hand over her eyes before looking up at him.

  “Good morning,” Thorne greeted her with a grin when he saw a soft hint of red come to her cheeks. She inhaled an unsteady breath and then slowly reached out to pull the covers higher, almost up to her chin.

  Thorne’s grin deepened until his wife, finally abandoning the attempt to hide from him, pushed herself into a sitting position and met his eyes with an unflinching look of her own. “So, you have returned,” she stated; something other than mere observation swung in her voice. It almost sounded like a challenge.

  Thorne nodded, wondering if she remembered the words he had last spoken to her. The promise. “I have,” he replied, wishing he knew if she could see the memory upon his face.

  Setting Samantha back down onto the bed, Thorne looked at his daughter. “What are you doing here? I must say I’m quite surprised.”

  Samantha cast a warm smile over her shoulder at Christina, a smile that was full of shared memories and whispered secrets. “I had a nightmare,” Samantha said, turning back to look at him, a hint of fear still in her eyes. “I was frightened, and so I came in here.” And then all of a sudden, her face brightened in a way as Thorne had rarely seen it. “Christina told me a story about fairies. It was so beautiful. Did you know that fairies are all around us? They pretend to be fireflies to keep themselves safe.”

  Thorne returned her smile. “I had no idea. Perhaps you can tell me more about this after breakfast. You must be hungry.” It was true, he did wish to know more about what had happened between his wife and daughter in his absence. At present, though, he could not deny that there was another matter on his mind.

  Behind them, Christina was slipping from the bed and pulling on a robe. Her delicate hands moved swiftly to tie the belt before she walked around to the foot of the bed, her bright blue eyes coming to rest upon Samantha. “Perhaps you should go find Mrs. Huxley and get dressed. I admit I’m quite famished myself.”

  Jumping off the bed, Samantha beamed up at her. “Will you tell
me more stories? About fairies?”

  Smiling, Christina placed a gentle hand upon the girl’s cheek. “Of course. Anytime you wish. Now, go and get dressed.”

  With her curls bouncing up and down, Samantha skipped from the room, a soft melody drifting from her lips as she continued down the corridor.

  Following in his daughter’s wake, Thorne moved toward the door…and closed it. Then he turned back around to look at his wife.

  Her eyes were watchful as she regarded him. “What are you doing in my chamber?” Briefly, her gaze left his and darted to the door at his back. “You did not knock, did you?”

  Thorne grinned at her. “How would you know? You were fast asleep.” Reminding himself not to rush things, Thorne moved toward her slowly.

  Her breath seemed to catch in her throat; however, her eyes remained upon his. “Is this a way for a gentleman to conduct himself? To enter a lady’s chamber without invitation?”

  Thorne chuckled, approaching another step. “Did you truly expect differently? Was it not you who told me repeatedly that I was not a gentleman?”

  Her lips curled into the beginnings of a smile as she retreated a step. Fortunately, there was nothing timid or even fearful about her. She did not retreat out of concern, but…to lure him closer? “Gentleman or not, you have no right to be in my chamber.” She retreated another step until her back came up against the right column at the foot of the bed.

  Holding her gaze, Thorne ignored her words. “Is that so?” He watched her chin rise with each step he took, her blue eyes remaining fixed upon his. “Would you like me to leave?” he asked against his better judgment, knowing that he would come close to shattering if she were to order him away.

  For a moment, Christina remained quiet; yet her gaze watched his approach with something more than interest. “I would like to know what you’re doing in my chamber,” she finally said when no more than an arm’s length separated them. “Why are you here?”