A Forbidden Love Novella Series Box Set One: Four Novellas in One Book

by Bree Wolf

  Reaching up, her hands closed around his neck as she strained against him. While she revelled in the feeling of loving and being loved that she had thought lost forever, a part of her still couldn’t believe what was happening.

  He was kissing her! Did that mean he remembered? Did he remember her? Did he remember that she was his wife and not her sister? Did he remember their life together? Did he remember that he loved her?

  Did he love her?

  Once again, it all came down to one simple question. Its answer, however, was far from simple. And although Catherine’s heart ached to know the truth, she could not bring herself to stop and ask for it. Fear held her back…as well as a flame of desire burning deep within her, a flame that she feared would never be nourished again.

  In the very moment Catherine threw caution to the wind and decided to live in the here and now, her husband froze. His lips stilled, and his hands ceased their gentle caresses. Then his eyes flew open, and he took a step back, eyes wide, staring at her.

  Seeing the answers to her questions so plainly on his face, Catherine felt her hopes crushed to dust and her heart sobbed with such intensity that she feared she would break. Tears, however, wouldn’t come, and so she cleared her throat and took a deep breath.

  As though startled out of his trance by such a simple gesture, her husband blinked, then shook his head before his hands flew up and he rubbed them over his face. Again, he stared at her, thinking she was an apparition.

  And again, Catherine stood her ground under his painful gaze, meeting his eyes openly.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered then, his voice hoarse, strained from the emotions that coursed over his face.

  Catherine sighed for although she could see desire and longing in his eyes, had felt them a moment before in the way he had held her, there was also guilt and confusion and regret written all over his face. He did not remember her. He did not remember that he had not just kissed his sister-in-law, but his wife instead. He did not remember that he had every right to desire her. But did he love her?

  Never before had Catherine realised how easily one emotion could be mistaken for another, especially when one was searching for it, and the doubts in her heart made it impossible for her to tell him the truth.

  Not until she knew.

  Taking another step back, William was still staring at her. Then he whispered another apology, gritted his teeth against the pain that gripped his heart before he brushed past her and without another look vanished through the door.

  Leaning back against the wall, Catherine sighed, a part of her urging her to confess the charade they had been playing, and yet, the emotions that swelled in her chest felt all too familiar to be ignored. Of course, the situation was far from ideal, but it reminded her of how they had first fallen in love. It had been swift, in the course of a single evening, and yet, Catherine remembered the intense rush of emotions, the wonderment at his reaction, the question of whether or not he felt the same. It all came rushing back and brought a soft smile to her face. Maybe he didn’t need to remember her and their love. Maybe he could simply fall in love with her again. Maybe she just needed to give him more time.

  Maybe.

  Chapter Eleven − The Christmas Ball

  The memory of the kiss he'd shared with Christine in the kitchen had burnt itself into his mind, and no matter where he was or what he did, William couldn’t shake it. It tortured him day and night for it not only reminded him of the soft touch of her lips or the feel of her body pressed to his, but also caused his heart to twist in anguish at the hopelessness of the situation.

  When Christine came upon him in the parlour the next day, he almost flinched and could not meet her eyes.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, her voice gentle and not sharp with accusation.

  William breathed a sigh of relief. However, when he did meet her eyes, he saw in them the memory of that night, and his heart felt as though torn in two. An image of Prometheus rose before his eyes, shackled to the rocks, an eagle picking at his liver. Trapped in a life that felt like a prison, William was torn between desire and duty for they did not walk hand in hand and never would. His insides ached, and he almost ran from the room. But even if he had, there was no escape from his emotions, just like Prometheus had never escaped his shackles.

  Meeting her enquiring gaze, he cleared his throat, hands linked behind his back. “Once again, I feel the need to apologise. I ought not to have taken such liberties with you. It is inexcusable.”

  A soft smile curled up her lips, and he could see no anger in her eyes. “Please, do not apologise. It was not only your doing. Mine as well.”

  William swallowed as longing to feel her in his arms seized him once more. Balling his hands into fists, he stepped back and his jaw tensed with the effort it took. “Still, I ought to have shown more restraint.” And before she could reply, he bowed to her formally and walked away.

  The next few days, William found himself once more avoiding the others’ company. He was afraid of what he might do should he come upon Christine alone, and he cringed at the thought of meeting his wife’s eyes after the way he had betrayed her.

  And so the days passed in idle frustration until the day of the Christmas Ball finally arrived.

  All morning, his wife bustled about the house, tending to last minute preparations. From her excitement, he would have thought that Harrington Park would be hosting the ball. However, William was grateful for the distraction for it kept her from seeking his company.

  In the afternoon, his wife ushered them all upstairs to their respective chambers where she had laid out their evening wear. William cringed at the thought of spending the night dancing with his wife as well as his sister-in-law in front of the watchful eyes of his neighbours. It made him feel ill. If William had had any say in the matter, he would have stayed home. However, he felt certain that his wife would never allow it.

  Dressed in his finest, William finally descended the stairs to the entry hall and found his wife standing with his brother, their faces smiling as they chatted animatedly. While his brother wore almost identical clothes to the ones he had donned, his wife shone in a carmine red gown that accentuated her smoky green eyes−eyes that were so much like her sister’s.

  Once again, William thought he ought to feel at least a hint of jealousy and not instead long for another woman. His accident had truly turned the world upside down! Or rather him, for the world had not changed, had it?

  With radiant smiles on their faces, his wife and brother turned to him.

  “You look very handsome,” Catherine complimented him. “I shall be the envy of every woman, walking into the ballroom on your arm.”

  Rolling his eyes, Wesley snorted, and Catherine slapped him with her fan. Instantly, his brother sobered, a hint of embarrassment on his face as he cleared his throat, then abruptly turned to the staircase. “Ah, Christine, you truly look stunningly beautiful tonight.”

  As his wife harrumphed under her breath, William felt an almost magnetic pull to turn around.

  The moment his eyes fell on Christine as she gracefully descended the stairs, the fir green gown bringing out her eyes not in a glamorous but harmonious way, his heart sped up and his palms became sweaty. Gritting his teeth, he closed his eyes. Tonight would end in a disaster! He had never felt more certain of anything in his life!

  Wesley held out his hand to Christine and when she stepped off the landing, he pulled her arm through his. Instantly, William’s hands balled into fists, and he had to suppress the urge to elbow his brother out of the way and take his place as Christine’s escort.

  “Here are the masks,” his wife chirped happily, holding four elaborately decorated masks in her hands that had been designed to match their evening wear. Two of them were identical as it was tradition that husband and wife be recognised as such. The Earl of Hampton had married his wife for love over a decade ago, and as far as William remembered, they were still as much in love today as they had been th
en. In a strange way, that thought made him feel guilty for had not everyone told him that just such a love existed between him and Catherine?

  Handing out a mask to Wesley as well as Christine, his wife stepped toward him, holding out the slightly larger one of the two remaining identical masks. Reluctantly, William took it and with a forced smile on his lips brought it to his face. Putting it on felt as though once more claiming Catherine as his wife, and his heart cried out in protest.

  The carriage ride to the earl’s estate was filled with idle chit-chat, mostly carried on by his wife as well as his brother. Due to her strong aversion to cold weather, his mother had decided to remain at home, which was nothing unusual−as far as he remembered. Occasionally, William would glance across at Christine, seated next to his brother, but she mostly kept her gaze focused out the window. Something strange hung about her, a sense of hopeful expectation.

  Once the carriage pulled to a stop in front of the large stoop of the earl’s estate, William gratefully left behind the uncomfortable confinement and stepped outside into the brisk night air. Holding out his hand to his wife, he waited for her to step down before leading her inside.

  The hall was decorated with dark green conifer branches, hung with golden bells and stars as well as red bows. Countless candles shone in every room, putting the night sky to shame with their brilliance, and sprigs of mistletoe hung everywhere. A roaring fire in each room filled the air with comfortable warmth, and delicious smells mingled and beckoned them forward.

  Looking around, William saw familiar faces everywhere, and he immediately felt himself relax. As strange as it was he had expected to walk into a foreign land where he knew he did not belong. However, similar to how he felt at home, William walked from room to room, greeting old acquaintances and friends. Here and there, he saw a new face but everything else felt so familiar that he did not mind at all.

  His wife smiled and laughed, her eyes shining with delight. William, however, felt drawn to search for her sister, and his heart skipped a beat when he spotted her by the refreshment table, accepting a glass of wine from his brother.

  “Shall we proceed to the dance floor?” his wife asked, eyeing the dancing couples with longing.

  Forcing a smile on his lips, William nodded. “Certainly.”

  As they proceeded down the hall, following the lively music into the ballroom, William glimpsed his old friend Charles Dashwood−or was it Robert?−dancing with a young woman, who, considering that she wore the same mask as him, had to be his wife. Her hair shone scarlet red in the candlelight, and she gazed up at him in a way that brought Christine’s face to mind. Shaking his head, William forced himself to focus.

  Laughing at something his wife had said, Charles looked up, and when his eyes met William’s, he nodded in greeting. Then he whispered to his wife, and on the next turn, she looked his way, a gentle smile on her face as she inclined her head to him.

  When the music stopped, Catherine was about to drag him onto the dance floor. However, before she could, his friend approached, a deep smile on his face. “It has been forever, has it not?” he beamed, then glanced to the woman by his side. “Allow me to introduce you to my wife, Lady Norwood.”

  William frowned, then glanced at his friend for apparently, Charles was not Charles at all, but his brother Robert instead. How could he have been so mistaken?

  Clearing his throat, William inclined his head to her. “It is a pleasure, my lady.” Then he turned to Catherine. “Allow me to introduce you to my…wife,” he said, his voice hitching slightly at the last word, “Lady Harrington.”

  “It’s a pleasure,” Lady Norwood said, a gentle smile on her face. “I’ve heard so much about you from my husband.”

  William frowned, after all he had never been particularly close with Robert. Looking up, he noticed that Robert looked slightly uncomfortable, but quickly cleared his throat and said, “My lady, you look even more radiant than you did at your wedding.”

  On his arm, Catherine tensed before a grateful smile came to her face. “You are too kind, my lord.” Then she glanced at the dance floor. “I do not mean to be rude,” she said, smiling at Lord Norwood and his wife, “but we are determined to dance the night away.”

  Lady Norwood laughed. “As are we.” Her eyes travelled upward to gaze at her husband, and his hand gently came down to close over hers resting on his arm.

  Watching them with a hint of envy in his heart, William wished with everything he was for the impossible. Could he and Catherine ever be like that…again?

  As they all stood up together for a country dance, William tried his best to concentrate on the steps, the lively music or his smiling wife. However, without any conscious thought on his part, his eyes began to drift around the room, looking for the one woman who could turn his world even more upside down than it already was with a single smile.

  Craning his neck, he spotted the Duke and Duchess of Kensington walking into the ballroom, their eyes shining through their masks as they gazed at each other. William remembered that their daughter Georgiana was probably of age by now. Had she already had a Season? He could not remember, which, of course, was not surprising.

  Through the throng of people standing here and there, laughing and chatting, William then caught a glimpse of his friend Charles−it was Charles this time, wasn’t it? He stood near the French doors that, at least, in summer led out onto the terrace, a tall raven-haired woman with olive skin by his side. Laughing, he whispered something in her ear, and she good-naturedly slapped him on the arm, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

  Was everyone in love these days? William wondered as a ball of envy twisted in his gut. Everyone but him?

  Well, technically, he was in love. However, not with…

  That thought so random, and yet, unexpected temporarily stunned him, and he almost forgot to move in time to the music.

  Deep down, he had known that he loved Christine, and yet, he had never admitted it to himself. Putting his emotions into words, though, felt utterly devastating. It gave it a ring of truth, of reality and of finality as well.

  He was in love with his wife’s sister.

  As though his thoughts had called her, William finally caught sight of her as she walked into the ballroom on his brother’s arm, and the sun rose on his world.

  In that moment, the last tune played, and the music stopped. Cheers erupted around him, and all heads turned to a young couple in the centre of the large dance floor. As a tinge of red rose to their cheeks−as far as they were visible under the masks−and they cast slightly embarrassed glances at their audience, said audience pointed to a small green twig dangling above their heads.

  A sprig of mistletoe.

  Quickly, the young couple exchanged a furtive kiss, which brought on even more cheers, and then hastened out of the ballroom, presumably to cool their cheeks.

  As a new tune echoed through the large hall, the dancers once again stood up; this time for a cotillion. Glancing past heads that blocked his view, William spotted Christine across from his brother, his hand gently holding hers as they began to dance in rhythm with the other couples.

  He barely had a glance for his wife as he almost craned his neck to not lose sight of the woman he loved. It was torture. He knew he ought not to, and yet, he could not bring himself to ignore her, not to see her, not to long for her.

  The dance passed as quickly as it had begun, and while William was still staring at his sister-in-law, he suddenly found her walking toward him on his brother’s arm. As their eyes met, William drew in a sharp breath and a gentle smile curled up her lips.

  “Will,” Wesley called out, his eyes shifting from him to his wife before his face split into a big grin, “I’ve come to trade.”

  Rolling her eyes, Catherine slapped him on the arm. “What a crude remark!” she growled, exasperation in her voice. “I certainly understand your mother’s relief that you’re not the first-born son.”

  Cringing, Wesley clutched a hand
to his chest. “You wound me, my lady.” Then he bowed to her. “May I have this dance, nonetheless?”

  “You may,” Catherine said graciously, taking his hand, “although you do not deserve it.” Casting a gentle smile at William, she walked away with his brother.

  “Would you rather get a refreshment?” Christine asked beside him, her smoky green eyes gazing up into his. “After all, you’ve spent more time on the dance floor than me.”

  Gazing back at her in wonderment, William shook his head. “Not at all.” Then he held out his hand to her, and the moment, Christine’s fingers touched his, the world around them fell away.

  All strain left his body, and his feet moved to the waltz without him even noticing. All he saw were her eyes, eyes that held his captive, their green depths hypnotising him in the most wonderful way. Her hand rested in his like a feather, so soft and gentle, that he felt a sudden urge to protect her.

  “Are you enjoying yourself?” she asked, her voice the most wonderful music to his ears. They had been separated for far too long, and yet, it had only been minutes, an hour maybe. He couldn’t tell.

  “I am now,” he answered honestly, shocked that he didn’t feel the least bit of shame at expressing his feelings so openly.

  A radiant smile came to her face that stole the breath from his lungs. “As am I,” she whispered as though it were a secret, which, of course, it was.

  As his heart thudded in his chest, William knew that this moment was his only chance to free himself of a secret that would drown him if he were forced to carry it alone. “Christine,” he whispered, pulling her closer, pretending that he only did so in order for her to hear him, “I need to confess something.”

  “Confess?” Her eyes opened wide in expectation, and she searched his face. “I hope it is nothing untoward.” Despite the seriousness of her words, her voice sounded hopeful, and she bit her lower lip, trying to hide a smile that drew up the corners of her mouth.