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

by Bree Wolf

  Wesley shook his head. What was he to say? Never had he thought of himself as one to fall head over heels in love with a woman he hardly knew, and when it finally had happened, he had done his best to ignore her, banish her from his thoughts and more importantly from his heart. But what good had it done him?

  The second their paths had crossed once more, he had lost his heart to her all over again.

  And as though fortune had a cruel sense of irony, she had refused him. However, he couldn’t very well confess such a thing to Stanhope, could he?

  “Does her heart belong to another?” his friend asked when Wesley remained quiet, still contemplating how best to evade these continued questions.

  Dear God, I hope not!

  Gritting his teeth, Wesley forced air into his lungs, willing his heart to slow to a more moderate pace. “Not as far as I know,” he finally admitted, hoping that what he said was true. After all, she had never spoken of love. She had only ever…invited him into her bed. Did she even care for him? Or was he simply an opportunity to test her newest theory?

  As Wesley continued to stare out the window, his friend shook his head, then placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I may not be the most reliable judge in these matters,” he said, “but I do believe that she cares for you.” Then he stepped back and walked away.

  Squaring his shoulders, Wesley felt his hands begin to tremble as his heart danced in his chest, and he had to fight the glowing smile that lifted the corners of his mouth. Stanhope was a man of principle and truthfulness. Not unlike Wesley himself, he knew very little about matters of the heart and had in all likelihood misinterpreted Christine’s behaviour. After all, considering the frank and open way she had always spoken to him, she had not once said anything about love.

  Did you? A little voice whispered, but Wesley instantly shushed it.

  “Oh!”

  That soft, slightly breathless exclamation jolted Wesley from his thoughts, and he spun around to find the woman he…Christine standing just inside the door. One hand on the handle, she seemed to hesitate as her eyes searched his face, a hint of a rosy blush colouring her cheeks.

  It only took Wesley one moment to realise that something was different.

  Gone was the self-assured and daring woman, who had never flinched under anyone’s gaze, who had never dropped her eyes in embarrassment or refrained from speaking whatever was on her mind.

  The woman who now stood across from him seemed a mere shadow of the lady who had stolen his heart. Her eyes barely met his, and she gnawed on her lower lip, a nervous tremble in her hands. “I should leave,” she whispered as though she were a debutante afraid of the repercussions of being discovered in a man’s presence without a chaperone.

  Wesley snorted at the thought, and her head snapped up, her eyes meeting his. “Do you suddenly fear for your reputation?” he asked, strolling toward her, his gaze trained on her face, curiously watching her reaction.

  A familiar smile lit up her face, and a hint of mischief came to her eyes as she firmly closed the door behind her. “Not at all,” Christine said, her gaze resting on his as he moved toward her. “I merely thought to spare our hostess the shock should she happen to come upon us. The poor lady is quite distraught with our presence in her home.”

  “How very considerate of you,” Wesley mocked as he breathed in the intoxicating scent of her. His head spun, and his hands itched to reach for her as his eyes travelled from hers down to her lips.

  A knowing smile curled up her mouth. “But kind sir, I was under the impression that your interest in me was of a purely platonic nature.”

  Wesley snorted. “What gave you that idea? After all, was it not I who asked for your hand in marriage?”

  At his words, Christine sobered and her eyes became serious. “It was, yes,” she confirmed, inhaling deeply as she held his gaze. “However, you were also the one who…refused to…” She swallowed before an embarrassed smile came to her face and she bit her lower lip. “You are correct. I do have trouble saying it out loud.”

  Wesley smiled, delighted with her honesty. “Have you changed your mind?” he asked, stepping closer so that she had to tilt up her head to hold his gaze.

  “About your proposal?” she asked, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “Or mine?”

  Wesley gritted his teeth as his hands settled on her waist. “Mine,” he almost growled out, and his arms closed around her possessively.

  Trembling, she drew in a sharp breath. Her eyes, however, rested steadily on his. “I have not,” she whispered.

  His eyes narrowed as his pulse hammered in his veins. “And yours?” he snapped.

  Holding his gaze, she shook her head. “I know what I want,” she said, a challenge in her tone. “Do you?”

  In that moment as he held her in his arms, Wesley couldn’t quite recall the reasons for his refusal. He knew exactly what he wanted, and as though of its own volition, his head lowered itself down to hers, his eyes fixed on her lips.

  And yet, a quiet voice whispered that that was not all he wanted.

  Stopping a hair’s breadth from her lips, he looked up into her eyes. “Is it truly of no importance to you whether I care for you or not?” he asked. “Do you not object to a man who only desires your body but does not care the slightest bit for who you are?”

  Pressing her lips together, Christine held his gaze, a hint of annoyance in her eyes. “Why do you judge me for something that you’ve done yourself?”

  Swallowing, Wesley stepped back. “I do not judge you.”

  “You do not?” she mocked, shaking her head. “Then you have exchanged words of love with every woman who has given herself to you?”

  “Of course not,” Wesley snapped, annoyed with her tendency to generalise their relationship. “That was different. You’re−”

  “Different?” Christine mocked. “Of course, it is always different for men. A woman has to guard her innocence like a precious good while men boast of the number or their conquests.” Shaking her head, she eyed him curiously. “I never thought you were one of those who−”

  “I am not,” Wesley insisted. His eyes hard, he glared at her, forcing himself to remain calm. How could he make her understand that he did not care the slightest bit what men and women in general did? That he only cared about what she did? About what she felt?

  He took a deep breath. “I don’t just want to be any man you invite into your bed,” he forced out through gritted teeth. “I want…I…”

  “What?”

  Before he could say another word, a knock sounded on the other side of the door, and they both froze. “Christine, are you in there?” came Eleanor’s voice. “A letter was just delivered for you.”

  Chapter Ten − A Wife's Return

  As the footmen loaded their luggage onto the carriage, Christine stood on the stoop hugging Eleanor. Over the past week, she had grown quite fond of the young woman and desperately wished there was something she could do to help. However, one look at Lady Stanhope’s stony face told her that such a wish was futile.

  “I wish you could stay,” Eleanor cried, brushing away a single tear. “It’s been so wonderful,” she glanced at her mother, “talking to you.”

  Christine smiled. “Write to me.”

  Eleanor nodded vehemently.

  “And we shall see each other at the Christmas Ball,” Christine reminded her before she hugged Eleanor once more and whispered in her ear. “I shall do what I can to ensure that you receive the kiss you hope for.”

  Pulling back, Eleanor met her eyes, and a soft smile spread over her face. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have a sister to confide in. Now, I know.”

  With a heavy heart, Christine bid Eleanor goodbye and took her seat in the carriage. A moment later, Wesley joined her, and before long, they were on their way back to Harrington Park.

  “What did the letter say?” Wesley asked when Stanhope Grove had disappeared from view.

/>   Turning her head from the window, Christine met his gaze. “She asked us to return.”

  Wesley sighed. “Yes, you said so,” he mumbled, a hint of exasperation in his voice, “but why? Did she not give a reason?”

  Christine swallowed, seeing the tension on his face. Holding her gaze, he sat across from her with his body rigid and his muscles clenched, and she had no trouble reading the worry in his blue eyes. “Apparently,” she cleared her throat, “William asked for my return.”

  Wesley’s eyes flew open. “He did? What does that mean? Do you think it did not work?”

  Christine shrugged as a cold chill crawled down her back. “I have no way of knowing that,” she said, her voice almost inaudible. “I can only hope that there is another explanation.”

  Wesley snorted, a hint of annoyance coming to his face.

  Glaring at him, Christine crossed her arms. “Are you saying this is my fault?”

  “I didn’t say anything!”

  “You might as well have,” she snapped. “After all, you believed my idea to be ludicrous from the start.”

  Leaning forward, Wesley met her eyes. “I did, yes, but that doesn’t mean I wanted it to fail. He is my brother. I want him to be happy, and I’ve never seen him as happy as when he was with Catherine.”

  Dropping her gaze, Christine nodded. “Neither have I.” She turned her eyes to the window then, watching the white landscape pass by. “I truly want them to be that happy again, and yet, …”

  “And yet?” Wesley pressed, his voice laced with tension.

  Meeting his gaze once more, Christine sighed. “And yet, a part of me cannot help but think that love is like a worm on a fishing hook.” Clearly confused, Wesley’s brows rose into arches. “What I mean is that it is meant to lure you in, and once you are, you’re pulled from the water and have your heart torn out.”

  Wesley snorted.

  “What? Do you think this is funny?” she demanded, feeling her own resolve strengthened at the misery around her. She would truly be a fool to give away her heart!

  “Your metaphor is a bit harsh, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Rolling her eyes, Christine shrugged. “Harsh or not, it is accurate.”

  “Do you truly believe that?” Wesley asked, his brows drawn down as though he could not believe what he’d heard.

  Leaning back in her seat, Christine sighed. “I know that love can be beautiful. It’s dazzling smiles and hidden looks, thudding hearts and passionate kisses. But,” leaning forward, her voice hardened, and she raised her index finger, “that is only one of two faces. What about the other? Why do people constantly choose to ignore the ugly side of love?” Shaking her head, Christine snorted. “It is everywhere.” Holding up one finger, she said, “Although they were happy once, now it looks as though William and Catherine have lost everything that’s ever meant anything to them.” Another finger came up. “The day I received your letter about William’s accident, my friend Marianne told me that she believed her husband to be unfaithful. You should have seen the pain of dashed hopes in her eyes.” Yet another finger rose. “And now, Eleanor is beside herself with misery because the man she loves has been deemed unsuitable by her mother and there is no future for them.”

  “Eleanor’s in love?”

  Christine’s eyes went wide, and she clasped a hand over her mouth. “Bloody hell!” she cursed. “Why did you make me say that? I promised her not to breathe a word of this!”

  Grinning, Wesley shook his head. “I didn’t make you say anything, my dear. You−”

  “My dear? I’m not your−”

  “You were caught in a tirade of hatred,” his eyebrows rose, and a crinkle came to his lips, “on the subject of love no less, which, I suppose, makes it ironic.” Shaking his head, he met her gaze. “Do you want to know what I think?”

  Christine’s eyes narrowed. “Not particularly, considering that your opinion of me is never very flattering.”

  Wesley laughed. “Although we are alike in many ways−”

  “We are?” Christine asked, crinkling her nose.

  “Would you let me finish?”

  “Fine.” Gesturing for him to continue, Christine leaned back and tried her best to calm her thudding heart. This man was truly insufferable! What was she thinking fancying herself in love? Before their first year of marriage was out, they would kill each other.

  “Although we are alike in many ways,” Wesley continued, the corners of his mouth still drawn up in amusement, “we differ in one particular aspect.”

  “Which is?”

  “Although I might not always admit it, I generally hope for the best,” he said, holding her gaze. “I believe that things will work themselves out, and even if they don’t, then happiness will come another way. You do the opposite.”

  Christine frowned. “What? Are you saying I hope for the worst? That doesn’t make any sense!”

  “I’m not saying you hope for the worst but you expect it.” Leaning forward, he looked deep into her eyes. “You only see the risks, the dangers, the losses and the sadness. They carry more weight for you because in your opinion happiness is generally short-lived. It is only a matter of time before good will turn to bad, and you believe that if you ignore the good, then the bad will hurt less. Isn’t that so?”

  Christine took a slow breath as she stared into his blue eyes, so clear, and yet, so intense as she had never seen them. For once, his face was serious without the usual mischief that lurked somewhere in his eyes or in the curl of his lips. For once, she didn’t feel as though he was teasing her.

  Wesley swallowed. “Why is it that you’re so dead set against marriage? Is it truly because you cannot guarantee how you’ll feel in the years to come? Or because you’re afraid of the pain it might bring?” Reaching out, he gently took her hand in his as his eyes continued to hold hers captive. “Hopes and wishes can be dashed even without a promise given,” he warned, and a tinge of sadness clung to his voice that made her look at him with different eyes. “Should you find a man, who agrees to your…proposal,” taking a deep breath, he swallowed before his teeth gritted together, “then what will protect you from losing your heart to him?” He shook his head. “Nothing will, and you will suffer the same or even worse for he will not feel responsible for your happiness because he never vowed to guard it as though it were his own.”

  “I have no intention of giving my heart to anyone,” Christine whispered, her chilled hand warming in his gentle embrace.

  Wesley laughed. “Only that is not your choice to make,” he counselled. Then he took a deep breath, and a slight tremble shook his hands. “After all, I never intended to lose mine to you.”

  Her breath caught in her throat, and she found herself staring at him blatantly.

  “It simply happened,” he admitted, and a sheepish look came to his eyes that stole the breath from her lungs once more.

  Never had Christine thought Wesley Everett to be a man who would declare his love to a woman who had made it clear that she had no intention of becoming his wife. After all, despite his slightly annoying sense of humour, he had always seemed like a reasonable man. And a reasonable man surely wouldn’t…

  And yet, he had. Hadn’t he? Had he truly just told her that he loved her? Still staring at him, Christine tried to recall the words he had spoken. Had she misunderstood him?

  “I just wanted you to know that,” he whispered before releasing her hand. “I wanted you to know that the decisions you make will not only affect your own happiness,” sitting back, he swallowed, “but mine as well.”

  As silence filled the carriage, Christine found herself frozen in place as though his words had turned her to stone. Her heart and mind felt numb, and it took every bit of strength she had left to force air down into her lungs.

  What was happening? And more importantly, what was she to do now?

  The remainder of the carriage ride back to Harrington Park passed in silence. However, as the horses turned down a familiar lane
, Wesley turned to her and voiced his hopes that they would find William’s eyes once more lit with the spark of love. He spoke lightly, and his face held none of the intense emotions Christine had seen there before. Had she only imagined them? Had he truly spoken to her of love?

  Looking at him now, she could not help but doubt her own memories.

  With her head held high, Christine did her best to ignore the tantalising tingles that swept through her as he helped her out of the carriage and up the front steps. They stepped into the foyer, ears listening, eyes searching their surroundings.

  After welcoming them back, the butler gestured toward the front parlour, through which the occasional discordant note could be heard. Exchanging a strained, but still hopeful glance with her, Wesley strode forward to greet William and Catherine.

  Staying back, Christine reminded herself of the role she had to play and carefully observed the colour draining from William’s face as he jumped to his feet. Catherine, too, seemed flustered, and Christine felt her own heart rejoice at the sight of such obvious emotions.

  Then William came toward her, his eyes meeting hers reluctantly as he bowed rather formally. “Welcome back,” he said, a forced loudness to his voice that betrayed how uncomfortable he felt.

  “Thank you,” Christine whispered, then carefully raised her eyes to his. “I was rather hopeful when I received my sister’s letter.” Although the corners of her lips strained upward, Christine merely allowed a hint of a delighted smile. “Your request for my return led me to believe that there is still a future for us.”

  At her words, his mouth fell slightly open, and the tortured expression that came to his face told Christine everything she needed to know.

  As the dark clouds that her sister’s letter had conjured disappeared, Christine found herself determined to enjoy the time they had together. Always expecting the worst? Puh! She would show him!

  Over supper, she chatted with her sister as well as Wesley, who would occasionally look at her with a warning in his eyes. However, reminded of the Christmas Ball that was to take place soon, she voiced her delight with the Christmas season in general as well as its enjoyments undeterred. Unable to contain her delight with her sister’s situation−what did Wesley think of her ludicrous plan now?−Christine noticed William’s confused glances with a hint of guilt. Still, she was unable to contain herself.