by Stacy Reid
“My dear,” her mother said with a worried frown. “Are you well? You seem rather flushed.”
“I…we…we were caught in the rain.”
“How selfish of me! The rain started only a few minutes after your outing.”
“No, Mama,” Callie said, gripping her hands. “You are not selfish at all. I am so delighted for you.”
Her mother hugged her and whispered, “Thank you for all your naughty mischief. We needed that nudge.”
Over her mother’s shoulder, she spied Graham, watching them with an unfathomable expression in his gaze. Then without another word, he turned and left the room. Callie reflected that with his departure, he took all the earlier hope she had felt and left behind the awful disquiet.
Graham rode along the lanes of Holliwell Manor, inhaling the cold crisp air into his lungs. He’d had a most restless night, and hoped an invigorating run would clear his thoughts. It was damned difficult to do when he felt like he did not understand the past day. His father was getting married to the viscountess. He was happy for his father and Graham saw that the attachment between the pair was genuine. The manner in which the viscountess stared at his father had been quite revealing and it had laid the doubts in his heart to rest.
The sound of hooves thundered close, and he shifted in his saddle to watch the approach of his father. Graham waited until he stopped beside him before urging his horse into a trot. His father kept his slow, steady pace until they entered deeper into the park woodlands.
“In a few hours I will be married,” his father began gruffly.
“I know,” Graham said quietly. “I am truly happy for you father.”
He cleared his throat before turning his horse so that he faced his son directly.
Graham arched a brow. “What is it?”
“Whatever you are thinking in relation to Callisto cannot happen.”
It felt like a shard of ice pierced his gut. “You do not know my thoughts in regard to her father.”
“I saw enough of the need in your face when you stared at her last night!” His father’s face grew thunderous. “I saw lust! For your sister. It is unseemly that you would look at Callie in such a lustful manner. I observed you last night, and you will treat her as your sister at all times.”
Graham’s hand tightened on the reins and anger scythed through his heart. “She is not my damn sister! And I am certain you saw more than desire, father, because I feel much more for her than mere lust.”
His father stiffened. “By God, you’ve already ruined her.”
Graham felt the tip of his ears heating and scowled. “She…she is not ruined.”
“The hours in the cabin,” his father said through gritted teeth. “Whatever happened will never occur again. I will have your word as my son and a gentleman.”
He stared at his father, a heavy boulder settling against his chest. “And if I cannot give you my word to stay away from her?”
“Then I will cancel the wedding with Viscountess Danby, and you can go and pursue her daughter.”
Graham scrubbed a hand over his face. “Father, this is ridiculous—”
“The scandal of the father marrying the wife and the son dallying with his stepsister is not something to dismiss lightly,” his father said, his eyes hard and unforgiving. “Do you love her?”
The words slammed into Graham and robbed him of speech. Did he love her? He had no idea if this all-consuming desire he possessed for Callie was love. Was this love? This burning need to cherish, protect, and make love her always. “Father, I—”
“That is what I thought,” his father said tightly. “You will claim her as your sister and nothing else. If that is a problem for you my son, you will keep your distance until you have learned to govern your damn self!”
Anger snapped through his veins, for he had been certain in the long and lonely night in his room, that he wanted her with every breath in his body. He was falling for her…possibly in love with her.
“By God, she is not my sister,” he said with raw intensity. “And I will never see her in such a manner, and it is ridiculous to expect it of me.”
“What are you saying?” his father demanded, fisting his hands at his side.
“I want her…” Graham whispered. “Father…I want her more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life.”
His father’s eyes darkened with pain and ire. “Well, you cannot have her. It is wrong that you would even think it. I am to marry her mother in a few hours. You will become siblings through marriage. Can you imagine the scandal such a thing would cause? Everyone would repudiate such connections. The father marrying the mother and the son marrying the daughter of the mother. It will be seen as incestuous!”
“Do not be a damn fool!” Graham snapped, even though he detected a kernel of truth in his father’s assessment. “Since when did you give a damn about what Society thinks?”
“There are many other women you can take as your mistress—”
“I do not mean to use her,” Graham replied, raking his fingers through his hair. “Do you think so low of my character, that I would dishonor her in such a crude manner? I want to court her…eventually, marry her.”
His father was silent for a long time, then he said, “I will never consent to it.”
“I do not need your approval.”
Anger flushed along his father’s cheekbones. “You’ve only been aware of her for several damnable days. You cannot be certain of your feelings, and I am certain whatever they are, they will fade. There will be no scandal, nor will I cause Amelia any discomfort! And I am also fairly certain Miss Callie is indifferent to you! By God, I am happy…Amelia is happy, a state neither of us has been in years. I will not have you marring that joy for either of us with scandal or speculation! I’ll have her mother ship that girl away if that is what it will take.”
Then he turned around and rode away in self-righteous fury, leaving Graham feeling hollowed and empty.
Chapter 11
The Holliwell Manor Chapel had been constructed by an earlier ancestor during King Charles II’s reign. Built on the edge of the estate, it had served the village until they had built a new and larger church in the last century. Now its use was scant; although the local vicar held an occasional service there during the year. Most of those services were to commemorate former members of the Wynter family who had gone to their eternal rest.
It was a small stone building with narrow windows, and despite the staff’s best efforts to warm the interior, it was still chilly when the house party guests drove down to the chapel to observe the nuptials of Robert Wynter, Earl of Deerwood who would marry Amelia Middleton, Viscountess of Danby. The Manor’s staff had been busy decorating the interior with greenery and hothouse flowers while trying to drive out the seeping cold within the old building. The chapel already was half full as the news of the earl’s sudden wedding had spread through the local village, so most of his tenants and neighbors with their families had appeared uninvited to share in their lord’s joy.
Yet he was not joyful. For conflicting emotions tore through Graham.
The memory of the fight he had with his father a couple hours ago had his heart icing over.
Do I love you, Callie?
Her laugh made him happy, just seeing her filled his heart with joy. And the memory of the way she had taken him into her body had him biting back a groan. She was the most incredible lover he’d ever had, but it was more than that. Graham wanted to fulfill every need and hunger he had spied in her eyes as they had talked in the cabin. He wanted to lay all her dreams at her feet and provide his shoulders to rest upon whenever she needed them.
He had never been a man given to flights of fancy or over-sentimentality, and that was how he had known the feelings rushing through his heart and tormenting his mind were the deepest of tendre.
Graham glanced at his father. He was already waiting by the altar, walking up and down agitated and trying not to fiddle with the neat arrangement of his
cravat. The earl had worn a golden silk waistcoat with a pale gray suit of clothes for his special day. He looked dashing despite his impatience for his bride to arrive.
Despite their argument, Graham had agreed to be his best man, so he waited with him, somewhat amused by his father’s nerves. They had greeted the tenants and neighbors who had appeared at the church and shaken many hands. The chapel was far enough from the house in this inclement weather to necessitate them driving along the lanes in a stream of carriages, which had deposited them at the chapel door before parking as best they could. For the coachmen, it would be a cold wait.
Among the guests, there were undercurrents of excitement, surprise, and some chagrin by Miss Penelope Barrows over the unexpected marriage of so sought-after a groom. They were still gossiping together as they filed into the chapel to find their seats. As the last guest seated, a hush settled over the small gathering as they waited for the bride. They were listening for one last carriage to appear, and then in the distance, they heard the clip-clop of the earl’s high-stepping matched grays, as he had decided his best team should honor the bride on their wedding day.
The carriage pulled up outside the old ivy-clad chapel, and a footman raced to let the step down. The three bridesmaids gracefully descended, all dressed in white, although their dresses did not match; they had chosen to be warmly wrapped in festive shawls of scarlet, crimson, and green. His sister, Emma, who would become their stepsister had joined Callie and Letty.
Christ. As he would become their stepbrother.
Graham did his best not to stare at Callie’s loveliness. This morning she wore a low-cut white gown, with her hair caught in a loose chignon. She met his eyes, and her cheeks blushed apple red. Then she hurriedly looked away. He tore his gaze from her and concentrated on the carriage, hating the heaviness forming in his heart.
They waited while the bride was handed out. Lady Danby wore a pale blue gown she had covered with her dark gray cloak to travel the scant distance to the chapel. She shrugged off its warmth to enter the church, and Callie handed it to the footman. Sometime overnight they had located a long cream veil in priceless Chantilly lace upon which was set a small diamond tiara, which was part of the Wynter family jewels. Bouquets of ivy and white roses had been made, and each of the girls carried a smaller version of the one the viscountess carried herself. The bride had chosen not to be given away as she was a widow, an orphan, and of age. So she would walk down the short aisle alone, followed by her daughters and soon to be stepdaughter.
The chapel was not provided with an organ or piano to accompany the congregation, but a string quartet who had been employed for the house party entertainment had been installed in the choir stalls and struck up a pretty piece of music by Purcell for Lady Danby to process to.
Evidently trying to ease her nerves, she waited until the first phrases had floated through the chapel, and then she plant a joyful smile on her face. As the sweet music floated through her, she relaxed, and the smile became genuine. She straightened her back and set a dignified slow march down the aisle, followed by the three lovely girls in white. When she reached the front of the chapel, she handed her bouquet to Callie and smiled at her groom. The bridesmaids took the seats reserved for them and waited while their parents were led in their vows.
Throughout the ceremony, Graham only had eyes for Callie, and she did her best to not look in his direction. Was she genuinely indifferent to him, and yesterday in the cottage had simply been a once only experience for her?
The idea that she might feel nothing for him gnawed at his gut. The rest of the ceremony and wedding breakfast passed in a blur.
“I’ve always wanted a Christmas wedding,” he heard the new countess say at one point. “But I thought that delight would be reserved for one of my daughters.”
“Oh Mama,” Callie said, laughing. “I am glad it was you! I am certain I will remain a spinster.”
“Oh, pish! That lovely Dr. Harcourt couldn’t stop staring at you today. I daresay he will come calling soon.”
As if caressed by his stare, Callie glanced up at him. She didn’t reject her mother’s claim; she only stared back at him. When the countess saw him, she beamed. “Here comes your new brother!”
Sweet Christ, it was torturous. He wanted to roar he was not her bloody brother but gravely kept his lips sealed. The cravat seemed to tighten around his throat when a mocking smile tipped Callisto’s lips, and she greeted,
“Hello, Brother.”
Ice filled his veins as he glanced at her with utter disbelief. “Ah…sister Callisto,” he quipped.
Graham wasn’t sure what she saw in his face, but the sarcastic smile slipped from her mouth, and she laced her fingers together.
“We must make the best of the situation,” she said with quiet emphasis, casting a careful glance at her mother, to ensure the countess did not overhear. But she was busy receiving congratulations from her guests. “Our parents are very happy.”
“And what does their happiness have to do with us?”
She peered up at him and he could see the wild fluttering of her pulse at her throat. “Will there be an us?”
Instead of paying attention to his new bride, his father was busy staring at them and looking worried. His countess frowned and leaned in close to whisper in his ears. That still did not detract the earl’s attention from his son and new daughter.
Callie seemed to notice and flushed in evident discomfort. “Your father…he cannot stop watching us.”
And in that moment Graham knew he could not stay for the rest of the house party. He sketched a deep bow to Callisto. “I suppose we must make the best of the situation. I am leaving Holliwell Manor today.”
Her eyes widened, and she reached out and gripped his gloved hand. “What…why?”
When she realized what she had done, she released him as if seared by fire.
“My father has warned me away from you. In fact, he is truly angry at the idea that we might like each other.”
“He is afraid of what society might whisper,” she said, closing her eyes briefly.
His heart was a pained ache inside his chest. “I need your promise on a matter.”
Tears pooled in her gaze, but they did not spill over. “What is it?”
“If there are any consequences to yesterday…you will inform me immediately.”
Her lips parted and fear, stark and vivid, glittered in her eyes. “Consequences,” she whispered. “Do you mean a…a child?”
His gaze dipped to her stomach and lingered there for an inordinate amount of time. “Yes,” he grumbled. He had lost his head and hadn’t thought about protecting her until after they had finished making love. “A child.”
She rested a hand protectively across her middle. “And if there are?”
“Then we will marry and damn the scandal.”
Pain darkened her eyes, and she stared at him. “I…I see.”
When she said no more, he sketched another bow and walked away, confident she should reach out to him if needed. He wished his father and new mother well, before calling for his horse and made his way from the swell of happiness behind him.
Graham rode away, hating the piercing pain that flamed through him. How it had all shot to hell so quickly, his muddled brain still had to figure out. It is for the best, he tried to tell himself. Except he felt as if he were riding away from the best thing that ever happened to him, instead of hurtling toward Callisto with his heart and arms wide open.
Chapter 12
Christmas day
It was mid-afternoon, and the day was filled with laughter, and a sense of hope and expectation blanketed the air. Over the night, there had been snow, and a pristine white blanketed the grass and dotted the trees and shrubs of the estate. It was such a beautiful scene that Callie’s heart was saddened she could not share it with Graham. It had been all she could do to attend the Parish Church the night before for midnight mass with her family, she had gone through the motions although
it had taken every bit of determination she had. Now where she stood on the path beside the lake, Callie fancied she could smell the sumptuous feast the servants were busy and joyfully preparing in the kitchens, although she was not looking forward to another meal pretending to be happy so she did not wear her heart on her sleeve.
A flake caressed her cheek, she glanced to the sky which had darkened even further, the chill in the air had her hugging her coat closer. Despite the festivities Callie was bereft of joy. Graham had departed Holliwell Manor over a week ago now, and to Callie’s enduring distress each night, she cried herself to sleep. She hadn’t realized the consequences attached to her reckless bid to taste passion, and worse the viscount seemed only willing to marry her if she was with child. The wintry weather reflected the desolation in her heart, everything around her mirrored the merry season but she was so miserable and alone.
Though she desired him with every breath in her body, she did not want him in that manner, where he would be forced to do the honorable thing for the sake of her reputation and their child. Once again, her breath hitched and a deep yearning scythed through her chest. A child…a husband…a family of her own.
How badly she wanted it all! But that other longing to marry a man whom she loved and one who adored her just as ardently would not be a part of that bargain. How cold and indifferent Graham had appeared, and she could only blame herself for being silly to have such expectations in her heart.
They did not know each other! Perhaps the passion they had shared had been an everyday occurrence for him. And he did not appreciate the laughter they had enjoyed, for he had just been toying with her affections to pass the time. Could it be the tender way he had looked at her was in her imagination or a cynical act to allow him to bed her. Maybe she had irrevocably lost all sense of herself when she gifted him her body. And she had imagined the hunger in his eyes when he had stared at her stomach as if picturing she was already with child.
