Once Upon an Irritatingly Magical Kiss by Bree Wolf

Chapter Twelve

Irritatingly Tempting

Thorne could not help but stare at Lady Christina as he used his boot to push closed the door behind him. She was beautiful; the early sun shone in through the window and sent golden sparks dancing across her silken tresses. Her eyes were wide and focused solely on him, and Thorne had to admit he quite liked it that way. A hint of nervousness lingered, and he could see the pulse at the base of her neck beating a little faster than he would have expected.

Then her gaze moved from him past his shoulder, and she crossed her arms over her chest in a bit of a chiding gesture. “For propriety’s sake, the door is supposed to remain open,” she instructed as one would an unruly child.

Thorne laughed and took a step into the room. “As you are well aware I am most ignorant of society’s rules. Care to instruct me?”

A smile teased her lips as she did her best to fight it down. “Your behavior is outrageous, Sir.”

He moved toward her. “Nevertheless, I cannot fail to notice that you are not insisting I open the door. Why is that?” He held her gaze, enjoying the way indecision sparked in her eyes. She regarded him carefully, curiously, quite the same way he was looking at her. After all, they were strangers, and yet they were to be married soon. There was much to learn about the other, much to know and discover.

“Why are you here?” Lady Christina asked instead of answering his question. Neither did she step toward the door in order to open it.

Thorne could not help but chuckle. “I came to speak to my future bride,” he teased, delighted to see a soft rosy shine come to her cheeks. Still, she held his gaze unflinchingly, a touch of anger lighting up those blue eyes of hers.

“You’ve come to tease me?” she remarked, giving him one of those haughty looks he had come to expect from her. Indeed, it seemed it was her way of teasing him.

“I have come to see if you’ve changed your mind,” he said lightly. Nevertheless, he felt a hint of tightness growing in his chest as he waited for her to answer.

She regarded him curiously and then took a step toward him, making a statement and showing him that he was not the one leading this conversation, that she was an equal participant. “Why would you think I changed my mind?”

Thorne shrugged. “Quite frankly, we both know why we find ourselves in this situation, do we not? Had we not been discovered, none of this would have happened.” He took note of the slight rise and fall of her chest as she inhaled a deep breath, the way her gaze did not fall from his but…perhaps wanted to? Did he make her nervous? “I willingly admit that I know very little about your social circle; however, I have heard that it is not uncommon that in order to save the family’s reputation, young women are often forced to accept proposals they would otherwise wish to refuse.” He held her gaze, daring her to speak her mind, to be truthful with him. He knew very well that she had not agreed to marry him out of affection. He was no fool! Nonetheless, he was selfish upon occasion. He had been selfish that night. The night before. He knew he wanted her, but selfishly, he also wanted her to want him back.

Of course, she did not.

Not right now.

Not yet.

But perhaps one day she would.

Only he was certain the path to her affections was found in open words. If he was to have any chance of proving her wrong, proving her impression of him wrong, then he needed to speak to her openly. She needed to know that he was not the kind of man Lord Hartmore was. The kind of man he had seen among the ton far too often. Men who dominated others through fear. Men who did as they wished with no regard for others. Was that not what had forced Miss Mortensen into this unbearable situation? Was it not precisely the accusation Lady Christina had placed at her friend’s father’s feet?

Selfishly, Thorne needed her to know that he was not such a man.

“My father would never force my hand,” Lady Christina insisted, her voice hard and determined, a whisper of outrage in the way she spoke. Clearly, he had offended her by suggesting that her father would go over her head and decide her future without consulting her. Indeed, Thorne had never believed it to be so, but it was good to know that Lord Whickerton was the kind of man Thorne had thought him to be.

A man he could respect.

“Perhaps there are other reasons?” he continued, allowing a wide grin to show upon his face as he sauntered closer. “In fact, you yourself have more than once described me as the worst sort of man.” He stopped an arm’s length in front of her, noting the way her eyes followed his every movement. “Why then would you agree to marry me?”

Her jaw hardened, and a fiery glare came to her eyes. “We were compromised,” she replied flatly as though he was a fool for asking such a question. “I have little choice in the matter.”

Thorne chuckled. “You don’t strike me as the kind of woman who bends to societal pressure,” he mused, noting a strange shadow pass over her face as though, once, perhaps long ago, she had.

She did not drop her eyes, their deep blue like ice, hard and unbreakable. “Why are you asking me all these questions?”

“To make out your character,” Thorne echoed her words from their first conversation, delighting in the slight eye roll she gave him. “After all, how am I to know if you’re the kind of woman I want for a wife?”

Lady Christina laughed. “That you should have thought about before cornering me in the library.”

He frowned. “I did not corner you.”

“Yes, you did.” She stepped toward him, indignation in her tone as she shook her head at him. “You could have left, but you didn’t.”

He grinned. “Neither did you.” He looked down at her, noting the exact moment when she realized how close they were standing. Her eyes widened ever so slightly, and she drew in a somewhat unsteady breath. “You stayed as well.”

She swallowed, and for a split-second, her gaze moved from his. “I did not have my slippers, so I—”

“That is nothing but an excuse,” Thorne accused, enjoying this small back-and-forth far more than anything else since coming to London. He had thought the city dull and full of pretentious people. He still did. Only now, he had found a ray of sunshine in the fog and he would hold on to her for as long as he could.

Her mouth dropped open in outrage. “An excuse? How dare you—?”

“Then why did you stay?” Thorne demanded, lowering his head no more than a fraction. Still, it was enough, and he could see the effect of his closeness upon her face. Could she see the same in him? For his own heart seemed to be doing somersaults as well. Never before had he known anyone this…exciting.

Tempting.

Irritating!

“You knew even better than I,” he continued when she opened her mouth, no doubt to contradict him, “what consequences there would be should we be discovered. Yet you stayed, accepting the risk. Why?”

“I told you why!” she snapped, then inhaled deeply, a hint of annoyance in her gaze. Not with him though, but with herself.

A moment later, the anger vanished from her features, and Thorne was surprised to see even a small smile curl up her lips. Ought he to be wary? Was this some sort of trick or manipulation?

“Let us be clear about something,” Lady Christina said sweetly. “The only reason I agreed to marry you is to protect my friend, and the only reason you wish to marry me is to gather support for your ambitions. Let’s not pretend this is anything else than what it is.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him teasingly, then turned and walked over to the settee and sat down. “Shall I call for tea?”

Ignoring her question, Thorne laughed, then sank into the armchair opposite her. “You think you know exactly what this is?”

A slight furrow came to her forehead. “This? Do you mean our impending nuptials?”

Grinning at her, Thorne nodded, certain she knew exactly what he was talking about. It seemed his future wife enjoyed playing games. Indeed, the look in her eyes told him so for he could not help but think that she was not at all opposed to the idea of marrying him. Perhaps this thought was a bit presumptuous of him. Still, Thorne could not help but think that despite the circumstances of how they had found themselves tied to one another, the union would be a successful one.

“Of course,” Lady Christina replied rather haughtily. She folded her hands in her lap, her gaze meeting his openly as she spoke with a calm he doubted she felt. “Marriage like most things in life is governed by rules. Two parties finding mutual benefit in such a union agree to—”

“Is this truly the kind of marriage you wish to have?” Thorne interrupted as he leaned forward resting his elbows upon his knees. “You cannot tell me that as a little girl you dreamed of a mutually beneficial agreement.” He laughed, eyeing her curiously.

Lady Christina cast him a bit of a glaring look, but momentarily refused to answer. Was it that she did not wish to lose her temper in his presence? After all, the pulse at the base of her neck beat as rapidly as before.

“If that were the case,” Thorne continued, wondering how far he could push her before she erupted like a volcano, “then why did you seek to protect your friend from me? After all, our agreement would’ve been mutually beneficial. Why did you interfere?”

Her lips thinned, and she lifted her chin a fraction, giving him the impression that she was suddenly looking down upon him. “You simply do not deserve her,” she said calmly; still, a touch of anger resonated in her voice that she could not quite seem to quell. “We are not all equally capable to treat such a union as a business agreement.” Her brows rose pointedly.

“May I ask,” Thorne began, curious to see what she would say, “what precisely do you object to? Yes, I know you despise my upbringing and my lack of manners. That much we have already established. However, I doubt it is enough to persuade you to think so ill of me. What then?”

Her lips parted as though she wished to respond immediately. Then, however, she paused, her soft blue eyes trailing over his features as though suddenly uncertain that she knew the answer to his question. A deep sigh followed, and then she spoke, “Did you not notice? Not even once?”

Thorne frowned. “Notice what?”

Sighing, she shook her head. “Of course not,” she mumbled more to herself than to him. “Whenever you drew near,” she continued, her voice no harder than before, “Sarah paled, her hands began to tremble and she all but tried to flee your presence.” Her gaze held his for a long moment, challenge lighting up those blue depths. “Did you never notice?”

Thorne swallowed, sensing how deeply his answer mattered to her. “Of course, I did. Despite what you may believe, I am not a heartless ogre. I did not set out to ruin your friend’s life.”

“Then why did you not retreat?” she asked, another furrow adding to her forehead. “Once you knew that she did not wish to marry you, why did you insist upon the union?”

Thorne shook his head. “I did no such thing. Yes, I entered into negotiations with her father, but that was all. No agreement had been reached yet and, quite frankly,” he inhaled a slow breath, “I was beginning to have doubts. Yes, I did notice her reluctance, and, of course, I wondered why. However, as you said it, most times she all but seemed to flee my presence.”

A slight chuckle drifted from her lips. “Did that truly surprise you?”

Thorne threw up his hands. “Am I such a hideous monster that it would be only natural for me to expect any woman to run from me?” To his surprise, at his question, Lady Christina’s gaze fell from his. Only briefly. Only for a split-second. It was enough, though.

A slow smile spread over Thorne’s face, and he could see that she knew he had noticed. He pushed to his feet, his gaze lingering upon her slightly downturned head, and stepped around the coffee table until he stood next to her. Then he slowly lowered himself onto the settee beside her, his gaze seeking hers. “Look at me.”

The muscles in her jaw worked as she fought to maintain her composure. Moments ticked by, and then she moved her gaze to meet his, something unflinching and determined in those blue eyes of hers. “Well?”

Thorne smiled and inched closer until barely a hair’s breadth separated his knee from hers. “Do you not consider me a hideous monster?” he teased, delighting in the soft rosy glow that darkened her cheeks.

She huffed out an exasperated breath, then rolled her eyes at him for good measure. “I would not call you hideous, no. Monster, however—”

Thorne laughed. “Not hideous. My, what a compliment!” He shifted and his knee briefly bumped against hers. Her eyes narrowed, and Thorne’s grin deepened. “Does that then mean that you think me strikingly handsome?”

This time, it was Lady Christina’s turn to laugh, the look in her eyes growing livelier as she shook her head. “Strikingly handsome? Please, do not flatter yourself.”

“Extremely good-looking then,” Thorne offered, not for a second thinking she would agree with him. Yet he was quite certain he did not even want her to.

Her brows rose and fell in that way of hers that made it look as though a little wave had rolled over her features. “Barely passable would be closer to the truth.” Thorne could see that she was lying and also that she knew him to be aware of it. Still, she continued, “Your eyes are too close together, and their color…” She leaned closer, softly shaking her head. “It seems pale and unimpressive. What a shame!”

“Even if that were the case—”

“It is!”

Thorne nodded. “Yes, let’s pretend you’re right and assume my features are barely passable, would that then be reason enough for you to think me a monster, unworthy of your friend? Indeed, what is it that you fear? That I would devour her? That I would lock her up in the highest tower and never let her go free again?” He chuckled.

Lady Christina, however, did not smile or laugh. Indeed, an oddly serious expression came to her face, and she scooted away from him on the settee. “My objections are not with your features, but with your conduct.”

Thorne frowned. “What precisely are you accusing me of?”

To his surprise, Lady Christina shot to her feet and quickly put a few paces between them. “Of course, you wouldn’t understand. Only a gentleman would—”

“Yes!” Thorne hissed as he rose to his feet and followed in her wake, his eyes fixed upon hers as though he were a predator and she, his prey. “I am not a gentleman, so you have said many, many times.”

“It is the truth,” she defended herself, and he could see that his approach unsettled her. Was it his nearness? Nonetheless, only moments ago they had sat next to one another upon the settee. Or was it perhaps the look in his eyes? Was she worried? Worried that he would do…what?

Stopping an arm’s length away from her, Thorne lowered his head a fraction to better look into her eyes. “Whatever does that mean? What is it that makes me not a gentleman? My common background? My—?”

Lady Christina shook her head. “It is not that!” she snapped as though he had just insulted her. “However, it all pertains to how you were raised, how you grew up and what values and morals you were taught. You do not even know which way you give offense. You do not know how to speak to a lady. You do not know how to treat a lady. You are not the kind of man I could abide marrying my friend.” She swallowed and then lifted her chin, holding his gaze without flinching.

Thorne smiled at her as he inched closer, seeing the minuscule widening of her eyes. “Yet” he whispered softly, “you agreed to marry me.”