Once Upon an Irritatingly Magical Kiss by Bree Wolf

Chapter Seventeen

A Well-Kept Secret

The world seemed aglow as the sun streamed in through the tall windows of the drawing room. Thorne stood with his hands linked behind his back, his gaze focused out at the grassy hills, the tall stalks swaying gently in the summer’s breeze. It was a peaceful view, calm and soothing, and he could imagine living his life out here. Was this the life his future bride had known since birth?

Thorne heaved a deep sigh, wishing that every child in the world could grow up in a place like this. A place full of warmth and kindness, full of space and endless horizons. A place filled with a loving family and guiding hands.

His own life, of course, had been far different from this magnificent place and all it promised, all it inspired. It had been cold and harsh and painful, and it was like that for countless other children all over the country. Never would they know the meaning of undisturbed sleep, of sweet dreams and wonderful awakenings. Too harsh was the reality they faced every day, and it was that thought that never failed to stir anger in Thorne’s heart. Yes, he had come to London to do something.

To accomplish something.

For them.

He needed to garner support and influence. New laws were needed. Laws that would require cotton mill owners to uphold safety measures and take health requirements into account.

That was why he was here.

Only ever since Thorne had laid eyes on Christina, a dormant part of him had reawakened. He could not even recall if that part had ever known life before. Perhaps as a child. Perhaps when his parents had still been alive.

It was a dream.

Hope.

Thorne sighed for although he knew his duty and responsibilities, he could no longer deny that all of a sudden there was something that he wanted.

For himself.

He wanted her.

He had wanted her from the first moment he had laid eyes upon her.

Still, it was not all that he wanted. He did not simply want her in his bed or even as his wife. He knew very well—had observed it countless times—that marriage was no guarantee for…closeness.

In truth, what Thorne wanted was love and family. People that were his to protect and provide for. A wife and children he could dote upon and whose smiles and laughter would bring him joy.

His gaze swept over the windswept hills outside the window once more, and he heaved another deep sigh, one full of longing and desire.

Perhaps this was the place. Perhaps they could all be happy here.

Thorne knew that Christina was close to her family and always would be. He would not have it any other way for he was beginning to grow quite fond of them as well. They were her family, and perhaps one day they might be his as well.

Only too well did Thorne remember Christina’s reaction to the idea of him taking Miss Mortensen away from London and back to Manchester. He could only imagine how upset she would be if upon their nuptials she would find herself whisked away to the north. No, he was certain she would want to stay close to her family.

And this estate—Pinewood Manor—was everything he thought she would want. Although it was sizable, it was not overly large, giving it a somewhat cozy character where it sat nestled among gently sloping hills. It was no more than a day’s ride from Whickerton Grove, her family’s estate, which would ensure that his future wife could remain close to those she held dear.

Footsteps drifted to his ears, small and swift ones racing with no regard for care or caution down the large staircase in the hall. Happy giggles accompanied those footsteps, immediately followed by words of caution from Mrs. Huxley.

Despite himself, Thorne smiled. “In here!” he called, turning away from the window and toward the door the moment Samantha crossed over the threshold.

Her sparkling eyes were full of mischief and her blonde curls danced wildly upon her shoulders as she came skipping toward him. “This is a wonderful place!” she exclaimed, clasping her hands together as those wide round eyes rose to meet his.

At five years of age, of course, Samantha did not even reach up to his midsection, forcing Thorne to kneel down if he wished to look into her eyes. “Do you like it?” he asked, reaching for her little hands. “Are the stairs in the hall not too steep?”

Her eyes lit up like fireflies. “No, they are perfect. Perhaps another year or two and I will be able to slide down the banister.”

Panting under her breath, Mrs. Huxley finally reached the drawing room. “You are not under any circumstances to do that, young lady!” she admonished sternly. However, the effect of her words was somewhat lost considering the heaving gasps rattling from her chest.

“Quite right,” Thorne agreed with a quick glance at Mrs. Huxley. However, when he shifted his gaze back to Samantha, he winked at her. “Not under any circumstances!”

Samantha giggled, a conspiratorial gleam in her eyes. “Of course not!” Then her gaze traveled past his shoulder to the window, and her round eyes grew even wider as they swept over the grassy hills. “Is this to be our new home?” she asked, awe tinging her voice as she drew her hands from his and stepped around him up to the window.

Thorne nodded, allowing his gaze to follow hers. “Would you like that?”

With her nose almost pressed to the glass, Samantha nodded. “Oh, yes, I would.” She glanced up at him over her shoulder. “Do you think your new wife will like it here?”

Thorne heaved a deep sigh. Then he moved to stand next to Samantha, one hand braced upon the wall. “I very much hope so.”

“Tell me her name again.”

“Christina,” Thorne whispered, cherishing the feel of her name upon his tongue. Thus far, he had only occasionally uttered it out loud. Of course, he had called her Chris as her sisters were wont to do. He had done it to tease her, and he had quite liked the result. As had she, he suspected, despite her objections.

“It’s a beautiful name,” Samantha marveled, saying it once, twice. “Like that of a princess.” With her little hand still resting upon the windowpane, Samantha slowly turned her head to look at him. Something serious rested in those green eyes of hers, something vulnerable, and Thorne found himself drop to his knees once more, his large hands reaching for her small ones. “Do you think she will like me?” Samantha asked then, an almost desperate need swinging in her voice.

Thorne swallowed hard, afraid to raise Samantha’s hopes, when, in truth, he had yet to mention the little girl to Christina. “Of course, she will,” he told her nonetheless and without delay. After all, when her wide eyes so full of hope and trust looked into his, he found himself unable to deny her anything.

She was a child, one of many out there in the world, who deserved everything. A family. A home. A future without backbreaking labor.

Try as he might, Thorne knew that he would never be able to ensure every child’s future. He certainly would do his best to protect them, them and their families, but he knew it would never be enough.

But for Samantha, there were no limits. Nevertheless, all she ever dreamed of was a mother. A mother who would love her, who would soothe her tears and read her stories. A mother who would stay by her side for the rest of her life, provide counsel and loving care.

Could Christina be that woman? Was it possible that perhaps in a year from now they would all be a family?

Looking at Samantha, Thorne knew that that was what she wanted. In truth, though, it was what he wanted as well.