Once Upon an Irritatingly Magical Kiss by Bree Wolf

Chapter Twenty-Nine

An Overdue Confession

Thorne could have kicked himself. Of course, she was angry. She was angry and hurt. Anyone would be. Of course, he had known that this would happen, and yet he had remained silent. He had been a coward to not speak to her before now. It had been a mistake, a grave mistake.

Now, though, there was no changing that.

“I suggest we step inside.” He moved toward her but took care not to step too close. “Then I will tell you all you wish to know. I promise.”

Doubt remained in her blue eyes. For a moment, they lingered upon his face as though she was seeing him for the very first time. Then she gave a curt nod of agreement before stepping past him, ignoring his proffered arm and heading into the house.

Rushing to catch up with her, Thorne guided her into the drawing room, then closed the door. He was aware that she kept her distance from him, and he was surprised by how much it bothered him.

Yes, he ought to have told her. He had had countless chances, and yet he had not. In the beginning, he had been afraid that she would change her mind, despite her words, and refuse to marry him. Then, last night as well as this morning, Thorne could not help but think that if he told her now, she might not leave London with him. That she might return to her family who would no doubt grant her sanctuary.

Even from him.

Even from her own husband.

Of course, they would be right to do so. He was the villain in this, was he not?

Raking a hand through his hair, Thorne tried to find the words to say what needed to be said. His gaze moved to hers, and he found her watching him through narrowed eyes. “I can see that you’re angry with me, and you have every right to be. But—”

“Where is her mother?” Christina snapped, her gaze moving to the door as though she truly expected another woman to burst in at any moment. “Is she here? In this house?” Her gaze narrowed even further as her jaw seemed to drop another fraction. “Is she your wife?” Her own words seemed to slam into her, and she took a staggering step backward, her eyes widening in shock.

In all honesty, Thorne had not expected this. These questions. “I have no wife,” he blurted out stupidly, then shook his head. “I mean, of course, I do, what I meant to say was—” He broke off and inhaled a slow breath, trying his best to calm the wild hammering of his heart.

Lifting his chin, he took a step toward her, not daring to take another, and met her eyes, urging her to believe him. “You are my wife,” he said softly and slowly. “You are the only wife I’ve ever had, and I ever care to have. There has never been another. I give you my word.”

Christina remained silent, her wide blue eyes fixed upon his face. Yet he thought to see a mild softening of her features as though his words had brought her relief…if only a small measure of it. “Then…she’s a bastard?” She all but flinched at the last word, and he could see her displeasure at hearing it leave her lips. “Where is her mother? Who is she?”

Thorne heaved a deep sigh. “In all honesty, I cannot say for certain. I’ve never met her.”

Her gaze narrowed in confusion. “You’ve never met her? But how—?” She shook her head. “Would you care to explain this to me in a way I can understand?” A sharp tone came to her voice, and she uncrossed her arms, settling her hands upon her hips.

Thorne almost smiled for he liked that defiant expression upon her features. He moved toward one of the armchairs and gestured for her to sit in the other. “Please.”

Christina shook her hand. “No, I cannot sit now. I am much too—” She broke off, spun around and paced a few steps back and forth. Then she once more turned and met his eyes. “Explain yourself.”

Thorne nodded. “Although Samantha calls me Father,” he began, sending a quick glance at the door to ensure that it was truly closed, “I am not the man who fathered her.” He heaved a deep sigh as he remembered the day he had first laid eyes upon Samantha. “It was in the deep of winter. Snow covered the ground, and an icy chill lingered in the air when a knock sounded on my front door. I was about to retire and crossing the foyer at the time when I heard it. I went to open it,” he blinked, and his gaze moved to settle upon his wife’s, “and there she was, wrapped in a thin blanket, placed upon my doorstep.”

A shuddering breath left Christina’s lips as she stared at him, something achingly soft in her eyes, a feeling he remembered, a feeling that returned to him every time he recalled that first moment with Samantha. “Her mother left her upon your doorstep?” she whispered, utter disbelief in her voice.

Thorne nodded. “There was a note tucked into the blanket. It was no more than a few words, a few misspelled and barely legible words.” Holding Christina’s gaze, he took a step toward her, and this time, she did not retreat. “Life is hard for those who were not born to privilege. I try my utmost to be a fair employer and pay my workers a wage that allows them to live and not merely exist from day to day.” He briefly closed his eyes as countless memories resurfaced of all the atrocities he had witnessed. “But I am one man, and there are many who simply do not care. Far too many people die every day because of something that could’ve easily been prevented. Parents work themselves to death, and children grow up in poverty, never knowing anything else. It is a sad world,” he gritted his teeth until his jaw ached, “one that never fails to stir anger in my heart.”

Tears misted Christina’s eyes, and Thorne loved her for it. He loved that this very moment when she felt betrayed herself, when she had been hurt, she could still feel for others. Her heart was still able to show compassion. “It is why you came to London.”

“It is,” Thorne confirmed, remembering the moment he had come to realize that his own efforts alone would not do. “I tried to find Samantha’s mother,” he continued, linking his arms behind his back. “But I never managed to. I don’t know who she was. I don’t know if she still lives.” A small smile came to his lips as a spark of joy shot through his heart. “I never…intended to keep her, but as I kept searching for her mother, day after day passed and eventually…” Looking at his wife, he shrugged.

Blinking back tears, Christina nodded. “You couldn’t give her up,” she finished for him. “She had already become yours.”

Thorne inhaled a deep breath. “Yes, she had. So, I gave her my name and…” He paused. “I gave her my name, and yet the first time she called me Father, I…” He shook his head, looking at her. “Perhaps I was a fool for not seeing it coming. Why would she not call me Father? Nonetheless, I had not expected it. I should have. It is not those who bring us into the world we hold to heart, is it? It is the ones that stand with us every day through every trial.” He rubbed a hand over his eyes, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “Honestly, I have never spoken about her to anyone. Not like this.”

Emotions flickered in Christina’s eyes; however, she remained where she was, the expression upon her face preventing him from stepping closer. “Why did you not tell me?”

The doubting accusation in her voice felt like a punch to the gut. “I don’t know. I—”

“Yes, you do!” Something fierce came to her eyes as she took a step closer, pinning him with her gaze. “You do know. Be honest and admit to it.”

Thorne gritted his teeth, his lower jaw moving back and forth as he looked at her. “I was afraid,” he finally said, every fiber of his being revolting against the admission. In his world, weakness was exploited. It was the first lesson he had ever learned, and it still lived in his bones. “I was afraid you would change your mind and refuse to marry me.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line before she nodded. “I know. You came to London to seek connections, to bring about change and improve the lives of those you feel responsible for.” She turned away and walked over to look out the window. “It is a noble ambition and it recommends you. I know I misjudged you, but you should have told me.”

Despite seeing only the back of her head, Thorne could tell that his lack of trust had wounded her. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I should have told you. I wanted to, but I simply could not take the risk.” He did not even dare picture a life without her by his side. Only a matter of weeks had passed since he had first laid eyes on her, and yet she had already become such an intricate part of his life that…the mere thought of her not being here with him sent a crippling agony through his body.

Thorne closed his eyes. When had he come to care for her in such a way? How could he not have noticed? Of course, he had been aware of her allure. There was something about her that drew him near. Something that made him seek her out. Something that made it hard for him to stay away.

From the first, he had known that he wanted her and no other. The choice had been easy. It had not truly been a choice. He had seen her, and he had known. Only the depth of his dependence upon her, upon her presence in his life, was shocking, nonetheless.

“I wish to be alone,” Christina whispered, keeping her gaze fixed out the window. “Please.”

Every fiber of his being told him to stay; yet a gentleman would comply, would he not? It would be the honorable thing to do. “Very well.” He stepped back and moved toward the door, then stopped and looked back at her. “I will see to Samantha. Please feel free to go wherever you wish. This is your home as much as it is mine.” He placed his hand upon the door handle. “I am sorry for the manner of your arrival here. I should’ve spoken to you before now. You have my sincerest apologies and my promise to do better in the future.”

Thorne waited for another moment or two, hoping that she would turn around and look at him, that she would say something, anything.

But she did not.

With her back turned to him, Christina remained standing by the window, her eyes directed at the gardens outside or perhaps at something beyond.

Finally opening the door, Thorne left, hoping that his silence had not doomed them all.