Once Upon an Irritatingly Magical Kiss by Bree Wolf
Chapter Thirty-Three
A Promised Return
Thorne left London the very moment his last meeting with Lord Huntington ended. He had been away from Pinewood Manor and his family for more than a sennight, and he could not wait to return home.
Uncertain whether he had achieved anything meaningful, Thorne continued to replay the many conversations he had held during his stay in London again and again in his mind. Lord Whickerton had been most helpful in influencing others to listen. Unfortunately, not even his new father-in-law could work miracles. Most lords had other things on their minds besides safety regulations and healthcare needs for the common men, women and children. Few had ever laid eyes on a burn victim or someone with a missing limb. They could not imagine the life that others lived day after day.
To Thorne, it was frustrating to no end. To look into these men’s bored faces and know that they spent their fortunes on frivolous things while others did not possess enough to feed their families. It was an unjust world, and Thorne always felt his anger stir whenever he stood up to fight for those who did not have a voice.
There were days when every thought of his that was occupied with something other than their plight felt like a betrayal. How could he laugh and enjoy himself when others suffered so much? How did he dare?
Nonetheless, there was not much Thorne could do. He could not change the world on his own. He needed others to join him. Yes, many had turned a deaf ear, but some had listened. Perhaps with time and repetition, he could secure their support and eventually bring about change.
It was his greatest hope for he knew not what else to do.
Yet this fight drained him for it often seemed impossible. It exhausted his mind and heart and even his body, and sometimes all he wanted was to forget about it and live in a moment of oblivion.
In these moments, the desire to return to his family pulled at him the strongest, to such an extent that he could barely resist. So, when Thorne left Lord Huntington’s townhouse that night, he did not even return to his own. He mounted his gelding and urged it down the road leading out of London and into the country.
Toward Pinewood Manor.
Toward home.
And his family.
Thorne rode until it was too dark to see. Midnight was near when he finally came upon an inn, grateful not to have to spend a night on the road. Trudging up the stairs to his room, he lay down on the bed and closed his eyes. Although exhaustion pulled on him, his mind once more returned to the moment he had bid his wife farewell.
Countless times over the past sennight had he done so. Countless times had he relived that moment.
That kiss.
That look in her eyes.
Those words that…had given him hope.
Before he had left, an icy distance had been between them. He had felt it every day, uncertain what to do about it. More than once had he been close to confronting her. Yet he had not. He had felt guilty, knowing that Christina had good reason to distrust him, to punish him even for what he had done. He had lied to her and manipulated her into accepting his hand.
He ought not have done so.
Thorne also remembered his last words to her. If you do not stop me, if you do not speak out loud and clear, the moment I return from London, you will be back in my arms.
Would she? It was the one question that had all but tormented him this past week. Would she stop him? Would she tell him to leave her alone?
Or would she not?
Exhaustion finally closed Thorne’s eyes; however, not long before dawn began lurking upon the horizon did he rise once more and head down to the stables to continue his journey.
Fortunately, on horseback, he was able to travel faster than they had by carriage the day they had first arrived. And so, Thorne found his gaze catch a first glimpse of Pinewood Manor no more than three hours after the sun had begun rising in the east. It was still early in the day, and he wondered if his wife was already awake. Was she already down in the breakfast parlor? Or was she still asleep in her chambers?
Eagerness burned in his veins, and he hoped with every fiber of his being that she would not refuse him. Thorne did not know what he would do if she did, but he feared he might perish.
Grateful for the stable boy who came running the moment he jumped off his horse, Thorne quickly climbed the steps of the front door and headed into the hall. Reuben appeared out of nowhere and offered a respectful bow. “Welcome back, Sir.”
Thorne nodded to the old man. “Good morning. Is my wife already up?”
“I believe not, Sir.”
Without another word or glance at his butler, Thorne climbed the stairs toward the first floor two at a time. A part of him felt foolish, even urged him to slow down, to remain cautious. Only he was unable to comply.
Large strides carried him down the corridor, his gaze fixed upon the door to his wife’s chamber. Ought he to knock? Would she be furious with him if he simply burst in?
A soft chuckle drifted from his lips because he knew that she would be. Yet more often than not, it seemed that she liked being furious with him. He, too, could not deny that he loved her spirit, her directness, the way she offered resistance. It was almost a game between them, a game that had often enough ended in a kiss.
Would it today?
Thorne hesitated outside her door, but for no more than a second. He was willing to risk her wrath. He would rather she snap at him instead of denying him entrance. And so, he opened the door, quietly, and stepped inside.
Although not a sound drifted to his ears, the curtains were no longer drawn. Had she left them open over night? Or had she already risen without Reuben noticing?
Closing the door, Thorne turned toward the bed. He felt like an intruder, and yet he could not help himself. His gaze drifted up the covers, imagining her tempting body underneath, until they fell upon the small hand of a child.
Thorne blinked as his feet drew to a halt. “Sam?” he mumbled as he stared at his wife and daughter, snuggled in each other’s arms, eyes closed and sleeping peacefully.
Always had he known that Christina would eventually succumb to Samantha’s daring spirit and innocent laughter. Only this he had never imagined. Something had to have happened in his absence, and he wished he knew what that was.
He wished it could work for him and Christina as well. Perhaps if he asked, Samantha would share her secret with him.
For a long time, Thorne remained by the foot of the bed, his eyes drawn to them. Never had he seen them so peaceful, not even Samantha. The girl seemed to breathe more easily with Christina’s arm wrapped around her.
A wide yawn suddenly stretched across the little girl’s face as she turned in Christina’s arms, her own stretching as slumber slowly fell away. Christina, too, began to stir as though sensing the girl was close to waking.
The moment Samantha beheld him standing by the bed, her eyes opened wide and then she suddenly surged upward. “Papa!” Jumping to her feet, she tiptoed across the mattress and then flung herself into his arms. “You’re back!”
Thorne held her tightly, always amazed at the feeling that swept through him when those little arms wrapped around his neck. There was nothing like it.
Nothing.
Over his daughter’s shoulder, Thorne saw his wife blink her eyes and then pushed herself up onto her elbows. Sleep still lingered upon her face, and she brushed a hand over her eyes before looking up at him.
“Good morning,” Thorne greeted her with a grin when he saw a soft hint of red come to her cheeks. She inhaled an unsteady breath and then slowly reached out to pull the covers higher, almost up to her chin.
Thorne’s grin deepened until his wife, finally abandoning the attempt to hide from him, pushed herself into a sitting position and met his eyes with an unflinching look of her own. “So, you have returned,” she stated; something other than mere observation swung in her voice. It almost sounded like a challenge.
Thorne nodded, wondering if she remembered the words he had last spoken to her. The promise. “I have,” he replied, wishing he knew if she could see the memory upon his face.
Setting Samantha back down onto the bed, Thorne looked at his daughter. “What are you doing here? I must say I’m quite surprised.”
Samantha cast a warm smile over her shoulder at Christina, a smile that was full of shared memories and whispered secrets. “I had a nightmare,” Samantha said, turning back to look at him, a hint of fear still in her eyes. “I was frightened, and so I came in here.” And then all of a sudden, her face brightened in a way as Thorne had rarely seen it. “Christina told me a story about fairies. It was so beautiful. Did you know that fairies are all around us? They pretend to be fireflies to keep themselves safe.”
Thorne returned her smile. “I had no idea. Perhaps you can tell me more about this after breakfast. You must be hungry.” It was true, he did wish to know more about what had happened between his wife and daughter in his absence. At present, though, he could not deny that there was another matter on his mind.
Behind them, Christina was slipping from the bed and pulling on a robe. Her delicate hands moved swiftly to tie the belt before she walked around to the foot of the bed, her bright blue eyes coming to rest upon Samantha. “Perhaps you should go find Mrs. Huxley and get dressed. I admit I’m quite famished myself.”
Jumping off the bed, Samantha beamed up at her. “Will you tell me more stories? About fairies?”
Smiling, Christina placed a gentle hand upon the girl’s cheek. “Of course. Anytime you wish. Now, go and get dressed.”
With her curls bouncing up and down, Samantha skipped from the room, a soft melody drifting from her lips as she continued down the corridor.
Following in his daughter’s wake, Thorne moved toward the door…and closed it. Then he turned back around to look at his wife.
Her eyes were watchful as she regarded him. “What are you doing in my chamber?” Briefly, her gaze left his and darted to the door at his back. “You did not knock, did you?”
Thorne grinned at her. “How would you know? You were fast asleep.” Reminding himself not to rush things, Thorne moved toward her slowly.
Her breath seemed to catch in her throat; however, her eyes remained upon his. “Is this a way for a gentleman to conduct himself? To enter a lady’s chamber without invitation?”
Thorne chuckled, approaching another step. “Did you truly expect differently? Was it not you who told me repeatedly that I was not a gentleman?”
Her lips curled into the beginnings of a smile as she retreated a step. Fortunately, there was nothing timid or even fearful about her. She did not retreat out of concern, but…to lure him closer? “Gentleman or not, you have no right to be in my chamber.” She retreated another step until her back came up against the right column at the foot of the bed.
Holding her gaze, Thorne ignored her words. “Is that so?” He watched her chin rise with each step he took, her blue eyes remaining fixed upon his. “Would you like me to leave?” he asked against his better judgment, knowing that he would come close to shattering if she were to order him away.
For a moment, Christina remained quiet; yet her gaze watched his approach with something more than interest. “I would like to know what you’re doing in my chamber,” she finally said when no more than an arm’s length separated them. “Why are you here?”
Thorne could not help but think that she knew precisely why he was here. She knew, but she wanted him to say it. And so, he did. “I’m here to uphold a promise,” he whispered as he slowly lowered his head to hers.
Her breathing quickened as she looked up at him, her lips slightly parted. “Are you a man of your word then?”
“Always,” he whispered as he leaned closer still, his hands rising to settle upon her waist. He felt a shiver go through her as his hands continued to slide onto her back, pulling her into his embrace.
Time seemed to stand still as they stood there, their eyes locked, the distance between them shrinking incrementally as they all but drifted toward one another like two magnets unable to maintain the space between them.
“You were gone a long time,” Christina whispered against his lips, her breath coming fast as her hands settled upon his arms.
“Too long,” Thorne murmured, enjoying the tantalizing closeness between them. It was torture, and yet it was bliss at the same time. “Did you miss me?”
Her lips twitched, and he could see something utterly tempting spark in her blue eyes. They seemed to darken in a most alluring way, and he wondered if she was even aware of it. “Perhaps,” she replied on a whisper, tilting her head upward another fraction.
Thorne grinned before his gaze darted to her lips. “Do you want me to kiss you?”
“A gentleman would not ask such a thing,” she chided teasingly, raking her teeth across her lower lip in a deeply seductive, yet strangely innocent gesture.
Thorne chuckled deep in his throat. “I’m beginning to think that despite your words it is not a gentleman you want.” He paused, then quickly dipped his head and brushed his lips against hers in a feather-light touch. “Is that not so? Admit it. You’re beginning to like that I’m not a gentleman.” He swallowed. “You’re beginning to like—”
The breath lodged in his throat as he looked at her. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest and found himself surprisingly unable to finish what he had begun to say.
Her chest rose and fell with a deep breath. “You?” Christina half-asked and half-stated. Her fingers tightened upon his arms as though she wished to pull him closer.
Thorne was only too happy to comply. “Do you?” he whispered, brushing his lips against hers yet again.
“Never,” she replied with a smile before she pushed herself up onto her toes and kissed him.
Thorne felt a low groan deep in his throat. “Never?” he asked and then kissed her again.
Her hands snaked upward, and he felt the tips of her fingers brush against his neck, then curl into his collar, tightening her hold on him. “Perhaps.”
“Perhaps?” he teased, smiling against her lips.
“Perhaps a little.”
Thorne slanted his mouth across hers and kissed her deeply. Then he lifted his head and looked at her. “A little?”
Her breathing came fast as she tried to pull him back down to her. “Or a little more.” Her teeth once more dug into her lower lip. “Stop teasing me,” she all but commanded, then kissed him as he had hoped she would.
Sinking into their kiss, Thorne reveled in the feel of her. Her skin was warm and soft even through the layers of fabric protecting her from his inquisitive hands. Still, the knot in the front of her robe quickly loosened, and his hands slid inside.
Christina gasped, and he felt another shiver run down her back. Yet she did not pull away nor demand he stop and act the gentleman he was not.
Nor had he any wish to be.
With each touch and each kiss, Christina grew bolder, her passion matching his in a way Thorne had not dared hope for. He was close to picking her up and moving this onto the bed when Samantha’s voice echoed along the corridor. “Are you coming?”
Instantly, the two of them surged apart, both breathing heavily as they stared at one another in shock. A becoming flush darkened Christina’s cheeks before she quickly averted her gaze, a rather endearing, yet also somewhat embarrassed smile drawing up the corners of her mouth.
Briefly, Thorne closed his eyes and chuckled. “I love her dearly, but that girl has awful timing.”
Reaching to refasten her robe, Christina grinned, her cheeks a blazing red now.
A moment later, the door flew open, and Samantha bounced in, dressed in a pale blue dress and her wild hair braided down her back. She looked from him to Christina and then frowned. “You’re still not dressed.” Confusion came to her eyes. “What have you been doing?”
Thorne had to clench his jaw to keep from laughing out loud for Christina’s face seemed to darken with each inquisitive look Samantha cast in her direction.
“Are you well?” Samantha asked, squinting her eyes as she looked at Christina. “You look flushed.”
Closing her eyes, Christina inhaled a deep breath, careful not to meet his eyes. Then she knelt down to speak to Samantha. “I’m quite well, dearest. How about you go on downstairs, and I promise I’ll be quick. All right?”
Still frowning, Samantha nodded. “Very well.”
“And take your father with you,” Christina added belatedly before Samantha could once more skip out the door. “I have no need for him up here.”
Thorne turned to look at his wife and saw her brows arch up in a teasing gesture. The red upon her cheeks was fading, and she once more stood tall and proud, meeting his eyes without the slightest hint of mortification. “Is that so?” he asked with a grin.
Christina nodded, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Then she stepped back to let him pass, careful not to allow him to come too close. “Indeed, your presence proves to be awfully distracting. If you stay, I believe I shall never make my way downstairs, and I admit I’m quite…famished.”
“Come, Papa,” Samantha exclaimed, taking him by the hand and pulling him away from Christina and toward the door. “I’m famished, too. She’ll dress quicker without you here.”
Reluctantly, Thorne followed his daughter. “And here I thought ladies could not make do without someone to help with their laces.”
The look upon Christina’s face told him loud and clear that she was not so innocent that she did not understand his meaning. The flush upon her cheeks returned, and she quickly averted her eyes. “I shall call for my lady’s maid,” she assured him once her gaze was steady again. “Do not trouble yourself, Sir.”
Thorne cast her one last, longing look before closing the door behind him and his daughter. Nevertheless, the image of Christina, her blue eyes dark with passion and the belt of her robe undone, remained in his mind.
Indeed, they both knew what would have happened—could possibly have happened—if it had not been for Samantha’s interference.
“I’m so glad you’re back.” Craning her little neck, Samantha beamed up at him.
Thorne returned her smile. “As am I.”