Once Upon an Irritatingly Magical Kiss by Bree Wolf

Chapter Thirty-Four

Hidden Stories

With a picnic basket slung over her arm, Christina made her way down the small slope into the meadow. The sun shone brightly, and she had to squint her eyes to spot father and daughter on the edge of the forest. The soft breeze carried their voices to her ears, but they were no more than a distant echo. She could not make out the words being spoken; all she knew was that they spoke with joy and laughter.

Wading through the tall grass, Christina marveled at how drastically her life had changed in only a few short weeks. Not long ago, she had not even known Thorne and Samantha existed. Then she had only known his name and the sight of him from across the ballroom. And now?

Now, he was her husband.

A smile came to Christina’s face, and yet it was as always accompanied by a sense of guilt and shame. Yes, Thorne was now her husband, but perhaps he should not have been. Perhaps he should have been Sarah’s husband. How easily could Christina picture her dearest friend here in the meadow, carrying a picnic basket for her new family. Such a life would have made Sarah happy, would it not? She would have been safe here, loved and cherished, away from her self-centered parents.

She would have been happy here.

“Look how high I am!” Samantha called from up in a tree. One hand was wrapped tightly around a thick branch while the other waved frantically, a wide rather triumphant-looking smile upon her little face.

Christina waved back. “Careful now, so you don’t fall.” She walked a few steps closer, then stopped and watched as Thorne directed Samantha’s movements. He spoke calmly and with a voice that rang with conviction as though he knew with absolute certainty that nothing bad would happen, that Samantha would find her way back down to the ground safe and sound.

Of course, he could not know; nonetheless, it was that reassurance in his voice that seemed to make the world a safer place.

At least for Samantha.

Distractedly, Christina found herself staring at him. Although she had refused to acknowledge his appealing smile and wickedly tempting eyes before, now she could not. Now, she saw him for all that he was. He was not a gentleman, but a man who was kind and caring. A man who showed respect to those who deserved it. A man who was strong and who fought not only for himself, but for others as well. He was not one to close his eyes and ignore the pleas for help echoing around him.

Yes, he was not a gentleman, but he was an incredibly good man.

These last few days since his return from London, Christina had been all too aware of him. Whenever he stepped into a room, all her attention moved to him. It was as though the rest of the world was dipped in shadows while he stood in the light.

“Now jump!” Thorne instructed as he held Samantha’s little hands within his own. She crouched on the low hanging branch, and with her eyes fixed upon his, she pushed herself off and jumped to the ground, his hands never releasing hers.

“Did you see that? Christina, did you see me jump?” Samantha exclaimed as she came racing over, her face full of joy and pride.

Shaken out of her thoughts, Christina cleared her throat before returning the little girl’s smile. “Yes, I did. It looked quite frightening. Are you all right?” She set down the picnic basket and reached for the blanket within.

“Shall we set up over there?” Thorne asked as he came striding over. “Under the tree in the shade?”

His eyes looked into hers, and Christina felt her heart skip a beat. She quickly dropped her gaze and busied herself with the basket. “Very well.” She lengthened her strides in order to put some distance between them; yet out of the corner of her eye she caught the hint of confusion that came to his face.

Of course, he was noticing her odd behavior. She was acting like a fool, like a coward. She had chosen this life, and now, she had regrets. She did not regret her choice, but that her choice had come at a price of someone she cared for deeply.

Oh, if only she could be happy here! If only she could give herself to this life! What would it feel like to truly live here in Pinewood Manor? To truly be Thorne’s wife?

Stepping closer, Thorne took the blanket from her hands. “Are you well?” he asked, once more trying to see into her eyes. “You seem…not like yourself.”

Christina quickly looked up at him and smiled. “I’m perfectly fine.” Then she turned away and knelt down beside the basket. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him spread out the blanket. She watched Samantha help to straighten the edges. Then she handed out the food to them both so they could place it in its center. She kept her hands busy and her eyes averted; however, before long all the work was done and her husband and Samantha settled onto the blanket, stretching out their legs.

“Will you not sit down with us?” Samantha asked as she reached for a pastry filled with marmalade. “Are you not hungry?”

Samantha smiled at her, then sat down next to the girl, careful to keep her distance from her husband. “I suppose not as hungry as you. However, I was not the one to climb to the top of the tree, now was I?”

Samantha once more beamed with joy before attacking the pastry in her hand like a hungry lion. “Will you tell us a story?” she asked with her mouth full. “What happened to the little girl after she ran away from home?”

Christina tensed, and her eyes involuntarily drifted to her husband. “Perhaps later.” She could not quite say why she hesitated; however, she had never spoken to anyone about her stories. Only her family knew, and now Samantha.

“I would like to hear a story as well,” Thorne said, his eyes lingering upon her face. She could see that he knew that she felt uncomfortable and that he was wondering why.

Still, Christina hesitated. Would he disapprove? Or would he not object as long as her aspirations never went beyond what was deemed appropriate for a woman? Or was this, perhaps, the solution she had been looking for?

Perhaps if he knew of her childhood dream of being a writer, if she could make him believe that she still intended to pursue it, he would prove himself unworthy of her. No doubt, he would tell her to forget about such aspirations and look toward home and family instead.

As Aunt Francine’s husband had.

Perhaps then she would no longer feel guilty for robbing her friend of a good husband. Perhaps then her heart would turn from him, and she would be free to feel as she saw fit.

Christina heaved a deep sigh. “Very well.” She tried to gather her thoughts, yet it had been a long time since she had spoken of her stories to anyone.

Samantha was different. She was a child, and her glowing eyes made her see everything in a different way. Adults were not like that. They were critical and judgmental, and their words had a way of slashing at one’s heart.

With her eyes upon the little girl in front of her, Christina began her story. “It was already dark when Anna fled the house. She knew not where to go, but simply allowed her feet to carry her onward. A chilling wind blew that night, tearing at her hair and skirts as she stumbled through the tall grass. Her eyes were full of tears, and she could barely see the next step in front of her. Even without tears running down her cheeks, she would have been hard-pressed to make out anything in her vicinity. Dark shadows loomed, and the dim light that touched the world that night would not grant her safe passage.”

Sitting completely still, Samantha stared at her, the bite of pastry in her mouth all but forgotten. “What…?” she tried to ask around the bite in her mouth, but then stopped, chewed a few times and swallowed. “What happened then? Did she get lost?”

Samantha smiled at the little girl. “She feared she would. She let her eyes drift over the land, but she could see nothing but shadows and darkness. She knew she could not go back home so she continued onward even though she did not know where to go.”

Samantha scooted closer, her eyes wide, and the pastry in her hand squished in a way that marmalade dripped down from her fingers and onto the blanket.

“She walked and walked,” Christina continued her story, careful to keep her eyes on the little girl. “Her legs began to grow heavy, yet she continued on. After a long while, she finally saw something in the distance.”

Samantha drew in a sharp breath and clapped her hands together in joy. “Fairies!” The pastry was now hopelessly destroyed and clung not only to Samantha’s hands but also to her dress and parts of the blanket.

Thorne chuckled, then rose to his feet. “You better wash before Mrs. Huxley sees you.” He reached for a jug of water and urged Samantha to step off the blanket and hold out her hands. Then he proceeded to wash them until the child was reasonably clean once more. “Are you still hungry?”

Looking at her empty hands, Samantha nodded.

“Then I suppose you should eat before Christina continues the story,” Thorne suggested with a smile, “for we do not have an endless supply of food, and if you continue to crush it in your hands in your excitement, we shall surely run out.”

Nodding, Samantha complied and once more sat down upon the blanket and reached for a pastry. Thorne, too, returned to sit with them; however, this time, he seated himself far closer to Christina. She could feel his eyes drift over, lingering here and there, before she finally turned to face him. “Is something wrong?” she demanded, unable to keep her voice even.

Thorne frowned at her. “I was about to ask you the same thing,” he remarked with a sideways glance at Samantha, who seemed to be rather oblivious at the moment for she chewed and swallowed and then took another bite. “You seem upset with me.” He leaned closer. “What did I do?”

Christina’s mouth opened, but no words came out for in truth he had done nothing. That was the problem, was it not?

“I’m finished,” Samantha exclaimed before she rose and then seated herself in her father’s lap. “Will you continue the story now?”

Grateful for the little girl’s interference, Christina nodded. She kept her gaze upon Samantha’s wide green eyes and tried her best to ignore the man who kept watching her with hawk’s eyes.

The afternoon passed swiftly and pleasantly despite the tension that continued to linger in Christina’s body. She kept stealing glances at her husband but could not be certain what he was thinking. She did not see disapproval upon his face, but rather confusion and the desire to understand.

She knew well how that felt for she longed for the very same thing. Never before had her own actions and thoughts confused her like this. Never before had she felt so at odds with the world and herself.

When it was time to head back, Christina mumbled an excuse, begging them to see to returning the picnic basket to Cook on their own. Then, before either one of them could object or ask for details, she rushed off.

Exhaustion lingered in her limbs for it was rather tiring to uphold this pretense. Yes, she was pretending. She was pretending to be upset with her husband. She was pretending to enjoy herself. She was pretending to not enjoy herself. She was pretending to…

Christina no longer knew. She stumbled ahead almost blindly and felt reminded of the little girl in her story who walked without sight but simply knew that she needed to get away.

Through a side door, she slunk into the house and somehow found her way into the drawing room. There she sank into an armchair, exhausted. She drew in a couple of deep breaths before she surged to her feet once more and began to pace, unable to sit still, her mind too full of thoughts. “What am I to do?” she mumbled to herself, feeling torn in two separate directions.

Although Christina had failed to write to Sarah and inform her of her decision with regard to marrying Thorne beforehand, she had somehow found the nerve to write to her after. A few weeks ago, Christina had finally penned a letter explaining how everything had happened and apologizing profusely for robbing Sarah of a decent husband. She was uncertain what she expected or hoped for; however, Sarah had yet to respond.

So far there had been no letter from her friend.

Nothing.

“What am I to do?” Christina once again mumbled to herself. Without Sarah’s blessing, a dark cloud would forever be hanging over her marriage, over every moment. Despite Sarah’s words, Christina could not help but think that her friend might be heartbroken after all. Before, she had not known what a wonderful man Thorne was...not until Christina had told her so. Was it possible that Sarah was unwilling to grant her blessing? Was that why she had yet to reply?

If only Christina had never...come to care for her husband! If only!

“Why can he not be the man I thought him to be? Why can he not be a scoundrel and a rake and a reprobate? Why?” She shook her head. “It would make everything so much easier.” A frustrated growl rose from her throat. “Why do I have to like him?”

“Like him! Like him!” squawked Biscuit in the corner.

Christina flinched and spun around, staring at the bird. “What are you doing here?” she asked foolishly, cursing herself for not having noticed the bird’s presence before.

“Sam! Sam!” Biscuit replied as though answering her question of how he had come to be there.

Sighing deeply, Christina turned away and stepped up to the window, resting her forehead against the cool pane. “What am I to do?”

“You could tell me what is going on,” came Thorne’s voice from the door, and Christina whirled around.

Standing there, he looked at her for a moment longer before pushing the door shut. Then he came toward her. “What happened?” he asked, those green eyes of his searching her face as though hoping to read the answer to his question there somewhere. “Why did you run off?”

Backing away until the window stopped her retreat, Christina shook her head. She could not think. Her nerves were too frayed. She needed him to leave. “It is nothing,” she snapped, lifting her hand to stop him when he continued toward her. “Leave. I wish to be alone.”

Slowly, Thorne shook his head. “Talk to me, Chris. Whatever is on your mind, has been there for days, weeks even. Do you honestly think it will go away if you ignore it?”

Christina bit her lower lip, tempted to confess everything, yet equally determined to keep him at arm’s length.

“Like him! Like him!” Biscuit squawked.

Christina froze, feeling her eyes go wide as she stared at her husband, the bird’s words—her words!—echoing in her ears.

Thorne stilled, his eyes darting to the bird before returning to watch her most carefully. And then she could see understanding dawn. A smile began to tease his lips before he took another step toward her. “Is that what it is?” he asked. “Are you afraid to like me?”

Christina continued to stare at him unable to say anything.

“Why?”