Once Upon an Irritatingly Magical Kiss by Bree Wolf

Chapter Forty-Seven

Truth Be Told

The house was silent as Thorne left his study. Shadows clung to every corner, and he could not help that eerie feeling that crawled down his spine. The dark reminded him of the previous night as they had gone after Samantha, and he wondered if it would forever be thus.

No sound drifted to his ears as Thorne began to climb the stairs to the upper floor. Everyone had retired to their chambers, exhausted from the events that had transpired not long ago.

Thorne smiled at the memory of how the Whickertons had welcomed Samantha back. All of them had feared for her, and all of them had rejoiced at her return.

She was one of them now.

As was he.

It was a feeling like no other, and Thorne was most grateful for it. Samantha and he had always been a family from the first, but it felt wonderful to have others to join in their lives, in their joy as well as their sorrow.

Others to count on.

Others to turn to.

Others to love.

Thorne knew that Mrs. Miller longed for the very same thing. She loved her son beyond hope, but it was only the two of them. It made life hard for her and for Owen as well.

After they had returned to Pinewood Manor, Mrs. Miller had shared with them the details of how she had learned of Samantha’s existence. It had been by sheer happenstance.

Only a few months ago, Samantha’s true mother had passed away after a long illness. Mrs. Miller had been the one to tend to her in her final days. They had never known each other well, and yet Samantha’s mother had spoken to her of the little babe she had left upon Thorne’s doorstop all those years ago. Tears had stood in her eyes as she had spoken of her precious child and the longing she had felt for her all this time.

Only life had prevented them from ever knowing one another, and Thorne wondered how things might have gone differently if she had not simply left Samantha but come to him for help…for the both of them. How would life be different?

He would never know.

Mrs. Miller had meant to free herself of her dependence upon Mr. Sullivan. By pretending to be Samantha’s mother, she had hoped to gain entrance into Thorne’s home. She had been the one to take the silver letter opener as well as a few other things, wanting to begin a new life with her son.

One where she did not have to fight to put food in her son’s belly day after day. She had seen a chance, and she had taken it.

And then Mr. Sullivan had found her.

Only it seemed that Mr. Sullivan had not acted upon his own volition. He said this would be easy. The words Mrs. Miller had heard him mutter again and again continued to echo in Thorne’s head, and he wondered if perhaps there was still someone out there who was a threat.

If only he knew; yet what he did know was that although Mrs. Miller had made mistakes, she was another victim of this world. She was the kind of person whom Thorne had sworn to fight for, to protect.

After all, he felt absolutely certain that he himself would not have acted differently had it been Samantha’s welfare at stake; and so, Thorne had assured Mrs. Miller that she and her son would always be safe from now on. He would make certain of that. And he would travel to Whickerton Grove in a few days in order to meet with other lords of the realm and seek to persuade them to work with him to improve living conditions for those who suffered most.

“You have yet to speak to her, have you?” came Grandma Edie’s voice before she hobbled into the light a moment later, her pale eyes seeking his.

Thorne drew to a halt, surprised to see her. “I thought everyone was abed.”

The old woman chuckled. “I was waiting for you.”

“Why?”

“To release you from your promise.” Her gaze held his, and she nodded slowly. “You have yet to speak to her?”

Thorne bowed his head. “I’ve tried,” he admitted, lifting his gaze once more. “I’ve said as much as I dared, but I wonder how she will feel when she learns the truth.”

A warm smile came to Grandma Edie’s face. “She will not close her heart to you, of that I am certain.” Lifting her cane, she pointed at Christina’s door. “Go and speak to her. Sleep will not be yours until you do.” Then she cast him a last smile and hobbled away.

Thorne inhaled a deep breath, knowing that she was right. He approached his wife’s door, and then knocked, hoping that she was not yet asleep.

Thorne was surprised that her bid for him to enter came quickly, the sound of her voice muffled by fatigue. Was something keeping her awake as well?

Stepping inside, Thorne found her standing by the window, gazing out at the darkened lands. She turned to him then, a soft smile upon her lips. “I had hoped you would come to me.” She breathed in deeply before her gaze moved down to a sheet of parchment clutched in her hands. “I received a letter from Sarah today.”

Thorne had been about to move toward her, but now paused. “Is she angry with you?” he asked, sensing that something was not right. The look in her gaze held something vulnerable, but a spark of anger seemed to simmer in her veins, held at bay by sheer will alone.

Christina closed her eyes. “I’ve been blind not to see it.” She shook her head slowly. “I always knew how egotistical her parents were, and yet” her eyes opened and she looked at him, something deeply apologetic in her gaze, “I never thought they would go to such lengths. Never.”

A sense of worry snaked up Thorne’s back, and he stepped toward her, pulling her hands into his own, the sheet of parchment still clutched in them. “What is it? Tell me.” He searched her eyes, feeling his unease grow.

Christina swallowed hard, and her lips pressed into a hard line. For a moment, she seemed close to losing her temper, but then managed to rein it in at the last second. “Sarah wrote to warn us.” Her jaw tensed.

“Warn us? What do you mean?”

She pulled her hands from his, the sheet clutched in one fist. “She overheard a conversation between her father and someone she did not know. From what she could gather, she fears that her father might be attempting a kidnapping.”

Thorne felt the blood in his veins turn to ice. “Sam.”

His wife nodded, tears misting her eyes; only the pulse in her neck still hammered angrily. “Yes, Sam.” Her lips pressed into a thin line before she inhaled a deep breath and spoke. “What happened was my fault. If I hadn’t—”

Thorne grasped her hands. “No! Don’t do this! Don’t do this because it isn’t true!”

“But if we hadn’t gotten married—”

“Then Sarah’s father would have hurt someone else in order to get what he wanted,” he told her vehemently. “This is not your fault.” He pulled her into his arms and held her close. “Sam is fine. She is fine, and she will be for all the days to come.” He smiled down at her, equally shaken by the thought of any kind of harm befalling his little girl. “We will make certain of that.”

Christina nodded, her blue eyes aglow with a fierce determination that reminded Thorne of a mother bear. “Yes, we will.” She inhaled a deep breath and stepped back, her gaze once more drifting down to the crumpled sheet. “Sarah wrote that she had to bride a maid to smuggle this letter out because her father forbade her to write to me.”

“There,” Thorne said, sensing how deeply the loss of Sarah’s friendship had weighed upon his wife’s heart. “You have your answer, do you not? She was never angry with you or upset, was she?”

A tentative smile came to Christina’s face. “No, she wrote that she wishes us all the happiness in the world.”

“She is a good friend,” he said with a warm smile, relieved to see his wife breathe easier.

Her face lit up. “The best friend there ever was!” She heaved a deep breath. “I wish there was something we could do to help her. Perhaps...Perhaps Grandma knows a way.” Placing the letter upon the small table by the window, she stepped toward him, a hesitant smile upon her face. “She is awfully meddlesome, if you haven’t noticed yet; however, her plans usually work out. Perhaps...she’ll be able to think of something.”

Gritting his teeth, Thorne breathed in slowly, bracing himself for what was to come. Would she be furious with him once he told her the truth?

A slight frown came to his wife’s face as she looked at him, her eyes watchful—not unlike her grandmother’s. “I cannot help but think that there’s something on your mind and has been for days.” Her blue eyes searched his. “Tell me.”

Thorne heaved a deep sigh and then once again reached for her hands. “It is true,” he said, pulling her closer to him. “There’s something you don’t know. Something I promised not to tell you.”

A frown came to her face. “Promised whom?”

Thorne could not help the smile that spread over his face. “Your grandmother.”

Christina closed her eyes and laughed. “Why am I not surprised?” Her eyes searched his. “What did she do? What did she persuade you to do?”

Thorne held his breath. “She persuaded me to compromise you in the library that day.”

The look upon his wife’s face told him loud and clear that his answer was not what she had expected. “What?” Her mouth dropped open, and she stared at him in disbelief. “Why would she—?” She pulled her hands from his and took a step back. “What are you saying?”

Thorne ran a hand through his hair. He hated the renewed distance between them; yet he knew that he deserved it. He had lied to her. He had kept something vital from her, and she had every right to be angry with him.

“Did she make a deal with you?” Christina asked all of a sudden, anger darkening her voice. “You needed a wife with connections, and everyone knows how much she loves to meddle and match-make. I’ve seen it with my sisters and with my cousin even. Of course, she meant well. She always means well. But…” Her voice trailed off as she shook her head, staring at him in a way that broke his heart. “You took away my choice,” she whispered with a trembling voice. “I know how much it means to you to help those who cannot help themselves. However, I never thought you would go that far.”

“That is not what happened nor is it why I agreed to marry you.”

Christina scoffed. “Agreed to marry me? To compromise me is more like it.”

Thorne clenched his teeth, reminding himself of what the dowager had said to him the day she had sought him out and made this rather astounding proposal. “Yes, I compromised you.” He stepped toward her, his gaze seeking hers. “But you let me.”

Her eyes widened. “I—?”

“You let me!” Thorne stressed, refusing to release her gaze. “You could have walked away, but you did not. You chose not to.”

Clamping her lips shut, his wife stared at him.

Thorne took her reaction as an invitation to continue on and explain himself further. “Your grandmother came to me and said that she had taken note of the way I kept looking at you. Somehow, she knew how I felt about you even then.” A shuddering breath brushed past his wife’s lips. “She said that she believed us to be a good match, not with regards to title and fortune, but in the one way that truly matters.”

Watching his wife most carefully, Thorne slowly reached out his hands and once more grasped hers. At first, he thought she would pull them away. He could feel the urge to do so in the slight twitch of her muscles. Yet she did not. She allowed him to touch her, to hold onto her.

“She told me of her plan,” Thorne continued, “and ensured that I would receive an invitation to your sister’s wedding reception.”

Christina closed her eyes. “I never honestly thought it could have been her. I always wondered who had invited you.”

Thorne inhaled a deep breath, his fingers tightening upon hers. “She never meant to force your hand, but merely to force you to make a decision.”

Her eyes opened and looked up into his. “A decision? About what?”

Thorne gave her a small smile. “About me.”

Frowning, Christina shook her head. “About you? But why would she think—?”

Thorne shrugged. “I’m not certain. She said you would know.”