Once Upon an Irritatingly Magical Kiss by Bree Wolf

Chapter Four

A Lady & a Scoundrel

The golden-haired fury was heading toward him!

Surprised, Thorne noticed his heart skipping a beat, an altogether unexpected reaction. Few things surprised him these days or affected him in a way that would be considered noteworthy. Nevertheless, something about her was different.

While speaking to Lord Hartmore, Thorne had continued to glance in her direction out of the corner of his eye, unable to ignore that almost magnetic pull he felt deep down. There was something about her. Something he had never encountered before. Even from across the room, he knew that something alluring rested in her gaze. He could all but sense her fierce glare, no doubt put there by a sense of loyalty to her friend. If she despised him—and it seemed quite reasonable that she did—then it something had to do with Miss Mortensen.

A part of him realized, that now, there was another reason why he no longer thought it a good idea to marry Miss Mortensen. Still…

“Good evening, Lord Hartmore,” the golden-haired fury greeted Miss Mortensen’s father with a kind smile. “It is a most enjoyable evening, is it not?” Although she kept her gaze fixed upon Lord Hartmore, Thorne thought he saw impatience in the way she stood before them as though she wished to do away with this polite chitchat and address Thorne in a more open and honest way.

Thorne almost chuckled, realizing that without anyone to overhear, this woman was not one to hold her tongue! He had to admit he rather liked that about her.

“Indeed, it is,” Lord Hartmore replied, a hint of annoyance coming to his face at being interrupted in his business negotiations.

Thorne could not help but want to slap him!

A sweet smile came to the golden-haired fury’s face, one that told him she was being the opposite of genuine. “I’m afraid I require your assistance, my lord. You see, Sarah doesn’t seem quite well. A turn about the terrace would do her a world of good. Would you be so kind?”

Thorne listened curiously, wondering if Lord Hartmore would ask why she could not simply take Miss Mortensen for a stroll through the gardens herself. However, the old man did not, although he did look a bit perplexed. Perhaps, once again, it was some kind of societal etiquette Thorne knew little about.

“Certainly. Thank you for alerting me,” Lord Hartmore said although he looked far from pleased. “Lady Christina. Mr. Sharpe.” And with a nod of the head, he strode across the room toward his daughter.

“Lady Christina, is it?” Thorne addressed her the moment Lord Hartmore was no longer within earshot. Why he felt comfortable speaking to her as though they were confidants, he did not know. However, it felt perfectly natural.

Lady Christina turned to face him, her gaze narrowed and the smile upon her face all but absent. “Mr. Sharpe, I presume.”

Thorne laughed. “You presume right. However, I do believe you’ve known my name for far longer than you care to admit. The more interesting question is, why?”

Her gaze narrowed even further as she regarded him, the right corner of her mouth curling upward in a sign of displeasure. “You are most direct, Sir.” From her lips, it sounded like an insult, and it bothered Thorne more than he liked to admit.

“As are you,” he countered, enjoying the dark blue sparks that came to her eyes, proof that at least on some level he affected her as well. “Is it not true that you came here to speak to me?”

Lady Christina chuckled. “How presumptuous of you!” Her brows rose in a daring gesture. “I came here to alert Lord Hartmore to his daughter’s…unease. Nothing more.”

Thorne chuckled. “Is that so? Indeed, here I thought you had only used it as a distraction to rid us of his company.” He cocked a brow at her. “Or am I wrong?”

Her lips thinned. “Us?” she demanded, a highly disapproving tone in her voice. “You speak as though we share confidences when in truth, I only learned your name a moment ago.” Something sparkled in her eyes that momentarily made Thorne’s breath falter in his chest.

They both knew that she was lying. She had learned his name long before today. He could see it in her eyes. Yet she denied it. Why? Was she teasing him? But why would she when the very sight of him seemed to make her blood boil?

“Then, pray tell, why are you here?” he demanded with equal boldness, taking a daring step closer to her. “Why did you seek me out? Is my company so desirable?”

Instead of acting offended, Lady Christina smiled, a brief spark of appreciation flashing in her eyes before she crossed her arms in a defiant gesture. “I must inform you that it is highly untoward of you to speak to a lady in such a way,” she told him with no small measure of condescension. “I assume you are ignorant of society’s ways?”

Thorne grinned at her. “I might be ignorant in some ways,” he said quietly, lowering his head as though he were whispering secrets, “but not in others. Despite my…rustic upbringing, I am quite capable of reading between the lines.” He lifted his brows and held her gaze. “You are stalling. Why did you come here? What is it that you seek? That you hope to uncover?”

A touch of annoyance came to her blue eyes. “Your behavior is most unusual. Has no one ever instructed you on how to speak to a lady? To pretend in order not to offend?”

Despite her chiding words, Thorne got the impression that she was not terribly disappointed with his reply. “Yet you seem to linger in my presence longer than need be, Lady Christina. Why is that? After all, you could simply tell me why you sought me out and then leave.” Again, he cocked an eyebrow at her in challenge.

Her lips thinned, and for a moment, she looked severely tempted to scratch his eyes out. Her nostrils flared, and she glared at him in a way that Thorne found most endearing. “I came here to make out your character,” she finally replied, her gaze sweeping over him as though it would only take one look for her to see to the very core of him and know the person he was.

“And what have you found?” Thorne asked lightly, belatedly realizing that despite the fact that they had only just met her opinion mattered to him. He swallowed hard and waited for her reply.

Again, Lady Christina seemed to survey him, her blue eyes trailing over his features as though wishing to commit them to memory. Thorne could all but feel her gaze like a caress upon his skin, and a shiver danced down his spine. “Well?”

“You are a most unusual man,” Lady Christina remarked, her nose crinkling slightly as her eyes continued to peruse him.

Thorne laughed. “Is that supposed to be a compliment or an insult?”

Her eyes snapped up to meet his, and she glared at him as though chiding him for daring to ask such an inappropriate question. “Why are you here? In London?”

Thorne paused, hesitant to discuss his business dealings, reluctant to stray away from this comfortable banter between them. Though, what else was he to say but the truth? “Among other things, I came in search of a bride.” He waited, looking deep into her eyes, seeing another spark of resistance flash to life.

Her jaw tensed, and she inhaled a slow breath. “And your choice has fallen on my friend?”

Thorne shrugged, pretending to be free of concern in this matter, knowing that it would unsettle her. “The union between us would be most beneficial to both parties, would it not? Is it not precisely how the ton conducts their business?”

Her nostrils flared. “Sarah is not a sheep to be bartered off to the highest bidder,” she hissed under her breath, casting a careful glance around them, ensuring that no one stood too close to overhear. “She’s sweet and kind, and she deserves someone better than the likes of you.”

Thorne gritted his teeth. “The likes of me?” Anger flared in his veins as all the moments of easy dismissal resurfaced, moments when eyes had swept over him but had not seen him, moments when pain had been ignored and suffering had been disregarded. It had not always been his own suffering, but also that of others.

Yet in this moment, it did not matter.

“Common men,” Lady Christina explained as though he did not know. “Men who do not know how to treat a lady. Men who –”

“What precisely have I done,” Thorne demanded, anger now etched into his voice as he leaned closer, “that offended you? Or your friend? In what way have I treated her ill?” Challenge lit up his gaze, and he could see that she was regarding him with new eyes.

“You discussed marriage with her father without even once addressing her,” Lady Christina huffed, now eyeing him with as much disdain as he himself felt in that moment. “You do not even possess the decency to—”

“Is that not how marriage is conducted in your circles?” Thorne demanded, aware that his pulse was quickening with each incremental step he took toward her. “How precisely have I given offense? From what I understand, I have conducted myself in a most appropriate manner.” He grinned at her. “Why then do you object? Why are you so determined to see me as a villain?”

Her teeth gritted together, and a barely audible growl fell from her lips. “You are rude and ill-mannered and—”

“Are you not also?” Thorne teased. “Or would you consider it good manners to judge me in such a way for behaving in the very same fashion as any other man here?”

Her arms unfolded, and he could see her hands balling into fists that she clenched at her sides. Although her eyes still shot daggers at him, no words left her lips.

“Why did you come here?” Thorne inquired, inching close enough to feel a faint brush of her breath against his skin. “You said to make out my character, but that is not all, is it? What is it that you want…from me?” The last two words made his question feel strangely intimate, and he could see the slight widening of her eyes, clearly stating that she had not failed to notice.

Lady Christina inhaled a slow breath. She clearly wished to lash out at him, but held herself back, knowing that if she did so, whatever she wanted from him would be outside of her reach. “I want you to retract your marriage proposal.” The words fell from her lips in one rushed breath.

“Truth be told, I have not yet proposed. I’ve merely entered into negotiations with—”

“Then step away from them,” Lady Christina urged, her fists now trembling with barely concealed eagerness. “Leave London and return to where you came from. You do not belong here, and Sarah does not belong in Manchester.”

Thorne regarded her carefully. “But what then? What if I do as you ask? We both know why Lord Hartmore is more than willing to give me his daughter’s hand in marriage.” His gaze narrowed as it swept over her features. “You are no fool. You know as well as I do that Lord Hartmore has no choice but to barter off his daughter’s hand in marriage. The real question is, why do you object to me so strongly?”

“Sarah does not wish to marry you,” she replied in her haste when it became clear to her that he would not simply comply with her request.

“Is there a gentleman she wishes to marry? A gentleman who also wishes to marry her?” Thorne demanded, enjoying the way she all but fidgeted where she stood. “If that is not the case, then this conversation is moot. Lord Hartmore requires funds, whereas I require a bride of noble birth. This union is of mutual benefit. Again, I ask you, is this not how marriage matters are conducted among your people?”

Lady Christina did not miss the mocking tone in his voice, and the look she gave him could have frozen the seas. “You are a most horrible man,” she exclaimed, returning to insults when all arguments failed her. “I only wish…”

Thorne grinned at her. “You only wish what? That you could take her place?” Where the question had come from, he did not know, but it seemed to make the air around them sizzle with heat and temptation. His pulse quickened, and he saw her eyes widening as she drew in an unsteady breath.

Yes, he would accept her as his bride in a heartbeat.

No questions asked.

But how far was Lady Christina willing to go in order to save her friend? Now that was an extremely interesting question, and Thorne could not help but wish that he knew the answer. He was not fool enough to believe that Fate would grant him such a woman. That somehow he would be meeting not Miss Mortensen, but Lady Christina at the altar.

Still, in that moment, Thorne dared to dream.