Captive Bride (3 page)

Philip Caxton shook John's hand, then kissed hers lightly, sending shivers up her arm.

"Miss Wakefield, I would be more than honored if you would consent to have the next dance with me," Philip Caxton said, without letting go of her hand.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Caxton, but I was just leaving for a stroll with my brother. It's so stifling hot in here." Why was she explaining herself to this man?

"Then you must let me escort you, with your brother's permission, of course." He looked at John.

"Certainly, Mr. Caxton. I have just seen an acquaintance I would like to speak with, so you will be doing me a service."

Oh John, how could you, she thought angrily. But Philip Caxton was already leading her through the crowd toward the doors. When they stepped outside, Christina immediately withdrew her hand from his. They walked a few paces before she heard his deep voice again.

"Christina, your name is enchanting. Was your excuse of the heat a feminine way of getting me outside alone?"

She turned to face him very slowly, with her hands on her hips and sparks flying from her eyes. "Why, you insufferable cad! Your conceit overwhelms me. Are you quite sure this simpleminded young lady of society is worthy enough to invite into your bedroom?"

Christina missed the shocked look on Philip's face when she turned and stalked back into the ballroom. She also missed the slow grin that replaced the shocked look.

Ill be damned, he thought, shaking his head. She's no simpleminded young lady. She's a little spitfire. Damned if she didn't tell me off. He closed his eyes and saw her before him, and he knew he must have her. But he certainly was off to a bad start, for she had taken an immediate dislike to him. Well, he wouldn't give up. One way or another, he would have her.

Philip walked back into the ballroom to find Christina safely with her brother. He watched her all night, but she managed to avoid meeting his eyes. He decided to keep his distance, for there was no point making matters worse than they already were. He would give her a chance to calm down tonight, and would start anew tomorrow.

Chapter 4

The sun was high over the trees when Christina finally crawled from her bed. She put on her slippers and robe and walked over to the window, wondering what time it was. She remembered how she had tossed and turned all night after coming home from the ball.

She kept seeing those unusual eyes staring at her insolently from that handsome face. Philip Caxton was taller than most men, more than a foot taller than her five feet, four inches, and lean and muscular. He had black hair, and a deep rich tan that stood him apart from the lily-white London dandies.

What's the matter with you, Christina, she scolded herself. Why can't you get that man out of your thoughts? He insulted you, but you continue to think about him. Well, you won't be seeing Philip Caxton again if you can help it.

She threw off her robe and slippers and took out one of the new street dresses from her wardrobe. After she was attired to her taste, she descended the stairs to look for her brother.

Christina walked into the dining room to find Mrs. Douglas and one of the downstairs maids clearing away what looked like the remains of lunch.

"Why, Miss Christina, we were beginning to wonder if you had taken ill. Would you be caring for some breakfast? Or perhaps some lunch would be more to your liking?" Mrs. Douglas said.

Christina smiled as she sat down. "No, thank you, Mrs. Douglas. Some toast and tea will be fine. Where is everyone?"

"Well, Mr. John said he had some errands to run, and left just before you came down, miss," Mrs. Douglas said as she poured Christina a cup of tea. "And Mr. and Mrs. Yeats are taking an afternoon nap." The maid came in with a plate of toast and jams.

"I almost forgot, Miss Christina," said Mrs. Douglas, "there's been a gentleman come round to see you this morning. He's a persistent one—come three times already. A Mr. Caxton, I believe." She was interrupted by a knock at the door. "That must be him again."

Christina was annoyed. "Well, if it is the same gentleman, or any other, tell him I am feeling poorly and won't be receiving callers today."

"Very well, miss. But this Mr. Caxton's an awfully handsome gent," Mrs. Douglas replied before she left to answer the door.

She came back shortly, shaking her head. "It was Mr. Caxton again. He said to tell you, miss, that he's sorry you're feeling ill, and he hopes you'll be better tomorrow."

John and she were returning home tomorrow, so she wouldn't have to see Mr. Caxton again. She missed the country, and she missed her daily rides on her stallion, Dax. She would be glad to be home.

Dax and Princess had been born at the same time, and her father had given Princess to her for a birthday present. But Princess was white and gentle, while Dax was a fiery black colt. So Christina had coaxed her father into giving her Dax instead, promising to train him to be gentle.

But Dax was gentle only for Christina. She laughed aloud when she remembered John trying to ride Dax two years ago. The stallion would allow no one on his back but Christina. At home, she could soon forget about that rude Philip Caxton, and Peter Browne, and Sir Charles Buttler.

Christina heard the front door open and close, and John appeared in the doorway.

"So you finally managed to pull yourself out of bed. I waited for you this morning, but gave up at noon." John leaned against the doorframe. "I ran into Tom and Anne Shadwell while I was out. He was in my regiment, you remember. They have invited us for dinner tonight, along with a few of their friends. Can you be ready to leave by six?"

"I suppose so, John."

"I also met Mr. Caxton outside. He said he had called for you, but you weren't feeling well. Is anything the matter?"

"No. I just didn't want to see anyone today," she replied.

"Well, we'll be leaving tomorrow, so today is your last chance to find a worthy husband," John teased.

"Really, John! You know that's not why I came to town. The last thing I want is to be tied down and enslaved by wifely duties. When I find a man who will treat me as an equal, then perhaps I shall consider marriage."

John laughed, "I warned father that giving you an education would be your downfall. What man will want a wife who's as smart as he?"

"If all men are so weak and timid, I will never marry— and be content!"

"I can't say I would pity the man who wins your heart,

Crissy," said John. "It will make a most interesting marriage." Then he left.

Christina sat thinking over what John had said. She doubted she would ever find the kind of love that would make her happy: the kind of love her father and mother had had for each other. Theirs had been the perfect marriage until they died four years ago. John and she had grown even closer since their deaths.

Then, last year, John purchased a commission in Her Majesty's Army, and was now on leave awaiting further orders .Christina suddenlydeterminedto gowith him wherever he was sent. She would miss Dax and Wakefield, but she would miss her brother more.

She hoped John wouldn't be sent too far away. He didn't plan to make the army his career, but he wanted to do his part for his country before settling down. They would be at Wakefield tomorrow, and soon they would be leaving again. She hoped it wouldn't be too soon.

Chistina went upstairs to order a bath. She loved leisurely baths. They relaxed her and improved her frame of mind, just as riding did.

Christina decided to take special care with her attire, since this would be her last night in London. She chose a dark-burgundy evening dress and had Mary pile her blond curls into an elaborate new style. She arranged blood-red rubies in her hair and clasped a matching necklace around her neck. Her mother had left her rubies, sapphires, and emeralds to Christina. The diamonds and pearls were for John to give his wife when he married. Mother had told her once that her complexion and hair were too fair to wear diamonds, and Christina quite agreed.

Christina admired her reflection in the mirror. She loved to wear pretty clothes and jewelry. She knew she was pretty, but she couldn't believe she was as beautiful as everyone was fond of telling her. Her hair was such a light blond color that her high white forehead seemed to merge with her hairline. However, she was happy with her figure. Her breasts were full and perfect in shape, and her hips were slim, accentuating her long legs.

A knock at the door interrupted Christina's primping. John called from outside, "If you are ready, Crissy, I thought we might drive through the park one last time before going to dinner."

Opening the door, she saw John's admiring gaze. "I just have to get my cape and we can be off," she replied gaily.

"You are beautiful tonight, Crissy, but you are always beautiful."

"You're such a flatterer, John, but I like it," she teased. "Shall we go?"

Christina and John took a leisurely drive through Regent's Park before stopping before a lovely town house on Eustin Street. Tom and Anne Shadwell met them at the door, and John introduced them to Christina. Anne Shadwell was the smallest woman Christina had ever seen. She looked like a china doll, with her black hair and eyes and white complexion. Her husband was a big man like John, with rugged features.

"John, you're the last to arrive. My other guests are in the drawing room," Tom Shadwell said as he led the way.

When they entered the drawing room, Christina couldn't help but see him. He was the tallest person in the room. Oh damn, she thought, he would spoil her last evening in London!

Philip Caxton saw Christina as soon as she entered the room. She turned away with contempt when she saw him. Well, he didn't expect an easy conquest. She had seemed to hate him last night.

It had been sheer luck running into John Wakefield mis afternoon and learning from him that he and his sister would be here tonight. Paul knew Tom Shadwell and was able to get Philip and himself an invitation.

Philip also learned from John Wakefield that this was their last night in London, so he had to work fast. He hoped that Christina wouldn't be too affronted by his boldness, but he had no choice other than trying to win her over tonight. He would much rather take Christina to his home and make her his wife whether she protested or not, in the manner of his father's people. But he knew he couldn't do that, not here in England. He had to try to win her affections the civilized way.

He sighed, cursing the lack of time. But perhaps Christina Wakefield was just playing hard to get. After all, young women came to London to look for husbands. And he wasn't such a bad catch. But still, with only one day's acquaintance, the odds were against him. Damn, why hadn't he met her sooner?

Anne Shadwell drew Christina toward Philip. "Miss Wakefield, I would like to introduce—"

She was cut off abruptly.

"We've met," Christina said contemptuously.

Anne Shadwell looked startled, but Philip made an arrogantly graceful bow, took Christina's arm firmly, and walked her out onto the balcony. She resisted, but he was sure she wouldn't cause a scene.

When they reached the railing, she whirled to face him defiantly. Her eyes sparkled wildly, and her voice was cold and heavy with contempt.

"Really, Mr. Caxton! I thought I made myself quite clear last night, but since you don't seem to understand, let me enlighten you. I don't like you. You are a rude, conceited man, and I find you quite intolerable. Now if you will excuse me, I am going back to join my brother." She turned to leave, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her back to him.

"Christina, wait," he demanded huskily, forcing her to look into his dark eyes.

"I really don't think we have anything to say to each other, Mr. Caxton. And please refrain from using my first name." She turned to leave again, but Philip still grasped her hand in his. She faced him once more, stamping her foot in fury.

"Let go of my hand!" she demanded.

"Not until you've heard what I have to say, Tina," he answered, pulling her closer to him.

"Tinal" she glared at him. "How dare—"

"I dare anything I damn well please. Now shut up and listen to me." He was amused at the disbelief written on her lovely face. "I spoke rudely about the young ladies last night simply to quiet my matchmaking brother. I never wanted to marry until I first saw you. Tina, I want you. I would be honored if you would consent to be my wife. I would give you anything you want—jewels, beautiful gowns, my estates."

She was looking at him in a most unusual way. She opened her mouth to say something, but the words wouldn't come out And then he felt the sting of her hand across his cheek.

"I have never been so insulted in my—"

But Philip didn't let her finish. He gathered her in his arms and silenced her words with a deep, penetrating kiss. He held her tightly against him, feeling her breasts pressed against his chest, crushing the breath from her body. She was struggling to free herself, but her efforts only increased his desire.

Then, unexpectedly, Christina went limp in his arms and threw him off guard. Philip thought she had fainted but winced when he felt a sharp pain in his shin. He released her instantly to grab his leg, and when he looked up, Christina was running into the drawing room. He saw her go to her brother, who left to get her cape and say something to their host Then John escorted his sister out of the room.

Philip could still feel her lips on his. His desire had not yet ebbed as he turned to face the street and saw Christina and her brother enter their carriage and drive off. He watched until they were out of sight, then went to find Paul and ask him to make Ms excuses to Tom Shadwell. He was in no mood to suffer through dinner.

Paul started to protest, but Philip was already on his way out of the drawing room.

He should have known better, Philip told himself. He had pleaded with her like a fool. Well, that would be the last time. He'd never explained himself to a woman before, and he never would again. To think he actually thought to win her in one night. She was not some scullery maid who would jump at the chance to be rescued from drudgery. Christina was a lady born to luxury. She didn't need the wealth he could give her.