Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Will you do me a favor, Alistair, and not point that gun right at my face?” Theodore winced and dodged his head out of the way of Alistair’s pointed rifle.
“Will you do me a favor and not walk directly into my line of sight?” Alistair responded coolly, keeping his rifle aimed.
“It would not be a problem if you didn’t aim it like a blind man walking down a dark alley.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means, what are you even pointing it at?” Theodore snorted. “Afraid the tree is going to suddenly attack you?”
“I heard something!”
“The only sound I hear is your runaway heart thumping inside your chest,” Theodore drawled. “We’re hunting swallows, Alistair, not bears. There’s no need to be scared.”
“I am not scared.” Alistair swung around to confront Theodore, bringing his rifle with him.
“Wow!” Theodore jumped out of the way again. “Will you put that thing down? Christopher?” Theodore found Christopher trailing behind them. “Care to weigh in?”
“Not really,” Christopher said absently.
What I want is to return to last evening and exercise better self-control. What I want is to be able to go back in time and deny Rose’s request to marry me, saving me from being in this position in the first place!
Hindsight was a strange bedfellow. When Christopher had agreed today to go hunting with his friends, he had thought it would be a good idea. A chance to get out of the house, away from his wife, and clear his mind.
Frustratingly, no sooner had he and his two friends arrived on the outskirts of the forest than Christopher came to realize that what he needed wasn’t to go hunting with his friends, but to be alone with his thoughts so that he might consider what he did and then find some way to rationalize it.
That’s what he was trying to do right now.
Alistair and Theodore were happy to take the lead as they trekked through the dense forestry, slowly tracking a flight of swallows, while Christopher stayed back, silent, unpacking the previous night’s events in painstaking detail.
Unfortunately, the more he went over what happened between himself and Rose, the more Christopher came to realize how much trouble he was in.
Trouble that started long before last night, and I’m the fool for thinking that I could handle it.
“That’s it.” Theodore let the rifle go limp by his side as he turned to face Christoper. He wore a scowl that was neither angry nor worried. “Are you going to tell us what the matter is with you? Or do we need to guess?”
Christopher looked away. “Nothing is the matter.”
“Ha!”
“He is right, Christopher,” Alistair agreed. “While you are not ordinarily known as a paradigm of good conversation, you are never this morose. What is the matter with you?”
“I told you, nothing is the matter,” he snapped, a little too aggressively.
Typically, both friends noticed this outburst because it was very unlike Christopher to lose his cool. They glanced at one another, worry painting their faces.
“Oh dear,” Theodore said. “It’s that bad?”
“What happened?” Alistair added. “Did someone die?”
Christopher wanted to deny that anything was wrong and finish this little hunting expedition as quickly as possible.
He wanted his friends to go on ignoring him, so that he could disappear inside his head and continue to wallow in pity and confusion.
He wanted so many things, none of which he was going to get.
Ordinarily, Christopher would never reveal his emotional distress to his friends, because that was dangerous to do. But times were far from ordinary…
“I kissed her,” he confessed, letting his shoulders slump in defeat. “Last evening, I… I kissed her.”
“Kissed who?” Theodore asked.
“Who do you think?” he said. “My wife.”
Both friends looked at one another again, neither appearing particularly shocked by this admission. The shock they wore was that Christopher thought it was something worth worrying about in the first place.
“And might I ask, why that is an issue?” Theodore asked slowly. “I mean, if it was another woman you had kissed –”
“Of course it was not,” Christopher snapped.
“Then what is the matter?” He laughed and looked at Alistair. “Am I losing my mind here, or is this the exact opposite of a problem?”
“I agree,” Alistair said. “I don’t understand what the concern is?”
“The concern,” Christopher spoke carefully. “Is my marriage to Rose not supposed to be one where we kiss each other. It is not supposed to be one where we want to. It is a marriage of convenience only, which you are both aware of.”
“So, it has grown into something more,” Theodore shrugged. “This is good news.”
“It is not.”
“Christopher…” Alistair approached him and rested a hand on his shoulder. “It is not such a bad thing to care for one’s own wife. That is sort of the point of marriage, is it not?”
“Be grateful she is so attractive,” Theodore concurred. “I know many a man who kisses his wife, even if she has a face like an old boot.”
“Theodore,” Alistair sighed. “Is that necessary?”
“What? It’s true.”
“It is still not polite.”
“Polite, he says,” Theodore snorts. “I’d rather be impolite than one who mistakes trees for flocks of birds.”
“I did not mistake anything!”
“So, you are just that lousy of a shot then? Good to know.”
The two men began to argue, which gave Christopher a chance to descend back into madness as his world and everything he knew crumbled around him.
On the surface, they were correct, and this was not nearly the problem that Christopher believed it to be. So what if he kissed his wife? So what if she kissed him back? And so what if he enjoyed it?
I did enjoy it too. Dammit, how wonderful those few seconds were. Giving in to temptation, accepting who I am and what I want, tasting my wife and feeling her melt in my arms in ways that have haunted me since we first met…
As good as it was, it was just as dangerous.
Christopher did not mean to become irate at her when she returned home. While he was indeed worried about her safety – a problem in itself – he had planned on simply asking that the next time she was running late, she send ahead.
A calm conversation was what he expected, and then she walked inside.
He had lost control. For reasons that he could not fully explain, his temper had flared, and his anger had risen, and before he knew what was happening, he was shouting his worry at her.
It was brought on from a place of concern, but it created heat between them; it shattered the walls that he had spent so long building around himself, and the next thing he knew, they were kissing.
Christopher knew what would happen next if he allowed it.
If he continued down this path, he would slowly forget who he had spent his entire life trying to become.
Rose would see his true side. She would ask questions that he did not have answers to.
And Christopher… the truth will come out.
After which, I cannot say what might happen.
“Christopher?” Theodore was saying as he clicked his fingers at him. “Are you there?”
Christopher shook his head and snapped himself out of his funk. “Yes? What?”
“We were just saying that it might be a good idea to embrace this side of yourself. You know, one that possesses a heart and even a soul.”
Christopher narrowed his eyes. “Funny.”
“We are being serious,” Alistair said. “We have always said that you would do well to have another by your side. Family is our meaning.” He looked pointedly at Christopher, his meaning clear.
Christopher did not have a family. At least not one that he was close to.
His mother had died when he was six. His father had died when he was a teenager.
His only living relative was his aunt, and Christopher’s reasons for not wanting to see her were directly related to his desire to avoid drawing attention to himself.
He sensed that if he did see his aunt, that would raise a whole host of problems, and then his feelings for Rose would be the least of his concerns.
“Perhaps,” he offered his friends, not willing to commit to the idea.
“Think on it,” Alistair said, again giving his shoulder a squeeze. “And just know, it is not such a bad thing to care for your wife. If anything, we encourage it.”
“If only to see you smile once in a while,” Theodore joined in. “I can count on two hands how many times you have and, honestly, if it weren’t for how much of a sop Alistair was, I’d have no choice but to worry about your mental health, certain something was wrong with you.”
“I’ll pretend I did not hear that,” Alistair said dryly.
“I was not whispering,” Theodore shot back.
“I will think about it,” Christopher said. “But right now, if it is not too much to ask, I would very much like to shoot something.” Christopher lifted his rifle and gripped it with both hands. “Shall we?”
“Ah, that is more like it!” Theodore crooned.
Christopher did not feel like hunting. But it was better than speaking to his friends about his feelings, and his marriage, and pretty much anything. So, together, the three men waded deeper into the forest as Christopher did his best not to recall time and time again the events of last evening.
Easier said than done. Thoughts of his wife plagued him constantly, and when they did, a warmth spread through his body, and an eagerness to return home and see her stabbed at him.
He was changing. He could not stop it. And that, Christopher knew too well, was nowhere near as good as it sounded. Not by half.