Johanna Lindsey - Captive Bride

Paul couldn't understand Philip's attitude. He knew Philip could be charming and polite if he chose, for he treated Mary with the greatest respect. But Philip just didn't give a damn what society thought of him. He refused to play the gentleman, no matter how it embarrassed Paul.

Philip had arrived last night from a month's stay at their estate in the country. He had uncommon control of his temper, but went into a rage when Paul told him of this night's ball.

"If you are planning on foisting some more of your pert little society misses on me, I swear I'll leave this town for good!" Philip had stormed. "How many times must I tell you, Paul, that I don't want a wife! I have no desire to have a frilly-skirted, obnoxious woman underfoot and making demands on my time. I have better things to do than contend with a woman." Philip paced back and forth vigorously. "If I want a woman, then I'll take her, but only for a night of pleasure with no strings attached. I don't want to be tied down. Damn it all, when will you get that through your head?"

"But what if you should someday fall in love—as I have? Then will you marry?" Paul had ventured, knowing his brother's bark was worse than his bite.

"If that day ever comes, then of course I'll marry. But don't get your hopes up, little brother, for I've seen what this town has to offer. The day will never come."

Well, Philip might be surprised at the ball tonight, Paul thought, smiling to himself. He jumped out of his chair and ran up the stairs three at a time. He was in a jubilant mood as he knocked loudly on his brother's door and stuck his head inside. Philip was just sitting up on the bed, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"It's time to get dressed, old man," Paul said mischievously. "And wear your best regalia. You want to charm all the ladies, don't you?" Paul closed the door swiftly as a pillow slammed against it. He laughed boisterously as he went down the hall to his room.

"What's so amusing, Paul?" Mary asked as he came into their room still laughing.

"I think Philip will meet his downfall this night, and he won't even know it," Paul answered.

"Whatever are you talking about?"

"Nothing, my sweet—nothing at all!" he exclaimed. He picked her up and swung her round and round.

Philip Caxton was annoyed. He had had an argument with his brother only yesterday about women and marriage, and now Paul was at it again.

"Look at all the beauties you can choose from in this ballroom," his brother was saying with a twinkle in his green eyes. "It's about time you settled down and gave the Caxtons an heir."

Paul was going too far. Philip wondered at the game he was playing. "Do you expect me to pick a wife from one of these simpleminded young ladies of society?" he said sarcastically. "There's not one here I would care to invite into my bedroom."

"Why aren't you dancing, Philip?" Mary said, coming up to them. "Shame on you, Paul, for keeping your brother from all these pretty young things." She put her arm on Paul's.

It always amused Philip when Mary referred to girls her own age as young things. Mary was only eighteen years old herself, and very lovely, with big cat-like eyes and light brown hair. Paul had married her only last year.

Philip replied teasingly, "When I find a maiden as beautiful as you are, my dear, I will be more than happy to waltz the night away."

Just then Philip saw Christina standing only three feet away. She was a vision! He didn't know a woman could be that beautiful!

She glanced at him before turning away, but in that moment her image was etched in his mind forever. Her eyes fascinated him—dark rings of sea-blue surrounding light-blue-green centers. Her hair was a shimmering golden mass of curls, with a few loose curls dangling softly against her neck and temples. Her nose was straight and narrow—her lips, soft and alluring and made to be kissed.

She wore a dark-sapphire-blue-satin ball-gown. Her soft rounded breasts swelled above the de'colletage, and light-blue ribbons emphasized her slim waist. She was perfection.

Philip's gaze was interrupted by Paul's hand waving back and forth before bis eyes. He finally looked at his grinning brother.

"Have you gone daft?" Paul laughed. "Or is it Miss Wakefield who has caught your eye? Why do you think I insisted you come tonight? She lives with her brother in Halstead and is here for the season. Would you like to meet her?"

Philip smiled. "Do you have to ask?"

Christina noticed a man staring rudely at her. She had overheard him earlier insulting all the ladies in the room. Perhaps he was the same man whose bad manners were the talk of London.

She turned away when she saw him coming toward her. She had to admit he was the handsomest man she had ever seen, but reminded herself that she had lived a secluded life and had met very few.

"Excuse me, John," she said to her brother, "but it is extremely warm in here. Could we take a turn in the garden?" She took a step, but was stopped by a voice behind her.

"Miss Wakefield."

Christina had no choice but to turn around. She looked into a pair of forest-green eyes with hundreds of yellow flecks in them. They held her spellbound. It seemed an eternity before she heard voices again.

"Miss Wakefield, we met in the park yesterday—you mentioned you would be attending this ball. You do remember, don't you?"

Christina finally turned to the tall young man and his wife. "Yes, I remember. It was Paul and Mary Caxton, was it not?"

"That's right," Paul said. "I would like to introduce you to my brother, who is also visiting the city. Miss Christina and Mr. John Wakefield—my brother, Philip Caxton."

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.