Erik felt his anger rise when Hoxford leaned in to whisper something in Kristine’s ear. The man was far too bold, and yet he would make an excellent match for Kristine. He came from an old family. He was tall and broad-shouldered and handsome. And discreet in his liaisons.
Taking a deep breath, Erik forced himself to relax. One of the reasons he had agreed to this elaborate affair was so that Kristine could get better acquainted not only with her neighbors, but with possible suitors.
He did not join the others at dinner. One of the advantages of the buffet was that he did not have to sit at the head of the table. There was no formal seating. Some of his guests sat at the dining table, others wandered into the parlor or the library, or found seating in the gardens.
Grabbing a glass of wine, Erik sought the darkness beyond the house. Dark gray clouds were gathering overhead. He could smell the moisture in the air. There would be rain before morning. He wondered how many of his guests would look at the weather and decide to spend the night.
He drained his glass and tossed it aside. Laughter and music drifted on the breeze as he wandered through the gardens. He lifted his head, sniffing the wind, then swore as he realized what he was doing. The beast within him was growing stronger. More and more he found himself behaving in feral ways, found himself feeling hampered, confined, by his clothing, found himself asking Mrs. Grainger to serve his roast beef rare instead of well-done.
He lifted his left hand and removed his glove, staring at the animal-like paw as if, by doing so, he could make it disappear. And then he lifted his right hand and wiggled his fingers. What a wondrous thing a hand was, he mused. He could hold a glass, pick a flower for his wife, caress her warm, soft skin. . ..
He closed his eyes as pain ripped through him. It was constant now, the pain that throbbed through his body as it fought the transformation, the anguish of knowing he was running out of time. And the worst pain of all, that of knowing that he was going to lose Kristine. He had known her such a short time, yet he loved her beyond all reason. He longed to tell her so, to hold her in his arms and pour out his love. It took all his willpower to keep the words locked inside. Once said, they could not be taken back. It was better for her to go on thinking that all he wanted from her was an heir. She knew he was fond of her, but there was a vast difference between fondness and what he felt. Better for them both if the words remained unsaid.
With a sigh, he turned back toward the house. He was the host; it was his duty to mingle with his guests.
As he neared the back of the castle, he heard whispered voices. And then he saw a couple standing near one of the hedges. Young lovers. The thought filled him with a bittersweet longing, and then, catching Kristine’s scent on the air, he felt a surge of anger rise up within.
On silent feet, he padded toward them.
“You are most fair, Lady Trevayne,” Hoxford was murmuring. “Truly, you are the most beautiful woman here this evening.”
“You mustn’t flatter me so, Lord Hoxford,” Kristine protested.
“I speak no flattery,” Hoxford replied. “Only the truth.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. “Your skin is like the finest satin, your hair shines like the sun.”
Kristine tried to withdraw her hand from his. “Lord Hoxford, you must not say such things to me. It isn’t proper.”
“Not proper to compliment my hostess?” Hoxford laughed softly as he drew Kristine into his arms. “Don’t be absurd.”
A low growl rose in Erik’s throat as Hoxford kissed Kristine. She struggled for a moment, then stood passive and unresponsive in the young man’s arms.
Hoxford released her immediately, his expression curious. “Do you find me so repulsive?” he asked quietly.
“No, my lord. I am flattered by your words and your interest, but I am, after all, a married woman.”
“You take your vows seriously, then?”
“Yes, very seriously. I would do nothing to shame my husband, or myself.”
Hoxford nodded. “My apologies, my lady. I hope you will not think the less of me for my impetuousness.”
Kristine shook her head. She knew that flirting was to be expected, knew that many women, forced to marry men they did not love, sought affairs. She was not one of them. Her marriage might be a strange one, but she had no wish to end it, no wish to cuckold Erik.
Hoxford offered her his arm. “Come, I’ll walk you back to the house.”
“Thank you, but I think I shall stay outside and take the air for a few minutes,” Kristine said.
Hoxford bowed over her hand. “As you wish, Lady Trevayne. Again, my apologies for my behavior. I pray I have not offended you.”
“Apology accepted, Lord Hoxford.”
“We can remain friends, then?”
Kristine smiled. “Of course.”
With a nod, Hoxford returned to the house.
Kristine watched him walk away, her emotions in turmoil. He was a very handsome young man. At another time, before Erik had entered her life, she would have found young Hoxford most attractive, would have been extraordinarily pleased by his admiration. In truth, she had found his kiss quite pleasant, though it lacked the fire and excitement of Erik’s kisses. Erik. She wished he was here with her now, wished he would take her in his arms. . ..
She whirled around, suddenly aware that she was no longer alone. As if conjured by her desire, he was there before her, a dark silhouette in the blackness of the night.
“My lord,” she murmured. “You startled me.”
“Indeed?” He closed the distance between them, until they were only a hand span apart. “What are you doing out here, alone?”
“Nothing. I . . .” Her gaze slid away from his. How much had he seen? How much had he heard? She felt a wave of heat sweep into her cheeks. “I wasn’t alone.”
“No?”
She shook her head. “Lord Hoxford was with me.”
“A fine young man,” Erik remarked, his voice cool.
“Yes.”
“He’s to your liking, then?”
“Yes. But only as a friend, my lord. You are my husband.”
“And if you were free, would you accept Hoxford’s suit?”
“Erik, my lord . . .” She couldn’t keep the fine edge of panic from her voice. Had she displeased him in some way? Was he planning to put her aside? “What are you saying?”
“Nothing, my sweet.” He drew her into his arms and crushed her close. “Nothing.”
“You don’t think that Lord Hoxford . . . that I . . .” She looked up at Erik, wishing she could see his face.