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.
"Tina!" 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.
He should have gone to her home in Halstead and courted her slowly. But that wasn't his way. Besides, he had never courted a woman before. He was used to getting what he wanted immediately, and he wanted Christina.
Christina was shaking uncontrollably when she ran back into the drawing room. She could still feel Philip Caxton's lips on hers, his arms holding her pinned against him, the hardness between his legs pressing against her. So that was how a man kissed a woman. She had always wondered what it would be like. She hadn't expected the strange feeling that Philip Caxton had aroused in her: a feeling that both frightened and excited her.
Lucidly she had remembered what her mother once told her: if a man accosted her and she wished to get away, pretend to faint and then kick him as hard as she could. It had worked, and she thanked her mother silently for her advice.
Christina calmed herself while her brother went for her cape. She told him she had a splitting headache and wished to leave immediately. When he came back they left for their carriage.
Looking up, she saw Philip Caxton on the balcony watching them leave. To think the man wanted her and had asked her to marry him knowing she disliked him of all the nerve, the outright audacity!
Now that she was safely away from Philip Caxton, she was furious. She had met him only yesterday, and today he had asked her to marry him—without one word of love. He declared only that he wanted her. He was even more impulsive than Peter or Sir Charles. They, at least, were gentlemen.
Thinking about it made her angrier. He was no gentleman! He acted like a barbarian! She wanted to go right back to that balcony and slap his arrogant face again.
Christina's feelings showed on her face, and John, who had been scrutinizing her quietly, finally interrupted her thoughts.
"Crissy, what on earth is the matter with you? You look fit to be tied. I thought you had a headache."
Focusing her attention on John, she absentmindedly put her hand to her forehead as if to feel for a pain, then burst forth heatedly.
"Headache! Yes, I had a headache, but I left him back on the balcony. John, that insufferable cad asked me to marry him."
"Who did?" John asked calmly.
"Philip Caxton, that's who! And he had the effrontery to kiss me—right there on the balcony."
John was amused. "It seems, dear sister, that you have encountered a man who knows what he wants and goes after it. You say he asked you to marry him, and after only one day's acquaintance? At least Browne and Buttler knew you a little longer than that. It looks as if Philip Caxton truly wants you."
Remembering his words vividly, Christina stormed more. "Yes, he wants me. He even told me so, with no mention of love—just lust!"
John laughed. It wasn't often that he saw his sister so angry. If Caxton had tried to molest Crissy, John wouldn't be so amused, and he would have had to call the man out
But he could hardly blame Caxton for a kiss and a proposal of marriage. He would have done the same if he had found a woman as beautiful as Crissy.
"You know, Crissy, more times than not, desire does come before love. Had Caxton said he was in love with you, it probably would have been a lie. What he did state was the truth—that he wanted you. When a man finds a woman he can't live without, then he knows he's in love. I believe that love has to grow slowly and takes more time than just two days, or even two weeks. However, it seems that Philip Caxton was prepared to love you, since he proposed marriage. Instead of getting so angry, you might have taken it as a compliment."
Calming down slowly, Christina leaned back on the seat and stared moodily off into the distance.
"Well, it doesn't matter, anyway. I'll never see Philip Caxton again. I should never have come to London in the first place. The men here don't know their own minds. They all just compete for attention: each one boasting that he's better than the next And men like Philip Caxton think anything can be theirs for the asking. This isn't the life for me. I guess I'm just a country girl at heart." Christina took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Oh, John, I'm glad we're going home."