“I saw enough of the need in your face when you stared at her last night!” His father’s face grew thunderous. “I saw lust! For your sister. It is unseemly that you would look at Callie in such a lustful manner. I observed you last night, and you will treat her as your sister at all times.”
Graham’s hand tightened on the reins and anger scythed through his heart. “She is not my damn sister! And I am certain you saw more than desire, father, because I feel much more for her than mere lust.”
His father stiffened. “By God, you’ve already ruined her.”
Graham felt the tip of his ears heating and scowled. “She…she is not ruined.”
“The hours in the cabin,” his father said through gritted teeth. “Whatever happened will never occur again. I will have your word as my son and a gentleman.”
He stared at his father, a heavy boulder settling against his chest. “And if I cannot give you my word to stay away from her?”
“Then I will cancel the wedding with Viscountess Danby, and you can go and pursue her daughter.”
Graham scrubbed a hand over his face. “Father, this is ridiculous—”
“The scandal of the father marrying the wife and the son dallying with his stepsister is not something to dismiss lightly,” his father said, his eyes hard and unforgiving. “Do you love her?”
The words slammed into Graham and robbed him of speech. Did he love her? He had no idea if this all-consuming desire he possessed for Callie was love. Was this love? This burning need to cherish, protect, and make love her always. “Father, I—”
“That is what I thought,” his father said tightly. “You will claim her as your sister and nothing else. If that is a problem for you my son, you will keep your distance until you have learned to govern your damn self!”
Anger snapped through his veins, for he had been certain in the long and lonely night in his room, that he wanted her with every breath in his body. He was falling for her…possibly in love with her.
“By God, she is not my sister,” he said with raw intensity. “And I will never see her in such a manner, and it is ridiculous to expect it of me.”
“What are you saying?” his father demanded, fisting his hands at his side.
“I want her…” Graham whispered. “Father…I want her more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life.”
His father’s eyes darkened with pain and ire. “Well, you cannot have her. It is wrong that you would even think it. I am to marry her mother in a few hours. You will become siblings through marriage. Can you imagine the scandal such a thing would cause? Everyone would repudiate such connections. The father marrying the mother and the son marrying the daughter of the mother. It will be seen as incestuous!”
“Do not be a damn fool!” Graham snapped, even though he detected a kernel of truth in his father’s assessment. “Since when did you give a damn about what Society thinks?”
“There are many other women you can take as your mistress—”
“I do not mean to use her,” Graham replied, raking his fingers through his hair. “Do you think so low of my character, that I would dishonor her in such a crude
manner? I want to court her…eventually, marry her.”
His father was silent for a long time, then he said, “I will never consent to it.”
“I do not need your approval.”
Anger flushed along his father’s cheekbones. “You’ve only been aware of her for several damnable days. You cannot be certain of your feelings, and I am certain whatever they are, they will fade. There will be no scandal, nor will I cause Amelia any discomfort! And I am also fairly certain Miss Callie is indifferent to you! By God, I am happy…Amelia is happy, a state neither of us has been in years. I will not have you marring that joy for either of us with scandal or speculation! I’ll have her mother ship that girl away if that is what it will take.”
Then he turned around and rode away in self-righteous fury, leaving Graham feeling hollowed and empty.
Chapter 11
The Holliwell Manor Chapel had been constructed by an earlier ancestor during King Charles II’s reign. Built on the edge of the estate, it had served the village until they had built a new and larger church in the last century. Now its use was scant; although the local vicar held an occasional service there during the year. Most of those services were to commemorate former members of the Wynter family who had gone to their eternal rest.
It was a small stone building with narrow windows, and despite the staff’s best efforts to warm the interior, it was still chilly when the house party guests drove down to the chapel to observe the nuptials of Robert Wynter, Earl of Deerwood who would marry Amelia Middleton, Viscountess of Danby. The Manor’s staff had been busy decorating the interior with greenery and hothouse flowers while trying to drive out the seeping cold within the old building. The chapel already was half full as the news of the earl’s sudden wedding had spread through the local village, so most of his tenants and neighbors with their families had appeared uninvited to share in their lord’s joy.
Yet he was not joyful. For conflicting emotions tore through Graham.
The memory of the fight he had with his father a couple hours ago had his heart icing over.
Do I love you, Callie?