Captive Bride
ByJohanna Lindsey
1
The weather was pleasantly warm on this early spring day in the year 1883. The slightest of breezes played daintily with the great oak trees that lined the long driveway leading to Wakefield Manor. Two fine white steeds attached to an open carriage stood breathing hard before the huge, two-story mansion.
Inside, Tommy Huntington paced fretfully back and forth across the large drawing room with its gold-brocade furniture, waiting impatiently for Christina Wakefield to come downstairs. Tommy had rushed over to see her after finally reaching a decision concerning her, but now he was getting nervous.
Damn it, she never used to take this long, he mused as he finally stopped pacing and stood before the window looking out at the Wakefields' vast estate, not until she started wearing dresses and putting her hair up. Now every time he came to see her, he ended up waiting a half hour or more before she would join him.
Tommy was having second thoughts about what he wanted to tell her, when two soft hands slipped over his eyes, and he could feel Christina's breasts pressed against his back.
"Guess who?" she whispered playfully in his ear.
Oh God, he wished she wouldn't do that anymore. It had been fine when they were children growing up together, but lately her nearness was driving him crazy with desire.
He turned to face her now, and was enchanted by her uncommon beauty. She was wearing a form-fitting dark-blue-velvet dress with white lace adorning a high collar and long sleeves, and her golden hair was piled in countless ringlets about her head.
"I wish you wouldn't stare so, Tommy. You've been doing that more and more of late, and it makes me nervous. I would think I had dirt on my face if I didn't know better," she said.
"I'm sorry, Crissy," he stammered. "It's just that you've changed so much this last year that I can't help myself. You're so beautiful now."
"Why, Tommy Huntington, are you telling me that I used to be ugly?" Christina teased him, pretending to be affronted.
"Of course not. You know what I mean."
"All right, I forgive you," she laughed as she crossed to the gold-brocade couch and sat down. "Now tell me why you are here so early. I didn't expect you until dinnertime, and Johnsy told me that you looked fit to be tied when you rushed in here."
Tommy felt perplexed trying to find the right words, for he had not prepared his little speech. Well, he had better say something before he lost the courage.
"Crissy, I don't want you to go to London this summer. Your brother will be home in a couple of months, and I plan to ask him for your hand in marriage. Then, after we are married, if you still wish to see London, I'll take you."
Christina stared at him aghast. "You take too much for granted, Tommy!" she said harshly, but calmed down when she saw the stricken look on his boyish face. After all, she had always known this day was bound to come. "I'm sorry I snapped at you. I realize that our families have always considered us a perfect match, and perhaps someday we'll marry, but not now. You're only just eighteen, and I'm seventeen. We're too young to get married. You know I've always been isolated here. I love my home, but I want to meet new people and know the excitement of London. Can't you understand that?"
She paused, not wanting to hurt him. "I love you, Tommy, but not the way you want. You have always been my best friend, and I love you the same way I love my brother."
He had listened to her patiently, knowing how strong-minded she was, but her last words hurt him deeply.
"Damn it, Crissy. I don't want to be a brother to you. I love you. I want you as a man wants a woman." He came over to her and, taking her hands, pulled her up against him. "I want you more than I've ever wanted anything else. Taking you in my arms and making love to you is all I can think about. It's become an obsession."
"You're talking foolishness, Tommy. I don't want to hear any more!"
Christina pulled away from him, and a moment later Johnsy, her old nanny, bustled into the room with tea. So no more was said on the subject.
They had an enjoyable dinner together after going for a long ride to relieve the tension. Since Christina had resumed her normal, carefree manner, Tommy tactfully did not mention his desire for her again.
Later that same night, as Tommy lay in his own bed thinking of Christina and that afternoon, he felt horribly apprehensive. He was suddenly positive that if Christina went to London this summer as she planned, it would change her whole life and ruin his. But there was nothing he could do to stop her.
2
A thousand twinkling stars could be seen on this clear summer's eve. A warm breeze softly tossed the tree-tops, giving a glimpse here and there of a full, rounded moon lighting the landscape. But the peace of the beautiful English countryside was broken by the Wakefield coach rumbling over the empty, dusty road.
Inside the large, richly upholstered coach, John Wake-field stared pensively at his own reflection in the window. A lone candle standing in a sconce on the opposite side cast a subdued light over the deep-blue-velvet interior of the coach.
He just might enjoy this trip to the city, John thought, he knew Crissy would. He turned to look at his sister, who was sleeping undisturbed on the seat across from him.
Christina Wakefield had changed from a mischievous tomboy into a strikingly beautiful woman, all in the short year that John had been away from home. He had been shocked to see her so grown-up on his return a month ago and still couldn't get over the incredible change. Her figure had filled out to stunning perfection, and even her face had changed so that John hardly recognized her.
He studied her face now, as she lay dreaming sweetly. Gracing her high cheekbones were thick lashes that seemed to have grown longer in just a year's time. Her straight, narrow nose and rounded chin seemed more pronounced now that she had lost her youthful chubbiness. John knew he would have his hands full trying to keep the young bucks at bay when they reached the city.
Crissy had wanted this trip to London for her eighteenth birthday, and John had found no reason to deny her wish. Christina Wakefield had always been able to get what she wanted, he mused. She had had their father wrapped around her little finger, and now she had done the same thing to himself. Well, he didn't mind. John enjoyed giving in to his sister: she was all he had left.
He remembered clearly that fateful day four years ago when Jonathan Wakefield had died in a hunting accident. John had to inform Crissy of their father's death, for their mother took it so badly that she died three weeks later— from grief, the doctor said. But even with John's own grief, he somehow managed to help Crissy through her suffering. Crissy spent most of that time riding wildly across their estate on her black stallion. John let her do this freely day and night, for she had told him only three months earlier that she could forget her troubles by riding with the wind.
John wanted to laugh at her then, for what troubles could she possibly have at her age? Well, he had learned soon enough that troubles come to all ages. The riding helped Crissy through her grief, and she returned to normal sooner than she might have after suddenly losing both parents.
It was up to John to raise Crissy after that, but he couldn't have done it without the help of Mrs. Johnson— Johnsy, they called her. She had been their nanny when they were children, but now she took care of Wakefield Manor and supervised all the servants of the estate. John could still see Johnsy shaking her finger at him before they left for London, her brown eyes wide with concern.
"Now you be keepin' an eye on my baby 'ere, Johnny boy," she had reminded him for the third time that morning. "You don't be lettin' 'er go fallin' in love with none of those London gentry. I don't care for the likes of those London dandies with their uppity ways, so don't you be bringin' any 'ome!"
Crissy had laughed and mocked Johnsy as she got into the coach. "Shame on you, Johnsy. What would I be doin' fallin' in love with a London dandy when I 'ave Tommy 'ere waitin' on my return?" Crissy threw a kiss at Tommy Huntington, who had come to see them off. Tommy lowered his head in feigned embarrassment, but John could tell that he wasn't happy about Crissy's journey to the city.
Tommy lived with his father, Lord Huntington, on a neighboring estate. Since there were no girls of Crissy's age living nearby, she and Tommy had been constant companions since childhood. John and Lord Huntington had always hoped they might marry someday. But Tommy, with his sandy brown hair and light brown eyes, was only six months older than Crissy and was still just a boy in John's eyes. Crissy was now a young woman, however, and of an age to marry. John had hoped that Tommy would mature as soon as Crissy, but perhaps she would wait for him if she loved him.
Who knows how the mind of a woman works, John thought absently. He didn't even understand Crissy's feelings for Tommy: whether she felt only friendship for him, or something more. He must remember to ask her about it later, but she would probably be so busy the next few weeks that he wouldn't have a chance.
John smiled, imagining the surprised faces of the young men who would seek her out when they discovered that Crissy was not only beautiful but intelligent as well. John chuckled to himself, recalling the heated argument that their parents had had over Crissy's education. They had compromised, and Crissy was schooled like any man but was also taught the feminine arts of sewing and cooking whenever their mother could find her.
Yes, Crissy was educated and she was beautiful, but she had her faults. Her downright stubbornness was one fault that she had inherited from their mother, who would stand her ground on any subject if she felt herself in the right Another fault was her quick temper, for she could get angry over the smallest thing.
John sighed, thinking how hectic the next two weeks would be. Well, it would only be two weeks. He dozed off then, as the coach continued along the lonely road to London.
Christina and John Wakefield were still asleep when their coach pulled up in front of the two-story house on Portland Place. The sun had just edged over the horizon, turning the sky from pink to soft blue, and the birds were singing cheerfully.
Christina awakened when the driver opened the door of the coach. "We've arrived, Miss Christina," he said apologetically, and went to take down the luggage from the back of the sturdy vehicle.
Christina sat up and straightened her hair, which had fallen in long tresses all about her. She smoothed her dress and glanced at John, who was still sleeping soundly across from her, his blond hair lying softly across his high forehead.
She shook his leg gently. "John, we're here! Wake up!"
Slowly John opened his dark blue eyes and smiled, running a hand through his hair as he sat up straight. Christina noticed that his eyes were bloodshot. He must not have slept very long last night. She was surprised that she had slept so soundly.
"Come on, John! You know how excited I am," she pleaded.
"Slow down, young lady," he laughed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "The Yeatses are probably still sleeping."
"But I can unpack and get settled in, then spend the day shopping. You did say I could have a new wardrobe, and what better time to buy it than my first day here? Then I can wear my new clothes during our stay," she said happily as she jumped out of the coach.
"Didn't that etiquette instructor teach you anything at all, Crissy?" he scolded her, shaking his head at her breach of propriety. "I know you're excited, but next time wait until I help you down from the coach."
They walked up the few stairs to a pair of large double doors, and John knocked loudly. "The whole house is probably asleep," he said, knocking again.
But the doors swung open wide, surprising them both. A small, chubby woman with red cheeks and graying hair smiled out at them.
"You must be Christina and John Wakefield. Come in— come in. We've been expecting you."
They entered a small hallway carpeted with an Oriental rug, with a stairway at the end. A mahogany table stood against one wall, laden with small, lacy figurines.
"I am Mrs. Douglas, the housekeeper. You must be tired after your journey. Would you like to rest a bit before startin' your day? Mr. and Mrs. Yeats are still abed," she said cheerfully, leading them to the stairs.
"John probably could use more sleep, but I would just love a hot bath and then some breakfast, if it isn't too much trouble," Christina said as they reached the upstairs landing.
"No trouble at all, miss," Mrs. Douglas said. She showed them their rooms and left.
The driver followed them up with the luggage, and then went to tend the horses. John excused himself, saying a nap was just what he needed, when a young maid entered with water for Christina's bath.
"I be Mary, the upstairs maid," she said shyly as she pulled out a large tub and poured the water in. "If there's anything you be needin', miss, just let me know," she added.
"Thank you, Mary."
Christina surveyed the room. It was small compared to her bedroom at home, but beautiful. A gold plush carpet covered the floor, and the gold-canopied bed had a small marble-topped commode on one side and an ornate chest of drawers on the other. A green-velvet settee stood in the corner by the single window, which was draped in light-green velvet, and a gilt-framed mirror leaned against another wall.
Mary finished putting away the clothes Christina had brought with her just as more water arrived, and Christina was finally left alone. After pinning up her hair, she undressed and sank into the steaming hot water. She leaned back and relaxed.
For as long as she could remember, Christina had dreamed of this trip to the city. She had always been thought too young before, and last year, when she was sixteen, John had been away with his regiment. He had come home a lieutenant in Her Majesty's Army and now was awaiting further orders.
She had lived her whole life at Wakefield Manor. But she had enjoyed a wonderful childhood growing up in the country, running wild like a tomboy, and often getting into trouble. She remembered how Tommy and she used to hide in the loft of the Huntington stables and listen to old Peter, the head groom. He was always swearing and talking to himself and the horses. Christina learned the most unladylike words from old Peter, most of which she didn't understand. But one day Tommy's father discovered them hiding in the loft. They both got a severe scolding, and Christina was not allowed near the Huntington stables for a very long time.
Christina was no longer the tomboy she once was. She wore dresses now instead of the breeches Johnsy had made for her because she was always getting dirty and tearing her clothes. She was a lady now, and she enjoyed being one.
Christina finished bathing and dressed in a cool cotton dress with a floral pattern. She realized it wasn't in fashion, but she wanted to be comfortable as she did her shopping. She combed out her long golden hair and then pinned it up into a mass of curls and ringlets. Picking up the bonnet she would wear, she went downstairs to breakfast.
She found the dining room through one of the doors off the hall. John was sitting at the huge table with Howard and Kathren Yeats. She could smell the sweet aroma of ham and apple turnovers, for the table was laden with them and with eggs and muffins.
"Christina, my dear. I can't tell you how pleased we are to have you here." Kathren Yeats smiled at her with soft gray eyes. "We've just been telling John of the parties that we've been invited to, and there will be a grand ball for you to attend before your stay is over."
Howard Yeats chimed in. "To start you off, there's a formal dinner tonight at a friend's house. But don't worry— the younger crowd will be there," he laughed.
Howard and Kathren Yeats were in their late forties, a cheerful and robust couple always on the go and loving every minute of it. Christina and John had known them always, for they were old friends of the family.
"I can't wait to get out and see the city!" Christina said enthusiastically, putting something from each dish on her plate. "I want to get my shopping done today. Will you join me, Kathren?"
"Of course, my dear. We'll go to Bond Street. It's just around the corner and simply packed with shops."
"I thought I would join you myself, since I couldn't get back to sleep. There are a few things I have to pick up anyway," John remarked. He wasn't about to let Crissy go out into the dangerous city without him, even if Kathren Yeats was along.
John still looked tired, but perhaps he was as excited as she was, Christina thought. A maid filled her cup with steaming hot tea as she gulped down mouthfuls of savory ham and eggs.
"I'll be just a minute," Christina said, noticing they were all finished eating.
"Take your time, child," Howard Yeats said, an amused expression on his ruddy face. "You have all the time in the world."
"Howard's right, Crissy. Don't eat so fast," John scolded her. "You will have to delay your shopping for a stomachache."
They all laughed, but Christina didn't slow down. She wanted to be on her way. She hadn't expected to have to dress formally their first night here. She had only one evening gown, which she had made for Lord Huntington's last ball.
They spent the whole morning and part of the afternoon going from one shop to another. There were a couple of shops that featured ready-made clothes, but Christina could find only three street dresses that suited her fancy, with slippers and bonnets to match. She could find no evening gowns, however, so they spent the rest of the time having her measurements taken and choosing materials and trims. She ordered three gowns and two more street dresses, all with matching accessories.
The seamstress said it would take at least four days to complete the outfits, but that she would start on the gowns first so Christina might have them earlier. They finally returned home and had a light lunch, then napped.
That evening all tongues were set to wagging when Christina and John Wakefield made their entrance at the dinner party. They were a striking pair with their blond hair and extreme good looks. Christina felt out of place with her deep-violet evening gown, because all the other young women were wearing light pastels. But she was reassured when John whispered, "You outshine them all, Crissy."
Their hosts took them around to meet the other guests, and Christina enjoyed every minute of it. The women flirted boldly with John, and this shocked her a bit. But she was even more shocked by the way the men looked at her, as if undressing her with their eyes. She supposed she had a lot to learn about city people.
The dinner was served in a large dining room, with two huge chandeliers hanging above the table. Christina was seated between two young gentlemen who lavished far too many compliments on her. The man on her left, Mr. Peter Browne, had an annoying habit of taking hold of her hand while talking to her. Sir Charles Buttler, on her right, had limpid blue eyes that wouldn't leave her for a minute. Both men vied for her attentions, each boasting and trying to outdo the other.
After the meal was finished, the women retired to the drawing room and left the men to their brandy and cigars. Christina would have preferred to remain with the men and discuss politics or world affairs. Instead, she was forced to listen to all the latest gossip about people she didn't know. "You know, my dear, that man has insulted every pretty young girl that his brother, Paul Caxton, has introduced to him. It's not human the way he shuns them," Christina overheard a dowager say to her friend.
"It's true that he doesn't seem interested in women. He will not even dance. You don't think he is ah—odd, do you? You know—the kind of man who doesn't care for women?" the other replied.
"How can you say that when he looks so virile? Every eligible young woman in town would love to land him—no matter how badly he treats them."
Christina wondered slightly who the dowagers were talking about, but she didn't really care. She was immensely relieved when she and John were finally able to leave. In the coach on the way home, John smiled mischievously.
"You know, Crissy, three young admirers of yours cornered me separately in the den to ask if they could call on you."
"Really, John?" she replied, yawning. "What did you tell them?"
"I said that you were very discriminating in your tastes, and that you wouldn't give tuppence for the lot of them."
Christina's eyes flew open, "John, you didn't!" she gasped. "I'll never be able to show my face again!"
Howard Yeats burst out laughing. "You're very gullible tonight, Christina. Where has your sense of humor gone?"
"I actually told them that I didn't dictate to you whom you could or could not see—that the choice was entirely up to you whether you wished to receive callers or not," John said sedately as they pulled up in front of the Yeats home.
"You know—I didn't even think of that. I wouldn't know what to do or say if I had a gentleman caller. I've never entertained anybody except Tommy, and he's like a brother to me," Christina said seriously.
"It will come naturally to you, my dear," Kathren said knowingly. "So don't you worry yourself about it."
The days flew by quickly for Christina, with parties, social gatherings, and dinners to attend. Peter Browne, her dinner partner of her first evening in London, declared himself instantly smitten, and exasperated her with constant declarations of his love. He even asked her brother for her hand in marriage.
"Peter Browne asked you for my hand yesterday, and Sir Charles Buttler asked me today while riding in the park. These London men are quite impulsive, aren't they? Well, I won't see any more of them! It's ridiculous how they think every girl who comes to London is looking for a husband. And to declare they're in love, when they hardly know me—it's absurd!" Christina stormed at her brother, who was more than amused at her outburst.
Tonight was Christina's first ball. She had been looking forward to dancing ever since last month, when she had coaxed Johnsy's husband to teach her how. She had saved her prettiest new gown for this night and was as excited as a small child with a new toy. So far, her London season had not been what she had dreamed it would be. But tonight would be different! And she hoped Peter and Sir Charles would be at the ball, for she was determined to ignore them.
Chapter 3
PAUL Caxton sat staring moodily out the window of his study. He was brooding about his older brother, Philip, for Paul had never understood him. Philip had been a silent, withdrawn child, and living with their father these past years had not improved his disposition.
Philip had been discontent since returning to London a year ago for Paul's wedding. Paul talked him into staying in England, hoping Philip would find a wife for himself, settle down, and start a family. But Philip had become a barbarian after living with their father in the desert for so long. Paul and his wife, Mary, introduced many young ladies to Philip, but he showed contempt for them all.
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 ballgown. 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.
...
Januszek66