“My lady?”
She swallowed back her improper musings.
“Er…are you leaving already?”
Jasper arched a single, black icy brow. “I didn’t believe there was another reason for me to stay.”
That honest admission chafed, more than she wished. She didn’t want to notice his uncharacteristic handsomeness or his honorable characteristics when he should disdain to notice her.
“Er…” She wet her lips, as the plan she’d concocted that had prompted her to send round the note requesting his presence seemed the height of foolishness. Had she imagined his kiss those two days ago?
Except…her body still burned in remembrance of his touch.
No, that had been no imagining.
“My lady?” he prompted again; a thread of impatience underlined that question.
Katherine jumped. “Katherine.”
His brow wrinkled.
“That is to say, considering our initial meeting, and then our chance encounter in the bookshop, and then the time we met at Hyde Park, and you and I k…” He quirked that icy brow yet again. She waved her hand. “That is to say, talked. We spoke that day,” she amended. If their kiss was wholly unmemorable to him, well, then she’d not do something so foolish as to mention that particular part of their meeting that day—even if it had been the single most passionate moment of her nineteen, nearly twenty years. “Well…”
“My lady?”
She stamped her boot in the snow. “I’m merely suggesting you call me Katherine because of, of…our friendship.” She balled her hands in pained embarrassment.
His green eyes deepened to the shade of jade. He took a step toward her, and she took a hasty step back in retreat. He continued advancing, and Katherine scrambled backwards until the heels of her boots reached the edge of the frozen river.
She glanced over, and her stomach lurched at how precariously close she’d come to the water. Her time at the Frost Fair had proven that even frozen water was not to be trusted.
When she turned back around, he was a mere hands width apart. Katherine gasped, and stumbled.
His arms shot out, and he gripped her by her forearms, steadying her.
“Thank you,” she murmured, hating the breathless note to those two words.
He dipped his head. “Is that what we are, Katherine? Friends?”
Katherine would have to be a lack wit to not hear the mocking sneer to those two words. Suddenly too aware of his body’s proximity to her own, she took a hesitant step around him, and placed several steps between them.
He advanced. A hunter stalking its prey.
Katherine picked her way carefully around the snow-covered trail, and tilted her chin up. “Yes. Why, I rather thought we were. You don’t strike me as a gentleman with very many friends, therefore you should accept friendship where you can.” His eyes narrowed further, to dark impenetrable slits. She wet her lips and backed up another step. She was rather certain he’d never harm her, but the dark look in his eyes would have made the most seasoned infantryman uneasy. “As your—”
“Friend?” he supplied, his voice dryer than a crisp autumn leaf.
She nodded emphatically. “Yes, as your friend, I thought I should provide a solution to your dilemma.”
His firm lips twitched. She narrowed her eyes, and studied him more closely. Or she might have imagined the very slight movement. Or mayhap it was mere coincidence…
“I was unaware I had a dilemma.”
Katherine jerked to the moment. She nodded, this time more slowly. “Oh, absolutely you do.”
He folded his arms across the broad expanse of his chest.
Her eyes dipped lower, and she swallowed as her body recalled his hot, strong hands upon her person. Dukes were supposed to be hopelessly old, impossibly wrinkled, and sporting monocles. Yes, they most certainly possessed monocles. Dukes, most certainly were not supposed to be great big, towering bears of men with their muscles straining the black expanse of their breeches.
“Are you warm, madam?”
Katherine blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
Jasper gestured to her. “You are fanning yourself, my lady.”
Katherine stopped abruptly, and stared at her hand as though it belonged to another. “Katherine,” she reminded him. She dropped her palm to her side. “After all we are…”
“Friends,” he finished for her.
Something about the way he delivered that word; a silken caress, warmed in molten lava cascaded over her, it unfurled in her belly, like a small flame, that grew, and spread like a great conflagration. Why, it would seem she was rather warm after all.
“Yes.” Did that breathless response belong to her? It seemed more suited to scandalous ladies with rouged lips and daring décolletage.
His body stiffened, and she suspected he was of a like opinion. “Yes?” he whispered.
Oh goodness, this was not how she’d imagined this very direct, very matter-of-fact conversation to go. Katherine shook her head. “Yes, we are friends,” she said.
His gaze remained fixed upon her, unblinking and unfathomable. “As my friend, perhaps you should enlighten me as to this pressing dilemma I’m unaware of,” he said, wryly.
Katherine’s mouth went dry. She took a deep breath, and pressed on before her courage deserted her. “Your Grace, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”
Jasper angled his head, and studied the lovely Lady Katherine, nay…just Katherine, as they were friends. He was just twenty-seven years of age so did not think it likely his hearing was failing him. It would appear he was madder than even Society believed him to be, because Jasper was ever so certain Lady Katherine Adamson had just proposed marriage to him.
He removed his black hat from atop his head, and beat it against his side.
Katherine cleared her throat. “I—er…will you? Marry me, that is, Your Grace?”
He ceased his distracted movement, and jammed his hat back on top his head. It would appear he’d heard her correctly, after all.
Still, it did beg for clarification.
“Did you just propose marriage, my lady?”
“Katherine,” she corrected. She nodded; the abrupt movement dislodged the drab, brown bonnet atop her head. Several strands of brown ringlets slipped down the side of her cheek.
Jasper’s fingers twitched with the sudden desire to brush the silken tresses back, and tuck them behind her ears.
He shook his head. What in hell was wrong with him?
“And yes, I did.” She took a step toward him, seeming unaware of his body’s physical awareness of her lean, lithe frame. “Will you marry me?” she asked for a third time.
He opened his mouth to reply but no words came out. He promptly closed it. Surely she jested?
And because he was at a loss of words, he said nothing.
Katherine caught her lower lip between her teeth, and worried that delectable flesh. She held her gloved palms up. “Of course, it would only be to solve your dilemma,” she said.
Jasper folded his arms across his chest. “Ahh, yes, my dilemma. Do tell me about this dilemma.”
Her eyes lit, and his response seemed to energize her for she began to pace a short path in front of him. Her boots left imprints upon the previously untouched snow. “Well, surely you know as a duke you have a certain ducal responsibility.”
His body froze. Surely she did not imply what he thought she implied? Blood rushed to his shaft as he considered just then one very specific ducal responsibility. “Oh, and what is that?” he said hoarsely.
She glanced up at him. “Why, the matter of an heir, of course.”
Jasper’s eyes slid closed. Good Christ, she had referred to exactly what he’d believed she’d spoken of. What manner of innocent young lady proposed to a duke and spoke to him of his ducal responsibilities of acquiring an heir? Jasper waited for the familiar stirrings of agony and guilt at the mere mention of a babe. Instead, a forbidden image filled his mind. Katherine spre
ad out upon satin sheets, her thick brown waves cascading about his naked skin, her generous breasts exposed for his worship. He counted to ten.
She ceased pacing. “Are you counting, Jasper?”
Not Your Grace.
Jasper.
He counted to ten, once again.
“I am.”
“Oh,” she said. She steepled her fingers and tapped the tips of them together. “Should I continue?”
“Please, do.” he said.
She either failed to detect or care about the sarcasm in that two-word response.
Katherine resumed pacing. “Well, you do not care for life in London or the Seasons, which is very good because neither do I. You won’t have to go to the trouble of leaving your estate and journeying to London and taking part in the marriage game. We can wed, and carry on quite amicably.”
“Because we are friends?” His lips twitched again.
She frowned at him, no effort made at concealing the reproach in her pretty brown eyes. “Would you hear more?”
He waved his hand. “Of, of course, my lady. Enlighten me.”
“Katherine,” she corrected. “After all, if we are wed, you should refer to me by my Christian name.” She caught her lip between her teeth again. “Or at least I should hope we won’t be the proper English couple who refers to one another by our titles or surnames. Mr. Waincourt,” she said in a clear attempt at a proper, matronly, older woman. “Mrs. Waincourt,” she said, dropping her voice several shades. In her attempt at a deep, masculine tone, her words emerged on a low, husky murmur better reserved for the bedroom.
He swallowed, his eyes unbidden went to her bow-shaped lips, and he tried to tamp down the desire to tug that silly brown bonnet with ivory lace trim from atop her head, toss it aside, and make love to her mouth.
She continued to trouble the plump flesh of that lower lip, the gesture more intoxicating than the most potent spirits. “Though, I suppose it would be Your Grace and Your Grace.” She wrinkled her pert little nose. “That isn’t at all endearing.”
Jasper ran his gaze over her face as he realized for the first time that she was endearing; from her nervous little gestures, to the direct manner with which she spoke, to even that hideous brown bonnet she’d worn since he’d fished her from the Thames.
She blinked up at him. “Ahem.” She coughed into her hand. “I said, ‘ahem’.”
“Do you have something in your throat, my lady?” he schooled his expression to hide all amusement.
Katherine frowned up at him. “It is Katherine. And no, I do not have something in my throat. I was trying to discreetly capture your attention.”
“I should think if you have to explain as much, that your efforts appear unsuccessful.”
“Decidedly so,” she agreed with a nod. She tapped the tip of her boot on the pavement. “Well, what then? Will you wed me or not?”
“I would have to say…or not.” Though Jasper was, for the first time in nearly four years completely and utterly enchanted. And if he had been of the marrying kind, which he was decidedly not, then he would have very gladly accepted the lady’s offer.
Katherine rocked back on her heels. Her expression so crestfallen, that he nearly called the words back, and accepted her hand.
“Oh.” She blinked her wide-brown eyes, giving her the look of an owl. “Well, this is certainly not how I imagined this would go.”
A gust of cold wind whipped that brown ringlet across her cheek; it draped over her mouth. As if of their own volition, his fingers reached up to brush the strand back as he’d longed to do since he’d come upon her alongside the frozen river. “And how did you imagine this would go?” he asked gently.
Her soulful brown eyes met his, and he was struck by the great sadness he saw there. From the moment he’d come upon Katherine Adamson, she’d been fiery, and angry, teasing, and witty, but she’d never been sad. It shouldn’t matter to him.
And yet, it did.
“Katherine?”
She looked out at the river. “Well, you would of course be condescending and mocking, which you of course were.” He stiffened, not at all liking her unfavorable opinion of him. It mattered not that he’d spent four years purposefully crafting the image of an unfeeling bastard. He didn’t like that Katherine saw him in that light. Katherine carried on. “You would have of course, asked the benefits of a marriage to me.”
Again, he imagined her sprawled out upon his bed. “Oh, and what would be the benefits of a marriage to you?” he asked, voice garbled.
Katherine’s eyes lit, and the glimmer of sadness faded. She held a finger up, and then shifted the copy of Wordsworth’s work. She reached inside her reticule and pulled out a note. She held it out.
His brow furrowed. “What is this?”
“A list with all the benefits in marrying me.”
Jasper glanced down at it, staring blankly at the title.
All the Reasons to Wed Lady Katherine
“It isn’t a very clever title,” Katherine prattled on. “It isn’t the title of the list that is important, of course, but rather the contents within the list.”
The page shook in Jasper’s hands.
Katherine’s frown returned. “Are you all right?”
Jasper’s shoulders quaked, and the oddest rumble built within his chest, steadily increasing, until something foreign, something exploded from his lips—laughter. Rusty and hoarse from ill-use. It echoed in the quiet of Hyde Park.
She snatched the list out of his hands. “You needn’t laugh at me.”
Jasper continued to shake, as he laughed for the first time in three years. He laughed until tears seeped from the corners of his eyes, the feel and sound of it foreign, and yet, freeing. He’d never thought to laugh again.
As his laughter subsided to a small chuckle, he reached for the list. “If I may?” He took it from her hands.
She grabbed for it but he held the velum beyond her reach. “Obviously you aren’t aware that it is ungentlemanly to grab something from a lady’s hands.”
“Obviously,” he muttered under his breath. He scanned the list.
I am well-versed in poetry. There was that.
I despise London. Well, they were of like opinions, there.
I’ll not require a large wardrobe or fine jewels. He had enough money to shower her daily with diamonds and sapphires if she so wished.
I can provide as many children as desired. His eyes fixed on that item. The images that crept into his mind of Katherine’s satiny smooth skin bared to his gaze shifted, to an image of her abed, staring up with sightless eyes, the bed soaked in a pool of blood as she gave her life for one of those children. Nausea rolled in his gut. He crushed the page in his hands.
“You needn’t wrinkle it,” Katherine groused, pulling it out of his white-knuckled grip, seeming unaware of the hell that ravaged Jasper’s mind. “I’m certain there are other reasons.”
“And what of you, my lady? I don’t imagine the contract be mutually beneficial for you. What desperation would drive a lady to ask a gentleman who is so, how did you phrase it? Condescending and mocking? To be her husband?”
Humiliated pain flashed in Katherine’s eyes, and Jasper, who’d thought himself deadened on the inside, was knifed with guilt.
She stuffed the list angrily into her reticule. Her jerky movements sent Wordsworth’s work tumbling to the ground. “It was silly of me to ask you.” She spoke so quickly, her words spilled over one another, and blurred together. “I don’t know what manner of madness would ever compel me to do something as foolhardy as to ask you for—”
Jasper kissed her.
He dimly registered the reticule slipping from between her fingers, and landing in the snow with a faint thump. He grasped her hips, and pulled her close, so that his shaft nestled the soft flesh of her belly. His mouth slanted over hers angrily until her lips parted, and he slid his tongue inside to taste her; she tasted of cinnamon and mint leaves, and he wanted to lose himself forever i
n her.
Katherine reached up and wrapped her arms about his neck; her full breasts crushed against the expanse of his chest. She moaned, and he swallowed that sound. Jasper cupped her buttocks in his hands, and anchored her to him.
The distant echo of screeching kestrel split the silence; more powerful than the blare of a pistol. Jasper wrenched his mouth away. His breathing came in fast, deep pants, and it was all he could do to keep from pulling her into his arms again.
Her thick lashes fluttered open. “Well,” she said, breathlessly. “I believe we might add that to my list, then.”
Reality intruded, swiftly.
Ah yes, the list.
Katherine must have seen something in his expression for she cleared her throat. “I should be going then.” She bent down and retrieved the leather volume and her reticule.
He should let her go. It would be wise to let her dip her curtsy, turn on her heel, leave, and forget they’d ever met at the Frost Fair. At the possibility of never again seeing her again, something wrenched inside him. She took a step to leave. “You did not ever explain what would be the benefit in marrying me, Katherine.”
The tip of her boot hovered above the ground. She set it down, and eyed him warily, as though he’d set out some kind of trap that she were taking great pains to avoid.
“Well, I hate ringlets.”
Jasper furrowed his brow. “I beg your pardon.”
“And gowns made of too much ivory and lace.” She waved her hand. “Mother insists I wear them because it is the ladylike thing to do. It would be such good fun to wear vibrant shades. I should like to wear a silken gown of the deepest sapphire hue. I imagine as your wife, I’d have a good deal of freedom in selecting my wardrobe.”
“Undoubtedly,” he said in serious tones. If Katherine were his wife, he would hire the finest modiste and let her select whatever fancy laces and satins she desired.
Her brows knitted into a single line. “Are you making light of me again?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, dryly. “You’d wed me then to wear fine fabrics?”
A Heart of a Duke Collection: Volume 1-A Regency Bundle Page 21