“No,” Jasper cut in. The vein that ran the length of his neck throbbed. “There will be no company.”
“I don’t understand,” Katherine whispered. She winced as the words tumbled into the quiet of the room, and the interlopers of her private despair stared on.
Jasper dusted his immaculate white gloves together. “We leave now.”
That was it. No gentle answer. No patient explanation.
Her eyes slid closed. Good God, what have I done?
When she opened them, Jasper studied her. For the briefest, slightest moment she detected a warmth in the fathomless green depths of his eyes. Only, it must have been a flicker of the fire within the hearth responsible for the slight glimmer, for she blinked, and firmly back in place was that coolly mocking expression she’d come to expect.
Katherine searched the room but there was no one to make him see reason. He was the all-powerful, truculent Duke of Bainbridge; so very clearly accustomed to having his every wish and desire met.
She grunted as Anne hurled herself into Katherine’s arms. She clasped Katherine tight, and stroked a soothing, reassuring circle over her back. “I’ve known since the moment he sent round a note to cancel your meeting in the park that he was for you, Katherine. I just wasn’t certain you knew it.”
Katherine drew back, startled.
Her sister must have seen the shock written on Katherine’s face, for she squeezed her shoulders. “I didn’t believe a bit of snow should have stopped your outing.”
Anne kissed her cheek. “Remember, he saved you. There is surely good inside him,” she whispered against her ear.
Yes, Katherine knew that, and yet, the idea of going off with him to his country estate, alone, shut away from her family, filled her with a stony resentment. She hugged her sister back, hard, and then made her goodbyes to Mother.
As they made their way through the house, to the foyer, and out the front doors held open by Ollie. The butler inclined his head and opened his mouth…perhaps to offer congratulatory words to the newly wedded couple? Only Jasper settled his heavy palm along the base of her back and steered her forward. She frowned up at him, but he appeared wholly unaffected by her displeasure.
They trudged through the snow-filled ground, over to the carriage. Jasper waved off the servant and handed her inside. He leapt up behind her.
The driver closed the door behind them. As the carriage lurched forward carrying Katherine off to her new home, she felt much the way Andromeda had surely felt chained to that rock in hope of salvation from a powerful avenger.
She sat pressed against the corner, and stared at Jasper. His gaze remained fixed at a point above her shoulder, his square jaw firm and unmoving. He might as well have been carved of stone for all the emotion expressed.
Husband. He is my husband.
Resolved strengthened Katherine’s spine. If he thought to intimidate her with his harsh coldness, he was to be sorely disappointed in her as a wife. She glared at him.
“You are being an absolute brute,” she snapped.
At last, he looked at her.
Jasper stared at this slip of a woman forever bound to him.
His wife.
Oh, good Christ in heaven. He’d pledged to never again wed, promised to never turn himself over to the hands of another who could inflict the mind-numbing pain he’d known upon Lydia’s death.
For the better part of the day, throughout the brief, ceremony he’d detected the faint tremor in Katherine’s hands, the panicked glitter in her brown eyes, and it had struck him that this woman would belong to him.
Until death they do part.
And then as he’d stood there, with those ominous five words flitting through his mind, he’d imagined a hellish existence in which it was no longer Lydia’s lifeless body he held, but Katherine’s. Ice climbed up his spine, and chilled him inside and out. She would not die. He’d not allow it.
“Did you hear me?” she snapped. “I said, you’re an absolute brute.”
She was perfectly correct; he was an absolute brute; a horrid beast, but he’d forgotten long ago how to interact among the living.
“My apologies,” he said, startling himself as much as her by the concession.
Her mouth fell agape.
Jasper leaned across the carriage and gently touched his fingers to her chin.
Katherine snapped her lips closed. “Well,” she said, and shifted on the bench. “Er, well, then. Thank you.”
Jasper settled back in his seat…
“But that still does not pardon you.”
His lips tugged at the corner. “Pardon me?” Katherine possessed more steely strength and courage than the most hardened battlefield warrior.
She nodded. “It is nearly Christmas.”
He knew that. For three years, three-hundred and sixty-four days, he’d well-known the significance of that date. Only, for him it no longer signified birth and a season of hope, but rather the bleak, emptiness of death. “I know that, Katherine. I do not celebrate Christmas.”
“That is silly.” She pointed her eyes to the ceiling of the coach.
The wind howled as if saddened by the reminder of Lydia. Silence echoed his dark musings, punctuated by the rapid churn of the carriage wheels as it turned up snow and gravel in its wake.
The irony did not escape him either; tomorrow would be the anniversary of Lydia’s death, and he should celebrate it married to his new bride.
Katherine continued, seeming unaware of his dark musings. “Christmas is meant to be a time of joy and peace. You’ve been shut away for so very long. Let us return to London, see my family, and celebrate with them.”
A harsh, ugly laugh burst from his chest. “Is this what this is about, Katherine? Is this truly about me? Or is about you having what you desire? Are you merely trying to twist me about your clever finger in order to have your way?”
She slapped him. His head whipped back under the ferocity of her blow.
He flexed his jaw. Christ, she could lay out most gentlemen he’d known in his miserable life.
The color drained from her cheeks. Her skin went a pale shade of white to match the the fresh, fallen snow of the passing scene. “F-forgive m-me,” she stammered.
He blinked under a staggering realization…
She fears me.
Which infuriated him far more than a deserved blow to his person.
His callous words were inexcusable.
He waved off her apology. “I deserved that.”
She wet her lips. “You did deserve it.”
“I know,” he said. “I stated as much.”
“Right.” Katherine fell silent. She shifted her attention to the window. The wind whipped against the carriage. It battered the black lacquer doors. Her long, delicate fingers pulled back the red velvet curtain and she glanced out the window.
Jasper studied her within the reflection of that ice-frosted glass panel.
“Aldora,” she whispered.
He angled his head. “I beg your pardon.”
She fixed her gaze out the window. “It occurred to me how very little we know of one another, Jasper. Aldora. She is my sister.”
He knew that. Guilford spoke of the eldest sister and the woman’s husband. Jasper would not humble himself by acknowledging he’d discussed her life and family quite freely with his close friend and confidante. “And Michael?” he said, knowing very well the wealthy young lord with a scandal attached to his name.
“Is Aldora’s husband. She intended to wed his brother, the Marquess of St. James because our family…” Her words trailed off.
Jasper told himself not to pry; his marriage to Katherine had been a matter of convenience, nothing more. The details surrounding her life, and that of her family’s should not matter. In delving into those details, her life only became that much more entwined with his. “Because your family…?”
Katherine gripped the fabric of her emerald green muslin cloak. “My father was a wastrel. He spent
his days and nights at the gaming tables, and indulging in spirits, and he squandered everything not entailed.”
Ahh, she’d alluded to as much in her proposal to Jasper. He was filled with the same icy rage as when she’d humbled herself by offering herself to him, a heartless bastard, all to thwart her grasping mother’s intentions for her.
“Nearly four years ago, he died suddenly of an apoplexy.” When his world was coming apart at the proverbial seams, so too had Katherine’s. He tried to imagine her then, a mere girl on the cusp of womanhood watching her every last earthly possession removed and sold to pay for her father’s sins.
Katherine glanced at him. “Then the creditors began coming round.”
His gut churned. He wished he’d known her then; wished he could have silently paid off those creditors and spared her the terror of being turned out, with no monetary security.
“They took Anne’s pianoforte, even her ribbons. They took all the unentailed property. My b…they took everything,” she amended, as though shamed in acknowledging her own material losses.
I will shower you with anything and everything your heart should desire.
“Aldora, she is the eldest and therefore needed to make a match and save us all from ruin.” She troubled the flesh of her lower lip as she was wont to do when agitated. For everything he did not know of her life, he knew the very subtle nuances of her body’s every movement.
“Aldora had been given a pendant by her friends; a simple gold heart given them by an old gypsy, purported to lead them to the heart of a d…” Her blush deepened. “Er, a dear man who would love her.”
Her telling reaction indicated there was more to her sudden discomfort. “Aldora thought with our family’s scandalous circumstances and dire financial straits that a powerful, wealthy, titled lord represented our hope for security.” She untied the strings of her bonnet, and removed the hideous thing. She tossed it across the carriage where it landed with a solid thump at his feet. “I detest that bonnet,” she muttered.
And bonnets. He would commission the finest milliner to design a limitless number of bonnets for her to choose of. One for every day of the year.
“I take it she did not marry the marquess?”
Katherine grinned. “She married his brother.” She waved her hand. “There was some scandal that clung to her husband Michael, but it mattered not. Aldora loved him.”
The red in her cheeks deepened to the hue of summer berries, and suddenly Jasper had a desire for the sweet fruit.
He shifted on the seat “And what of you, Katherine? Surely you must have dreamed of love for yourself?” Or at least more than this cold, practical contract you’ve entered into with me.
She lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug. “When I was younger, perhaps. I’m nearly twenty years, and far more logical.”
Jasper had known love and great loss, but the thought of his brave, bold, spirited, Katherine never knowing love herself, scraped at his insides like the edge of a blade being applied to his flesh.
Except…on the heel of that, was the thought of her with some nameless, carefree gentleman capable of laughter and love, and with every fiber of his selfish being, Jasper gave thanks that she belonged to him.
“You’ve not spoken of your family, either, Jasper.” Her quiet murmur interrupted his musings. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
Jasper bent down and retrieved her bonnet. He studied the ivory lace trim. “I have no brothers or sisters.” His had been a lonely childhood. There had been no laughter or merriment within the walls of Castle Blackwood.
“What of your mother and father?”
“They are d…”
“Dead. I know.” She leaned over and took her bonnet back. “I imagine there is certainly more you can say of the people who gave you life.”
Oh, he could say any manner of things about them, none of which would be appropriate for a lady’s ears. “My parents were cold, selfish individuals. It was a match based on their mutually distinguished positions in Society.” His parents’ had been a scandalous union; both his mother and father carrying on with very public affairs.
Katherine set her bonnet upon her lap and toyed with the strings that dangled from the ivory creation. “Surely there was some affection there,” she protested. “Even as my parents’ marriage was carefully arranged by their fathers, my mother very much loved my father.”
A harsh chuckle escaped him. “My parents detested one another. My father had a string of mistresses, my mother a string of lovers. I assure you, Katherine, there was little affection between them.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh,” she said faintly, the color deepening on her cheeks.
Sweet, Katherine. She spoke of logic and practicality and the benefits of a marriage based on convenience, but for all of it, she was still hopelessly innocent, and the thought of that raised an unholy terror inside of him.
Suddenly uncomfortable with the intimate direction their conversation had taken, Jasper cleared his throat. “You should rest, Katherine. The snow will slow our travel to Castle Blackwood.”
She peeked out the window. “Will you tell me of it?”
Jasper sighed. He should have expected with her stubborn streak that his words should have the opposite request. “It is cold. Dark. Expansive.” Devoid of cheer. For a too-brief time, however, there had been laughter within those castle walls. Now all that remained were the echoes of Lydia’s agony and his own despair.
Katherine wrinkled her nose. “That hardly sounds like a warm place to call home.”
“I never suggested that it was.”
She pursed her lips. “Well, you have me there.”
And this time, it seemed his laconic responses halted her steady stream of questions.
He desired silence. So why did he feel a pang of regret when she folded her arms, closed her eyes, and shifted away from him—the loss, both physical and not.
He pulled out his watch fob and consulted the time. With their travel slowed by the conditions, they should have to stop at an inn along the way. Meanwhile, he would be shut away in this suddenly too-small carriage with his new wife’s lean, lithe frame and breasts made for sin.
A small sputtering snore slipped past her lips. Jasper tucked his timepiece away.
He sought the steady, slow rise and fall of her breaths. Except…he squinted in the dark…and grinned. “Are you feigning sleep, Katherine?”
She shook her head. “Er…No. That is.” Her lips settled into a mutinous line. She burrowed deeper into her corner.
He reached across the carriage and pulled Katherine onto his lap.
She squeaked. “Wh-what are you doing?” She wiggled back and forth.
Jasper groaned as his shaft leapt in response. “Be still.” Hoarse desire laced his command.
She stopped abruptly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Oh by all the saints, she truly was this innocent. He counted to ten.
Katherine shoved an elbow into his stomach, and he grunted. “Did you hear me, Jasper? I said I was sorry for hurting you.”
He closed his eyes, and again counted to ten. What manner of madness had possessed him to drag her delectably lush body atop his? Where nothing more than the thin threads of their garments separated his flesh from hers?
“Jasper…?”
“Bloody hell, I heard you.” Jasper took a deep breath, and gentled his tone. He opened his eyes, braced for the shocked hurt in her brown eyes. “Oomph.” All the air left him on a hiss, as she planted her fist into his stomach.
In the short span of time they’d been married, she’d delivered an impressive slap to his cheek, elbowed him in the side, and now planted him a jab Gentleman Jackson himself would have been proud of. He’d married quite the bloodthirsty wench.
Katherine squirmed in an apparent attempt to free herself. But her delicious movements only brought the sweet curve of her buttocks closer into contact with his rock-hard shaft. Had it been any other, more matu
re, more experienced woman, he’d believed her undulating movements intentional.
However, not even the Mad Duke of Bainbridge could mistake the fury flashing in his wife’s eyes as passion. In the event there was even the slightest bit of doubt, her next words killed all wonderings.
She jabbed a finger into his chest. “Let us be clear, Your Grace,” Ahh, so it was, Your Grace, now. “You are the one who denied us the generous wedding breakfast arranged by my mother. It is you who is determined to run off to your,” she held her hands up mockingly and deepened her voice. “Cold, dark, expansive castle.” Katherine pointed her eyes to the ceiling of the conveyance. “Cold, dark, and expansive,” she muttered, as if more to herself. “Who describes ones home in those terms?” She jabbed her finger again at his chest. “Furthermore, who would care to live in a home that is cold, dark, and expansive?”
Jasper opened his mouth but was silenced by her black glare. Goodness, with that reproachful stare, his wife could rival the sternest matron at Almack’s.
“And lest you forget, Your Grace, it is you who scooped me up and placed me on your lap.” She wiggled her rounded-buttocks upon his center, and his head fell back as he sent a silent prayer for patience skyward.
Alas, life should have well-taught him that there was no God, not even one to oversee such small favors. Katherine continued to squirm on his lap, and with a startled screech, toppled backwards.
The muslin fabric of her cape, and her satin skirts flew over her head.
“Bloody hell,” she cursed, and struggled on the floor of the carriage.
Jasper swallowed, knowing it was the height of ungentlemanly behavior to not immediately help her up, but he remained frozen at the sight of her flesh exposed to his hungry stare; the trim ankles, the lean, legs, and lush thighs that were meant to wrap around a man’s waist, urging him on…
He groaned.
Katherine batted at her fabric, and shoved it down into place, favoring Jasper with another scowl. “You’re groaning, Your Grace? It is I who is seated here upon the floor of the carriage.”
He leaned over her. “Need I point out, Your Grace,” Katherine’s brows dipped. “That you are the one who squirmed yourself free.”
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