A Heart of a Duke Collection: Volume 1-A Regency Bundle

by Christi Caldwell

  “I must say I’m surprised at the evening’s course,” Aldora called from the opposite end of the table, jerking Katherine uncomfortably back to the moment.

  Katherine frowned. “You did not care for the meal?” She spent the previous morning with Cook discussing and planning all the details for the Christmas Eve feast.

  Aldora waved her hand. “I just know you’ve never cared for roast quail.”

  She detected the slight stiffening of Jasper’s broad shoulders, the one tell-tale indication he’d been following any of the discourse that evening. Until the near, imperceptible stiffening he’d appeared wholly unaffected by her family, and the Christmas Eve dinner, and…Katherine, herself.

  “Everything has been splendid,” Michael intoned.

  Aldora frowned. “Of course, dinner could not have been more wonderful. Your Cook did a magnificent job with the fare. I merely meant I always believed you’d detested roa…”

  Katherine shook her head, with her eyes imploring her sister to silence.

  Aldora’s eyes widened a bit, and then she snapped her lips closed. She picked up her spoon and dipped it into her cup of plum pudding.

  Lizzie slid out of her seat.

  “Lizzie,” Michael called.

  The little girl ignored him, and wandered down the edge of the table.

  Katherine held her breath as she paused at the arm of Jasper’s chair.

  He picked up his glass of red wine and took a sip. His jaw taut.

  “Bear,” Lizzie whispered.

  His seat slid backward along the wood floor, as though he were a moment away from leaping from his seat, and fleeing the room like the hounds of hell were after him. The muscle in the corner of Jasper’s eye ticked.

  Lizzie reached for his free hand and tugged. “Bear,” she said, a bit louder this time.

  “Lizzie, come here,” Aldora called, shooting an apologetic glance at Jasper, who remained stoically silent through the exchange.

  He finally dropped his gaze to Lizzie.

  She jabbed a finger at his plate. “I have your cake.”

  Jasper’s frown deepened, and Katherine made to rise and go to the girl. But Jasper reached for his Shrewsbury cake and handed it over.

  Lizzie accepted the sugary dessert with a wide-toothed smile. “Thank you,” she said, and proceeded to scramble onto Jasper’s lap.

  Aldora gasped. “I am so sorry, Your Grace.” She rose, and hurried to retrieve her daughter but Lizzie burrowed against Jasper’s chest She smattered flaky white bits of crumb onto his immaculate black jacket. Aldora shot a questioning glance between Michael and Katherine, and then back to Jasper. “Lizzie, come here.”

  The little girl took another bite of Shrewsbury cake. She shook her head, and a brown curl fell over her eye. “No. Bear,” she insisted.

  Jasper sat immobile, as though he’d been turned to granite. His hand came up, hovered about Lizzie, and Katherine thought he intended to turn the girl over to Aldora’s care.

  Then, he rested his fingers atop Lizzie’s crown of brown curls, and gave an awkward pat.

  The last tiny sliver of her unguarded heart gave way, and fell into Jasper’s hands.

  Lizzie grinned around a mouthful of cake. “Bear,” she said again.

  Jasper reminded himself to breathe. He counted to ten. When that proved ineffectual, he counted another ten. And another.

  He dug his toes into the soles of his boots to keep from upending the girl and tearing from the dining room like a madman escaped from Bedlam. Then, isn’t that what he was? The Mad Duke.

  How else could he account for the alarm roused by this small slip of a child?

  The girl, Lizzie, reminded him of his loss. He closed his eyes a moment and willed Lydia’s face to the surface.

  But it would not come.

  He clenched and unclenched his jaw and accepted the staggering truth—Katherine had weaved her way into his every thought, and had dispelled the memories he’d held most dear.

  In the course of a fortnight, he’d thrown aside his vow to remain unwed and celibate. And now, a short while after spilling his seed inside Katherine, he partook in a Christmas Eve sup.

  Katherine caught his gaze and smiled. She raised a spoonful of plum pudding to her lips. Her mouth closed over the small bite. A faint remnant clung to her full, lower lip. He wanted to go over and kiss the mark away. Then the tip of her tongue darted out and captured the small dab of pudding.

  Small fingers still caked with Shrewsbury cake tugged at Jasper’s jacket, recalling his attention.

  “Bear?”

  He swallowed and looked down at Lizzie. “Yes?”

  The small child possessed the courage and boldness of her aunt, for she grinned up at him. “Sing.”

  He’d rather lob off his right arm than sing before this table of strangers and his delectable wife.

  Jasper shook his head. “No.”

  Her lower lip quivered. “S-sing.”

  Jasper glowered. “No,” he said this time with more firmness.

  Tears welled in her very familiar, warm brown eyes. A sudden image filled his mind. Katherine as a small girl with the same brown curl hung over her innocent wide-eyed stare. His mind went numb with a longing for the dream Lizzie represented.

  “P-please, Bear,” she said on a trembling whisper.

  Oh, for the love of Christ in heaven and all his blasted saints.

  “Lord Redford loved his cards,

  He played them all the time,

  Wagered land and all his wealth,

  And lost them to Lord Grimes.”

  As his slightly discordantly sung ditty ended, an uncomfortable pall fell across the table. The little girl clapped at his feeble attempt at song. In the thick blanket of discomfort, it occurred to Jasper the enormity of the song he’d just sung to little Lizzie.

  Jasper’s eyes found Katherine, who sat, shoulders squared, head at an awkward angle.

  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.

  Bloody hell, he could not even do this right.

  He shifted the bundle in his arms and made to set Lizzie down but she tugged at his arm.

  “Again. Again,” she urged.

  Aldora rushed over, and Jasper was never more grateful to see another person in his life. He handed off the two-foot burden to her waiting arms. “Your Grace,” she murmured, her gaze averted.

  Jasper surged to his feet. He sketched a deep bow. “Good evening,” he mumbled. Taking care to avoid Katherine’s eyes, Jasper turned on his heel and left.

  He only managed to make it to the end of the corridor.

  Katherine’s slippered feet tapped a swift beat along the floor in her haste to reach him.

  Jasper cursed and increased his pace.

  “Jasper?” His name emerged slightly breathless from the quick pace she’d set for herself.

  Her faint mutter carried down the long corridor and echoed off the stone walls. He forced himself to stop.

  Katherine came to stop alongside him. Her eyes moved over his face. “Are you all right, Jasper?”

  You’ve thrown my entire world upside down, Katherine. No, I’m not all right.

  “Fine,” he said quietly. He made to leave, but she touched her fingers to his sleeve.

  The delicateness of her touch reminded him of all manner of wicked things they’d done together just that morning. Once hadn’t been enough.

  He swallowed hard.

  It would have to be.

  “Because you don’t seem all right,” she blurted. Katherine caught her lower lip between her teeth as she so often did, and again, his mind and body stirred with the memory of her mouth upon his, the satiny softness of her breasts, the delicate pink tip engorged from his ministrations.

  He groaned. She would be the death of him.

  “Jasper…”

  “No, I’m not all right,” the words burst from his chest. Servan
ts could be nearby, her family still took their dessert at the end of the corridor in the dining room. Those realities should have been enough.

  Instead, he began to pace there along the thin strip of red carpet. He dragged his hand through his hair. “You instructed Cook to prepare roast quail.”

  She blinked. “I believed you liked roast quail.”

  Jasper paused. “But you do not.” He didn’t know that much about her. But she’d cared enough to ask him about his favorite meals, and then had Cook prepare it for the eve of Christmas dinner, in spite of the fact she abhorred it.

  Katherine touched a tentative hand to his shoulder, and jerked him back into his frenetic pacing. “What is this about, Jasper?” she prodded, with such gentleness his gut clenched.

  “I sang that bloody ditty,” he spat.

  A gentle understanding lit her eye. He did not deserve her pardon. “It is f…”

  He glared her into silence. “Do not say it is fine,” he bit out. “It is not fine. Your father gambled your family’s wealth and security away and I sang a bloody ditty about it.”

  Katherine held a palm up in attempt to stay his movements.

  He ignored her.

  “Jasper, it was merely a song.” The corners of Katherine’s lips tugged ever so faintly; he suspected she might smile. “A rather poor choice of song for a child, perhaps.”

  Any other woman would be spitting fury with their vitriolic words and burning eyes. She should be livid, and she would be deserving of any indignation.

  Except Katherine’s lips at last gave in to a full smile, revealing a faint dimple in her right cheek. Jasper jerked to a sudden stop. And that was another blasted thing. He’d not even noted the dimple before this moment. How could he have failed to note the precious little indentation in her right cheek?

  Jasper resumed pacing. “I didn’t even consider the child,” he groused under his breath.

  Katherine blinked. “I beg your pardon.”

  His hand slashed the air. “The child. Lizzie. I didn’t know another blasted thing to sing to the child. It hadn’t even occurred to me, until just this moment, the absolute unsuitability of such a piece.”

  If his son hadn’t died, Jasper would be well-versed in the care of young children. He would certainly know the interests of a child two or three years of age, and which songs to soothe their troubled thoughts, and coax a smile. “I sang a bloody tavern ditty to a child,” he repeated with a shake of his head.

  Katherine stepped in front of his path, so that Jasper was forced to either bowl her down, walk around her, or stop.

  He stopped.

  Katherine placed her palms upon his chest. His heart stirred. “She loved your song.”

  “It was inappropriate.”

  She nodded, and touched the tip of a well-manicured nail to his lips, silencing him. “She enjoyed it, Jasper. You made her smile. Does it matter how or why? It just matters that you did.” She opened her palm and cupped his cheek. He caught her wrist and dragged it to his mouth, placing his lips where her pulse fluttered wildly.

  “Jasper?”

  “Yes, Katherine?” he whispered against her wrist.

  She giggled. “That tickles.”

  He responded with another kiss to the sensitive intersecting of her palm. She swatted at him. “S-stop,” she commanded. “Jasper?”

  He sighed, and pulled away. “Yes, Katherine.”

  “Can we go abovestairs?”

  Jasper narrowed his eyes. “Abovestairs?”

  Katherine wet her lips. “Er, yes.” She scuffed the tip of her ivory slipper along the floor. Did his wife have slippers of any other color? He imagined her in a scandalous red slipper. Imagined himself tugging it loose, tossing it aside, and then lowering her stockings inch by agonizing… “I was hoping, that is to say, imagining,” She furrowed her brow. “Well, imagining might not be the right word.”

  “Katherine?”

  “Yes?”

  “Out with it.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh, er, yes, of course. I want to spend the night with you.” Her cheeks flamed a red to match the carpet, only heightened by the pale white of her satin evening gown with those ridiculous lace ruffles along her décolletage.

  Did she just say…?

  “I know it is not at all the thing. Wives and husbands sharing the same chambers. Mother and Father never shared a chamber.” She grimaced. “Not that I care to think of Mother and Father sharing a chamber. It is just…” Her words ended on a high-pitched squeak as he swept her into his arms.

  “What are you…?”

  “Katherine?”

  “Yes?”

  Jasper shifted her in his arms, angling her in a way that her breasts were crushed against his chest. “Will you cease talking?”

  “Er, right, yes, of course.” She peeked around his shoulder. “Jasper?”

  He sighed. In addition to spirited, he would add loquacious to his wife’s sometimes endearing, in this instance, exasperating, attributes. “Yes, Katherine?” He pressed his lips to the place where her neck met her ear.

  She giggled and swatted at his chest. “That t-tickles,” she managed to pant out between gasping laughs.

  And ticklish. He could add ticklish to the growing list of his understanding of Katherine Waincourt, the Duchess of Bainbridge.

  “You were saying?” he whispered against her neck.

  She erupted into another fit of laughter. “Someone w-will undoubtedly hear us or see us.”

  “Undoubtedly,” he said with a sardonic smile.

  Katherine slapped her hand to his chest again. He grunted. She was rather strong for one so diminutive. “It wouldn’t do to create a scandal here.”

  Jasper shook his head, bemused. “Katherine, you are my wife. There will be no scandal.” And if a servant was unwise enough to step into their path, then he’d sack the demmed fool.

  Katherine frowned. “I do not like that dark glower, Jasper.”

  It appeared she’d also come to know him. Jasper ignored her and carried her up the long, sweeping staircase, down the hall.

  He paused a moment outside his chambers. No one had entered these rooms in a very long time. Not even Lydia had frequented his rooms. Instead, Jasper would pay visits to her, and then she’d insist for propriety’s sake he return to sleep in his own chambers.

  Jasper pressed the handle and carried Katherine inside.

  Chapter 27

  Katherine imagined this is how mere mortals felt upon entering the dragon’s lair. She shoved aside such silly musings as Jasper carried her over to his wide, four-poster bed, and deposited her amidst the center of the soft, feather mattress.

  A little grunt escaped her at the unexpectedness of the movement.

  She shoved herself up on her elbows and eyed her husband.

  Jasper shrugged free of his jacket and tossed it to the ground. His black waistcoat and shirt followed. Her mouth went dry as his hands went to the fastenings of his form-fitting breeches.

  Then he turned his attention to her.

  Oh, God, I will never have enough of him.

  Then, with the infinite gentleness she’d come to expect from him, Jasper sat at the edge of the bed. He held his arms out and Katherine scrambled onto his lap.

  She captured his face in her hands. “I love you, Jasper.” Katherine willed him to hear the strength of her profession. “I…”

  He kissed her until all rational thought fled with the magic of his kiss. His hands worked her gown up over her ankles, calves, ever higher, and then around her waist. The cool night air slapped her skin belied by the warmth of his kiss. Then his expert hands moved to the back of her gown.

  Jasper paused. “I. Thought. I said. No buttons.” He punctuated the hoarse command between deliberately placed kisses to her eyelids, earlobe, the corners of her mouth.

  Katherine moaned, and arched her neck back. “I don’t have any other gowns,” she managed to rasp.

  He helped turn her around and devoted his at
tention to sliding each one of her pearl buttons free of the tiny grommets along the back of her gown.

  Oh God, she’d never before realized how very much she detested buttons.

  “There,” he whispered, and slid the silly ivory ruffled satin gown down her frame. It fell past her hips, and Katherine kicked it off.

  Next, Jasper moved to her chemise and stays, removing them in short order so he’d bared her body to his hot gaze.

  Katherine expected she should feel some maidenly embarrassment for the heated manner in which he studied her. But all she felt was a hunger for more. For him.

  “What have you done to me, Katherine?” he groaned.

  Their bodies met; hers soft and curved, his hard, and muscle-hewn.

  Jasper worked his hand down between their bodies and stroked her damp core. “You are beautiful, Katherine. You’ve made me forget all the vows, all the pledges I’ve taken. I’m powerless against you.”

  His tantalizing words wrapped headily about her. She clamped her legs tight around his hand, a ragged moan slipped past her lips as Jasper’s thumb pressed into her nub. As if of their own volition, her thighs fell open. Her head fell back. “I love you,” she said again.

  Her words seemed to drive him to a frenzy. His lips slanted over hers, his tongue forced its way inside and she met his in a bold, nearly violent parry, even as his hand continued to deliberately torment her womanhood.

  Jasper’s fingers caressed her moist center and she arched her hips, struggling to open her eyes.

  He broke their kiss, and she moaned in protest, mourning the loss of him.

  “You are so beautiful,” Jasper rasped out. He inserted a finger in her center.

  Her eyes slid closed at his words, and he continued to caress her. Those words, when uttered as they were, hoarse with passion, Katherine found she believed him.

  “Do you like that, Katherine? If you tell me you do, I shall give you more than you’d ever imagined.”

  More than this volatile storm raging through her?

  “I do,” she cried. “That is, I do,” he teased her nub, and she caught her lower lip between her teeth. “Oh, goodness. I do, like it, Jasper. Please,” she implored. She could not survive this passionate torture, no matter how much she reveled in his ministrations.