Jasper lowered her to the mattress and followed her with his body.
He inserted his shaft inch by agonizing inch. Beads of sweat dripped from his brow.
Heat filled her at the hungry desire reflected in the near black of his emerald stare.
Jasper’s breath grew labored, and then he plunged deep inside her.
Katherine cried out, and then he began to move. Her hips rose and fell to match his steady, rhythmic thrusts.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
Katherine didn’t know if the litany filled the air around them or merely rang inside her head.
But she loved him.
He thrust again.
With a savage intensity that terrified her.
He withdrew.
And her heart would belong to him.
He plunged deep.
Forever.
Katherine’s body stiffened, and then she exploded in a burst of flashing colors of the Vauxhall Gardens fireworks she’d once viewed.
Jasper’s muscles went taut beneath her fingers. His face contorted in a paroxysm of rhapsody and agony, and then he spilled his seed inside her body as she convulsed around him. He collapsed, and braced himself above her until he could once again breath, and then rolled away from her.
A sated smile tugged at her lips and she curled against her husband’s side.
Jasper’s arm hovered a moment about her, and then he pulled her close.
With the fire’s embers popping in the hearth, and the cool winter air howling against the windowpane, Katherine drifted off to sleep.
A deep rumble pierced the edge of Katherine’s consciousness. Her lashes fluttered open. She yawned and blinked back the thick fog of sleep.
She struggled to adjust to the dimly lit room as she tried to sort out her whereabouts.
Another bear-like rumble caught her notice, and she looked around.
Her gaze alighted upon her husband sprawled on his back, a broad arm draped over his brow, his lips slightly slack in his slumber.
She flipped onto her side and studied him. How very unguarded, how very uncomplicated he appeared with the hard, edge of wakefulness stripped free.
He shifted, drawing her attention to his broad, muscular chest covered in a spriggy mat of dark curls. She hesitated, and then caressed the delicate wisps of hair. She jumped as he broke into a sputtering snore.
Katherine lay back down, knowing she must have the world’s silliest smile upon her lips, but she’d not been able to stop grinning since that morning, when Jasper made her his wife in every sense of the word.
And he’d made love to her, again.
In all her nineteen years, she’d not known joy such as this.
I love him.
Her smile fell. Jasper hadn’t returned those very important words. There would always be Lydia. His heart would forever belong to his first, beautiful, paragon of a wife who’d masterfully completed tapestries that still adorned the walls of the castle.
But perhaps…she rolled back to her side, and examined him—perhaps just a small sliver of his heart remained alive, and that tiny sliver could one day belong to her.
Jasper shifted on the pillow. His smooth, even breaths indicated he still slept.
Her gaze snagged upon the faintest scrap of fabric concealed beneath his pillow. Pale green like mint leaves, the cloth had a familiar look to it. Katherine hesitated. Her gaze moved between Jasper’s closed lids and the hint of green.
Mother had despaired of Katherine’s unrelenting inquisitiveness. The whole ‘curiosity killed a cat, thou hast mettle enough to kill curiosity’, business.
Katherine inched closer to the head of Jasper’s enormous four-poster bed. Breath held to make sure he still slept, she lifted the edge of his pillow.
And froze.
Her heart pounded loud in her own ears. She shoved the corner of the pillow up and reached for the familiar, long-forgotten reticule she’d thought to never again see. Katherine held it in tremulous fingers, as her heart beat with a greater sense of urgency within her breast, the steady thumpthumpthumpthump filled her ears, confused her thoughts.
Why…?
What…?
How could this be?
She opened the small reticule and her breath caught.
The heart pendant glimmered back up at her.
The heart of a duke.
He’d rescued her reticule.
Katherine angled her head, wrinkling her brow.
…And he’d kept the small article.
Why would he—?
“What are you doing?”
The bag slipped from her fingers at the harsh growl.
Her head snapped up and she met her husband’s furious gaze.
Katherine swallowed hard at the burning hot fury detected in the blacks of his eyes.
“J-jasper,” she stammered.
Jasper stared with something akin to horror at the blasted green reticule given to him by Guilford a lifetime ago.
Heat climbed up his neck.
“J-jasper, you have my reticule.”
Yes, he’d kept her bloody reticule. He despised the weakness within him that made him hold onto the frippery, and, he cringed… sleep with it beneath his pillow.
“Why do you have my reticule?” Katherine angled her head, moving her gaze from Jasper to the rumpled green fabric.
He swung his legs over the bed, feeling like an untamed beast.
“Jasper, I asked—”
Jasper whipped back. “I heard you,” he barked and bent down to retrieve his breeches. He should have never taken her to his chambers. He should have never made love to her. Or poured his seed into her. Or…
With another growl, he jammed his leg into one of the holes of his breeches and yanked it up.
He no longer recognized this…this…weak-creature Katherine had turned him into.
Jasper stuffed his other leg in, and pulled his breeches up.
His life had been fine until her. He’d been content to wallow in the misery of his own creation. He’d been safe and protected, and then with one crack of a thin sheet of ice, she’d tumbled into the surface and toppled his world.
“Are you going somewhere, Jasper?” A quizzical note threaded her question.
Jasper stooped to rescue his white cambric shirt. He pulled it overhead.
In that moment, he hated Katherine for forcing him to live again and opening him up to the perils of caring. Not when living was so bloody hard and uncertain.
He reached for his jacket.
Katherine scrambled over the edge of the bed, glorious in all her naked splendor. “I don’t understand why you’ll not speak to me.” Brown curls hung over her cream white shoulders and draped across her breasts. The pink tip of one perfect mound of flesh, peeked from between the strands, the tempting image she presented mocked his steely resolve.
Jasper spun toward the door, but Katherine rushed around to plant herself in front of him. She planted her hands upon her delicately flared hips. She narrowed her eyes. “Is this about the reticule?”
This was about everything.
“Because I don’t know why you held onto it, Jasper.” Her soft, gentled words washed over him until his fingers itched to reach the short distance between them, take her into his arms again, and make love to her. “But I have to believe it means something, Jasper.”
Her supposition killed his desire swifter than a plunge in an icy lake.
He shook his head. “You incorrectly assume, madam. It means nothing.” Jasper made to step around her.
She matched his movement. “Then why did you keep it?” she challenged. “Why if…?” Her question ended on a gasp as he pulled her close.
Jasper lowered his head, so their noses brushed. “It means nothing. Do you hear me, Katherine? Nothing.”
Most ladies would have recoiled at his icy fury. Katherine tossed her head back like a Spartan princess. “If it meant nothing you’d have returned it to me, Jasper. Or you would have
left it that day at the—”
“I didn’t find your bloody reticule. Guilford did,” he cursed, and released her with such alacrity she stumbled back a step.
Katherine righted herself. Red color slapped her cheeks. “Oh.” Her gaze slid away for a moment.
And Jasper despised himself for the uncertainty he detected in her usually spirited, warm brown eyes. Because the truth of it was Guilford had rescued the item, but Jasper had retained it for reasons he didn’t, couldn’t force himself to consider.
Her eyes, they returned to his. “You needn’t push me away, Jasper,” she said softly. “I love you.”
Jasper’s body jerked. Oh, God.
This he couldn’t stand. He could not crave her love. Could not want it. She would destroy him in ways Lydia hadn’t managed to.
Taking a steadying breath, Jasper squared his shoulders. “Katherine, ours is a marriage of convenience. I’ve told you before. I loved my wife and she is dead. I’ve nothing left to offer you, and I certainly don’t want your love.”
Katherine blanched and her whole body jerked as if he’d struck her a physical blow. The sight of her suffering struck him worse than a lash across the back.
Wind beat hard and cruel against the glass window panes, the spirits railing at him.
Katherine gave a jerky nod. “You needn’t leave your chambers, Jasper,” she said with a shocking strength to her words. She fetched a sheet and draped it about her slender frame. “I’ll l-leave.” This time her words broke, and his gut clenched.
Katherine marched back toward the door, more regal than any queen.
He wanted to reach for her. Halt her forward movement. Beg her forgiveness.
Katherine opened the door. It closed behind her with a soft, decisive click.
And he did none of those things.
He was a bloody bastard.
Chapter 28
Katherine studied the familiar copy of Wordsworth’s latest works she and Jasper had sparred over. She fanned the now well-read pages, swallowing past the silly lump in her throat.
She didn’t have another drop to shed for Jasper. A knock sounded at the door, jerking Katherine from her reverie. “Enter,” she called quietly.
The door opened. Aldora hovered at the entrance. Her gaze went from Katherine, and then over to the small valise at the food of Katherine’s bed.
Katherine handed the book over to the maid Mary, who’d been so good as to serve as her de facto lady’s maid.
Mary placed it in the valise and looked around. “Is that all, Your…Lady Katherine?”
The unspoken question pertained to the mound of ivory and white satin gowns heaped upon the center of her bed. Katherine never wanted to see another white gown for the remainder of her days. “I do not require anything else, Mary. Please, do with them as you would.”
Mary nodded, and bobbed a curtsy.
Aldora advanced deeper into the room.
“That will be all, Mary,” Katherine said, dismissing the young servant.
The maid dropped her gaze to the wood floor and sketched another curtsy. She hurried from the room.
“Are you certain you want to leave?” Aldora asked when the door clicked shut. “He is your husband, Katherine.”
The gentle reminder brought tears to Katherine’s eyes. She swatted at them. “Bah, silly tears,” she muttered.
Aldora handed over a handkerchief.
Katherine accepted it and blew her nose noisily into the white fabric etched in Michael’s initials. She remembered the cruel words Jasper had hurled at her last evening, made all the more cruel for the truth to them. “Ours is a marriage of convenience, Aldora. I wed him to be free of Mr. Ekstrom and he wed me for…” For reasons she still didn’t fully understand. “I’m a bother to him. He’ll be grateful for my departure.” Her heart wrenched. She loved him. Would always love him.
Aldora took her hands. “I believe he must care for you in some way.” She gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “The duke does not strike me as a gentleman to do something because he doesn’t want to. He wed you for a reason.”
Katherine shifted the conversation to a far safer topic. “If you’re too tired from your journeys and you’d rather wait until tomorrow to leave…”
Aldora sighed. “Michael has seen the carriage readied. Though I’d not imagined we’d spend Christmas traveling back to London.”
Nor had Katherine.
Tears blurred her vision yet again. She blew her nose noisily into the soiled linen.
“Does he know?” Aldora asked gently.
Katherine shook her head. “I will speak to him. He’ll be relieved, I’m sure of it.”
“No gentleman cares to be abandoned by his wife,” Aldora said with a wry twist to her words.
A frisson of guilt spiraled through Katherine, but she brushed it aside. Jasper couldn’t have been clearer in his feelings regarding their marriage.
And Katherine? Well, she found herself a bigger coward than she’d ever believed, because she could no longer share the same walls with Jasper and the ghost who would forever hold his heart. The pain of unrequited love would slowly destroy Katherine until she became the same empty shell of a person Jasper had become after his wife’s death.
Her eyes shifted to the reticule atop the pile of white and ivory gowns. She reached for the delicate purse, and made to place it inside the valise. Something gave her pause. She set it back down on the mountain of white.
“Michael said if you’re determined to journey with us to London, then we’d be wise to leave within the hour.”
Katherine nodded.
Her sister opened her mouth, as though prepared to say more, but then gave her head a sad little shake, and took her leave.
Katherine stared at the closed door a long moment.
She would leave within the hour. She’d resided within the walls of the castle not even a full week, and yet it felt as much a home as her childhood cottage in Hertfordshire.
Within the hour, she’d leave and Jasper would remain, and continue on the solitary existence he’d dwelt within for the past four years since Lydia’s death.
She rubbed a hand over her chest to ease the dull ache where her heart beat.
With a sigh, Katherine started toward the door.
The sooner she made her goodbyes, the sooner she could attempt to put back the small pieces of her broken heart and resume living.
A knock sounded on Jasper’s office door.
He frowned, and picked his head up from the ledgers. “Enter,” he barked. Jasper returned his focus to the neat column of numbers. “What is it, Wrinkleton?” he snapped. His servant knew not to enter the private sanctuary of Jasper’s office without good cause.
And Jasper had made it abundantly clear through the years—there were no good causes.
The delicate clearing of a throat, jerked his head up. Katherine stood with her arms folded behind her. She leaned against the door. “Jasper,” she said quietly.
Ink spilled from his pen, and he glanced down distractedly at the now mussed row of numbers, then back to his wife. Jasper dropped the pen down, and rose. “Katherine.”
His stomach twisted. He’d not seen her since last evening when she’d marched from his chambers draped in nothing but a white sheet. He’d tortured himself by sitting with his back against the walls separating them, the bitter sound of her tears reached to him through the plaster walls, until they’d faded from great, gasping sobs to small, shuddery gasps, and then nothing, indicating she’d at last slept.
Not Jasper.
In the end, though, his own fear of loving her had frozen him to the spot outside her chamber doors.
Rooted as he’d been to the door, he’d focused on the ormolu clock atop his fireplace as it had ticked away the minutes of the late morning hours, ushering in a new day.
Katherine caught her lower lip between her teeth as she was wont to do. She shifted on her heels but remained fixed at the entrance of the door, as though one wro
ng word from him and she’d take flight.
“What is—?”
“I’m leaving,” she blurted.
He blinked, certain he’d heard her wrong.
“I’m leaving,” she said again, this time stronger. Her gaze slid to a point past his shoulder. “Michael has seen the carriage readied. I…we, leave within the hour.”
Jasper’s whole body froze. He feared if he moved in the slightest, he’d splinter into a million tiny pieces of fragmented nothingness. “Leaving,” he repeated, the one word utterance hollow to his own ears.
Katherine stepped away from the door and glided toward him. “I am so very grateful to you for everything, Jasper,” she said softly. “You wed me when you didn’t need to, or want to.”
Oh, God, I did. I did want to wed you Katherine. It is everything that came after the marriage I feared.
He struggled for the words that at one time in his youth he would have been able to call up. He would have known the pretty, flowery compliments, the gentle praise to keep her at his side. Only the four years he’d spent in hell had robbed him of his ability to do so.
Jasper sat back in his seat.
Katherine carried on in a rush. “I can never repay you for what you’ve done.” A wistful smile played about her lips, so he was forced to wonder at the secrets contained within the fragile expression of mirth. “Thank you.”
She would thank him? Thank him as though he’d helped her across a puddle, or held a parasol above her head, shielding her from the sun?
Pain twisted and turned inside him. “What if I say I do not want you to leave?”
Katherine flinched at the harshly spoken question, and he knew in that moment she would turn, walk out the door, and out of his life. Oh God, if my heart is dead, what is this sharp, jagged ache tearing at the organ?
“Come, Jasper. This is your home, and I’m merely an interloper here.”
You are no interloper. You are my wife.
Tell her you bloody fool. Tell her before she leaves.
He opened his mouth.
She angled her head, as if awaiting the unspoken words he could not dredge forth. Katherine gave her head a sad little shake.
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