He took his meals within the confines of his own rooms, he tended to the affairs of his estate, and he tried with a desperateness to put thoughts of Katherine and her delicate hands and winsome smile from his mind.
Jasper swiped the back of his hand over his face. To no avail.
In the privacy of his own thoughts, he could at least be honest with himself—he’d come to care for Katherine.
He who’d resolved to never again care for another, and open himself to the pain and suffering that inevitably came from caring too deeply.
Somewhere along the way, since their fateful meeting at the Frost Fair, Katherine’s warmth had slipped inside his cold and empty being, and gradually spread throughout him. She’d taught him how to once again smile, and tease, and be teased, and it terrified the bloody hell out of him.
Jasper shoved back his seat, and he stood. Clasping his hands behind his back, he wandered over to the edge of the hearth and stared contemplatively down into the roaring blaze.
He could not account for the manner of madness that had allowed him to accept the offer she’d proposed—an offer of marriage, a marriage of convenience. At the time he’d thought himself driven by an almost sense of pity, an altruism to help the forlorn young woman avoid a match with that bastard Bertrand Ekstrom. He would give Katherine his name, his protection, and that would be the extent of their union .
He’d not let himself imagine sharing the same home as man and wife, he’d not thought of the one wall separating his bed from hers, or the unholy desire to tear down the door and at last lay claim to her heart, body, and soul.
So now he cravenly stood, closeted away from the lure of Katherine’s charm.
A pounding echoed around his mind.
Jasper blinked, and with a frown glanced around his office.
No, no that was not in his mind.
Then it stopped, and his attentions returned to the warm fire.
The pounding resumed.
Followed by a muffled cry that carried through the stone walls of the castle. Katherine! Jasper’s heart stopped.
With a speed born of terror, Jasper sprinted across the room. He pulled the old door open hard enough to nearly tear it from its hinges. He raced down the long hall, toward the foyer toward his wife’s sharp cry. Jasper didn’t pause to consider what manner of harm could have befallen her. What…
Jasper staggered to a halt, and the air left him as though Gentleman Jackson had dealt a swift punch to his solar plexus.
He stood, and with a horrified fascination stared at Katherine cradling a child close to her heart.
Jasper’s eyes slid closed as the terror of his past, of a breathless, lifeless babe merged with a dream of this pink-cheeked, grinning babe held against her breast.
For a brief, infinitesimal moment Jasper allowed himself to cling to that wispy dream for more with Katherine. He clung to the image of Katherine heavy with their child, and a smile on her cheeks as they discussed names for a precious girl who would have Katherine’s shining brown eyes.
A crimson stain splashed over the alluring image, and swallowed Katherine. A hideous grimace contorted the generous smile, and Jasper’s body jerked.
His eyes flew open, and he stared at the strangers in his foyer.
“What is the meaning of this?” Jasper barked.
Wrinkleton and several footmen scurried off, as the unfamiliar young woman and tall gentleman looked to him with like disapproving expressions.
“Jasper,” Katherine greeted with a smile. She turned the babe over to the tall, glowering gentleman, and hurried over to Jasper’s side. “I have the most wonderful news.” She gestured to the small trio. “My sister Aldora, has come to spend the holiday.”
A muscle ticked at the corner of his mouth.
The bespectacled Aldora smiled and dipped a curtsy. “Your Grace, it is a pleasure to meet you.”
“And this is her husband, Lord Michael Knightly, and their lovely daughter Lizzie,” Katherine went on. “They will stay through—”
“No.”
Katherine blinked. She scratched at her forehead. “Through Epiphany,” she went on. “I’ve instructed Mrs. Marshall to have the finest chambers readied, and—”
He cleared his throat. “May I speak to you, Katherine? In private.” He could not have this cold castle filled with people and merriment. He’d been alone too long. Katherine’s presence here alone terrified him.
Katherine touched her fingers to his sleeve her soulful brown eyes beseeched him. Ah God, I cannot deny you anything.
He turned to Knightly and held out his hand.
The other man eyed him a moment. He shifted the baby in his arms and then with his free hand, accepted the other man’s offering. “Bainbridge.”