For Love of the Duke(74)

Jasper clenched and unclenched his jaw, wanting nothing more than to toss Katherine’s family from the castle. He didn’t need the tableau of the bucolic family they represented.

Only…

Katherine’s smile glowed brighter than a blue moon in a summers night, and damn if his chest didn’t tighten in the oddest way for it. She clapped her hands together. “This is just splendid,” she said, her eyes meeting Jasper’s.

Mrs. Marshall, the Housekeeper appeared. The older, plump woman with grey hair and wrinkled cheeks curtsied. “Your Grace, rooms have been readied for your guests. Their trunks have been brought to their chambers. If I may show them above stairs?”

Katherine removed her hand from Jasper’s arm and his skin immediately cooled from the loss of her touch. She rushed over to her sister, Aldora, and hugged her arm. “Mrs. Marshall shall have the servants ready a steaming bath for you, and you can rest. I’ll have a dinner prepared, and—”

Aldora laughed. “Thank you, Kat. It is ever so good to see you.”

Katherine bussed her on the cheek.

Mrs. Marshall led the trio abovestairs. They’d reached the top of the landing when the brown-haired angel peeked out from behind her father’s shoulder and smiled at Jasper.

Jasper recoiled as though he’d been gutted with the edge of a dull blade. His vision turned to black, and his breath came fast. He’d not allowed himself to think of any child since the death of his son. Closeted away as he’d been at Castle Blackwood, he’d not confronted the reality of smiling, innocent babes with full, dimpled cheeks, and glimmering wide-eyes. And he’d not allowed himself to imagine his son beyond that blue, lifeless creature he’d held as he’d drawn his last, pained breath.

Until now.

His son would have been four.

Oh, God. The echo of a child’s laughter ricocheted around his mind. He gripped the fabric of his jacket to keep from clamping his hands over his ears and drowning out the torturous sound.

Now he saw that lifeless babe as a boy of four years, atop a pony, waving at a proud Jasper who stood off to the side, coaching his son, guiding him.

He nearly doubled over from the pain of his imagining.

He dimly registered Katherine’s long fingers closing about his hand. “Jasper?”

Jasper jerked. One wrong move would shatter him into a million shards of nothingness.

He counted to ten. Once his breathing resumed his normal cadence, Jasper pulled back. He swiped his palms along the front of his jacket.

“Jasper…?”

“In my office, madam,” Jasper bit out.

He spun on his heel, and stormed toward the corridor, when it registered that his wife remained rooted to her spot in the foyer. With a growl, Jasper looked to his wife.

Katherine seemed unaware of the very thin thread of control he clung to. She stood, hands planted upon her sweetly curved hips. “I’ll not be ordered about like a child, Jasper. I am not ‘madam’. My name is Katherine. If you wish to speak to me, then…” Her words ended on a squeak and she staggered back a step as he strode back toward her.

His rage deepened. “Do you believe I’d hurt you?” he asked, his tone harsh. He might be a miserable, foul-mouthed, uncouth bastard, but surely she knew he’d sooner chop off his own arm than allow harm to befall her?

She shook her head once.

He leaned down so close their breaths mingled as one. “Are you afraid of me?”

Those familiar lines appeared in her brow. “Afraid?” she repeated. Her lips twitched. “Of you?”

“You took a step backwards.”

“Because you startled me.”

Some of the tightness in his chest eased at her plainspoken admission. He forced himself to take another breath. “Will you follow me to my office, Katherine?”

She nodded, and slipped her arm through his.

He made to pull away, but she placed her other hand upon the one looped under his arm, and locked him into place.

As he guided her to his office, his skin burned through the fabric of his jacket at the absolute rightness of her fingers on his person.

What have you done to me, Katherine?





~23~



As Katherine entered her husband’s office, she peered at the purely masculine, massive space resplendent in deep sapphire and black colorings and Chippendale furnishings. She stared about bemused at the size of the one room that could have housed the entire first floor of her family’s former Hertfordshire cottage.

Katherine took in the elaborate Renaissance works of art upon the walls, the long-case clock, and gold-trim throughout the border of the room. She’d lain awake more times than she could remember, from fear as her worldly possessions were stripped away from her family, fearing they’d be destitute, hating Father as each property was taken, until barely anything remained. They could have paid all of father’s debts surely with the wealth to be found in this one room. And yet, when everything had been taken from her family, she’d refused to surrender to the despair.