For Love of the Duke (The Heart of a Duke Book 2) (30 page)

His wife clenched her legs about his hand and arched into his caress.

The thin thread he desperately clung to, slipped. Moisture beaded at his brow, as he battled four years’ worth of self-control.

He moved over Katherine’s writhing form and inserted his knee between her thighs. He pressed his hardened shaft against her center, and propped on his elbows, frozen above her.

Oh, God. I’m going to lose control. I’ve wanted you for so long, Katherine.

“Jasper,” she moaned, arching against him.

“Forgive me,” he whispered.

He plunged into her hot heat. Wet, warmth closed around him, drawing him in until he wanted to forever lose himself inside her.

Katherine cried out, and a spasm of pain contorted her face.

He froze, forcing himself to stop, when all he wanted with every fiber of his worthless being was to plunge deeper inside her, over and over again until he spilled his seed at long last…

A pained groan ripped from inside him.

“Jasper, are y-you all right?”

He chuckled at Katherine’s breathless concern. His large shaft had her stretched to full, and she should worry after him?

Jasper placed a kiss at her temple. And began to move.

Her eyes widened, and she caught her lower lip between her teeth. He fixed his gaze to the sight of it, anything but the alluring draw of her wet core as he moved in and out. In and out.

It’d been too long.

Jasper increased his rhythm. Katherine matched his rapid thrusts, arching up. Her nails scraped along his back, as she encouraged him on.

“I cannot wait, Katherine,” he moaned. “I…” Oh, God. He needed to wait…just…

Katherine’s eyes widened, and her whole body stiffened in his hold. “Oh, God,” she cried, and then her wet sheath throbbed and pulsed under the force of her release. Her body trembled as she came, sucking him deeper.

He didn’t want to…

He couldn’t spill his seed…

Not. Again.

Jasper flexed his hips and poured himself in long, rippling waves inside her. His hot seed flooded her, filled her, and he tossed his head back with a primitive roar.

Jasper collapsed atop Katherine’s still form, bracing himself upon his elbows to avoid crushing her.

As the mindless, sated-state of desire began to recede, and his breathing resumed a normal rhythm, he rolled off of Katherine. The enormity of what he’d done; the mistake he’d made began to seep into the blissful moment, until horror melded with terror replaced the sweet release he’d experienced in Katherine’s tight, virginal heat.

Even now, his seed could be taking root and ultimately destroying her.

Nausea rolled in his belly.

Katherine curled up next to him, and he recoiled as she brushed a kiss alongside his bicep. “I love you, Jasper,” she whispered.

His heart slowed, slowed, and then thudded to a stop as her words crept around the hopes he’d not known he carried.

No, he couldn’t…she couldn’t…

Love destroyed.

As much as he longed to be selfish and reach out and grasp with his greedy hands all that she offered, he could not be responsible for extinguishing Katherine’s effervescent glow. It would destroy him in ways that even Lydia’s death hadn’t managed to do.

Oh, God, what have I done?

~26~

Katherine dipped her spoon into the small dish of plum pudding and polished off the holiday dessert. She sat back in her seat, deliciously warmed by the roaring fire that blazed within the hearth.

She studied her sister and Michael a long moment. The two of them eyed one another as though there was not another soul present, the way Jasper gazed upon his wife in their blissful portrait. Odd, how such a thought brought her pain just that morning, and now, after Jasper’s loving a short while ago, she should feel nothing but this…this…sense of fulfillment.

She loved him.

And it mattered not that he’d not spoken the words in return. For he’d tossed aside his vow of a marriage of convenience, and made her his wife in all sense of the words.

Heat raced up her neck and flooded her cheeks. She stole a sideways peek at her husband.

Seated at the head of the table in his midnight black evening jacket and expertly folded white cravat, one would never gather from the hard glint in his inscrutable expression that a short while ago he’d been…been…

She fanned her cheeks. Making love to her.

I’m no longer a virgin.

She smiled. With the exception of a slight soreness betwixt her thighs, there remained little evidence of Jasper’s passionate loving.

“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. Servants 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.