Chapter Twenty-Six
Cold air nipped at Jasmine’s bare toes. Half-asleep, she pulled at bedcovers, but they wouldn’t budge. Furrowing her brow, she tugged again. She blinked her gritty, burning eyes open. Dull blue light sifted through a gap in the curtains.
Why is my window there?
She reached out, searching the bed—and touched something solid.
Someone was lying next to her.
Jasmine screamed and shot out of the bed.
Off balance, she slipped and grabbed for support, connecting with a bedside table.
The contents fell to the ground with a clattering crash.
Her heart pounded as if it might burst from her chest. She covered her ears against the agonizing ringing that seemed to originate from inside her head.
The person rose from the bed and came toward to her.
“Easy, easy, Jasmine.”
Matthew.
“I’m sorry I startled you,” he whispered. “You’re all right. Breathe.”
She scanned her surroundings. Darkness shrouded an unfamiliar room, but moonlight illuminated Matthew. He was barefoot, with his shirt untucked and his trousers loose at his hips. He approached her with raised palms.
“Where am I?” Jasmine shook her head. “Why am I…?”
“You’re in my house,” he soothed. “You’re safe.”
“How did I get here? Why was I in bed with you?” She wore a cotton nightgown that ended above her ankles, with daisies at the hem. “Where are my clothes?”
Her hair smelled of lavender soap. Not hers. Someone had bathed her. Images erupted in her mind. Duke Kendall’s laughter. Shadows. The taste of bile in her throat. Hands on her body—
She burst into tears. She sank to the floor, hugged her knees to her chest, and screamed, “What happened to me?!”
Matthew sat in front of her.
“Jasmine?” he whispered gently. “May I hold you?”
She looked up and met his glistening, tender eyes. He opened his arms, and she launched herself at him. She threw her arms around his shoulders. Gripping his shirt tight, she wept in angry, wailing sobs.
“I’m sorry,” he cried. “God, Jasmine, I’m so sorry.”
She had spent her life sheltered, living in a world where no one could truly hurt her—and she had been proven wrong with a flick of a wrist. Matthew tried to warn her, but she didn’t listen.
“You were right. I was a fool.” Her tears soaked his shoulder, but she couldn’t stop. “You warned me, but I didn’t believe you—I didn’t know.”
“No, it’s my fault. I left you alone. I should have—damn it. All I ever do is fail you.”
For long moments, they held each other in a tangle on the cold floor, until her sobs quieted to hiccuping breaths. Gooseflesh rose on her exposed calves, and she shivered.
“Could we get back in the bed?” she asked.
“If that’s what you wish.” Matthew stood, offered his hand, then helped her to her feet. He lifted the bedcovers, and she climbed back into the bed.
“Can we do what married couples do?” she asked.
“Always.” Sitting with his back against the headboard, he opened his arms. “Come here.”
She shuffled to settle between his legs with her head resting on his chest. He eased her into the cradle of his body.
“Is this all right?” he asked.
“Yes, this is perfect.”
Soothed by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under her ear, she snuggled in closer. Jasmine traced Matthew’s chest with her fingertips and tried not to focus on the sound of a ticking clock somewhere in the room.
She imagined she was somewhere outside of time. Where it was only her and Matthew. Where they couldn’t be torn from each other again. Morning would come all too soon, and she would return home.
Why wasn’t she there now?
Certainly, her father wouldn’t allow this.
“Do my parents know where I am?”
“They were here earlier. My family too. Cassandra and Caroline dressed you. Everyone went home to rest. I talked them out of moving you until you woke.”
She was afraid of the answer, but she had to know. “What happened to me?”
“What do you remember?”
“It’s hazy,” she admitted. “After we argued, Duke Kendall met me in the hall. He mocked me, gave me punch, and then… nothing. Shadows. Voices.”
Matthew spoke slowly.
“Duke Kendall gave you laudanum. He admitted it,” he said. “He brought you to a room, put you on a bed”—his hold tightened—“and I attacked him. I almost strangled him. Then I carried you out of the manor and brought you here.”
“I was on a bed,” she repeated hollowly. “Did he…? Did we…?”
“I only touched you to carry you,” Matthew swore.
“You were fully clothed when I found you. Duke Kendall said he didn’t…
” His hands shook. “A physician examined you. He said there’s no indication of a violation.
I don’t know how invasive he was.” His voice became small.
“I hate to ask, but are you in any pain?”
She was in a lot of pain.
Her head throbbed, and her muscles ached. But the way Matthew was insinuating…
“No,” she said. “I don’t think so.”
“Thank God,” he breathed.
She searched her mind for a memory to hold on to. Matthew had carried her here, helpless and unconscious. Someone had examined her, changed her clothing, and multiple people had touched her.
“I don’t remember any of it,” she cried.
“It was chaos,” he said. “I caused a scene. The ton will be saying I abducted you after you drank yourself into a stupor. Duke Kendall orchestrated the entire thing, and we played right into his hands.”
“Why? Because I insulted him?” She scoffed. “Or to humiliate you?”
“I’ve been asking myself the same question. Maybe because he thought it was fun.” He gritted his teeth. “Or that I would go through with it, and he wanted to watch. He knew I wanted you. I was desperate, so he took matters into his own hands.”
“Because you’re friends.”
“I’ve certainly made him believe so,” he whispered. “Maybe too well.”
“What does Duke Kendall hold over you?”
He sighed—long and controlled—but his heart beat faster under her ear.
“Let’s not discuss it tonight. We’ve been through enough.”
“No, I want it out of the way. I need to know everything, Matthew. No more secrets.”
For a long moment, he was silent, and she worried he might not answer. When he spoke, his voice trailed.
“I don’t know how much you remember about my trial, but the House of Lords had it out for me from the start.
Thrashing Seth earned me a reputation for violence, and everyone knew I hated Bishop.
A family feud was motive enough, and the only witnesses were my ruined sister and bastard brother-in-law… ”
He paused, and she allowed him time to collect his thoughts.
“Right away, Blackmoor submitted a journal as evidence, where Sir Reginald outlined his plans for killing Cassandra. The last entry was wet. There were inconsistencies. It was rightfully questioned.”
“Why include it at all, if it was such an obvious forgery?”
“That’s the thing. Blackmoor swears the journal is legitimate. He hides information from us, but he doesn’t lie. I’ve never seen the journal—not that I would know Sir Reginald’s handwriting.” He sighed. “But Duke Kendall did. They corresponded often, and he was asked to testify.”
“And he vouched for it,” Jasmine whispered.
“Not for free,” Matthew said. “Before he took the stand, Duke Kendall came to me, and said he would help me, but only if I gave him the full story. Not the version the newspapers printed.”
He paused, and she waited for him to collect himself.
“He wanted details. What horror looked like on Cassandra’s face.
How loud she screamed. What gunpowder and blood smelled like in winter air.
How it felt to murder someone, and whether or not I enjoyed it.
” Trembling, he continued, “I thought I was facing the gallows, so I told him everything. That Cassandra screamed louder than the gunshot. How killing a man was no different than killing a dog—and it smelled the same. That I was relieved when he died, and that if given another chance I would do it again.”
Jasmine’s breath caught, and a shiver traveled up her spine. “You only killed him because you were protecting Cassandra.”
“No, I wanted him dead. He could have dropped the weapon, and I still would have shot him,” he said hoarsely. “He lowered his pistol, I had the shot to disarm him, but I waited until Cassandra was clear and I aimed for his head. That is what I do for my family.”
Jasmine’s heart broke for him.
“You’ve been living with this burden alone,” she whispered. “This regret—”
“I don’t regret it,” he ground out. “I’m not like Seth—I don’t have nightmares and wake up screaming. I sleep better knowing he’s dead. What kind of man does that make me? I’m no better than Duke Kendall.”
“That doesn’t make you a bad person. You had the chance to kill Duke Kendall tonight, but you didn’t—you kept me safe.”
“I’m no different. I have another confession to make.” He separated from her, bowed his head, then spoke so low she almost didn’t hear him. “I forced you into this courtship.”
“No, you didn’t.” She sat up and reached for him. “I proposed to you, remember?”
“Because I left you with no other option.” He leaned away from her touch. “I followed you to the wine cellar to seduce you—expecting we would be caught.” Guilt poured from his voice. “After I kissed you, I changed my mind, but it was too late. The door—”
“I locked the door,” she blurted out. “I had the key, and I locked us in. You didn’t trap me, I trapped you.”
Matthew’s jaw slackened. Jasmine’s stomach churned.
“You locked us in,” he repeated numbly. “Why?”
She winced, as if peeling back a bandage to learn the wound hadn’t healed. They were airing everything out. She needed to be honest with him.
“I had missed you so much, and the attraction was there. You said you had low standards for a wife—anyone would have done. We were friends. I trusted you.” Each word made her feel more and more wretched. “I hadn’t been able to fall in love, and you were—”
“Convenient.” He gave a self-deprecating scoff. “You asked for a marriage of convenience.”
“You had kissed me twice and hadn’t proposed! I thought you didn’t want to marry me! Why else would you leave?”
“Because I wanted to court you properly, to try to do the right thing! Blazes, Jasmine! What’s worse is I can’t be angry, because I got what I wanted.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Were you in love with me then?”
Jasmine paused, and Matthew waited.
Turning the key had been an act of desperation. She had loved him, had wanted him. But not like this, where she couldn’t breathe without him, couldn’t imagine a future that didn’t have him in it. Would she have the strength to push him away if that was best for him?
“No,” she admitted. “I didn’t love you then.”
He nodded.
The silence between them filled with the creaking of an old house, the ticking of a clock, and Matthew’s steady breathing. She didn’t know what to say, how to make it better.
“Please say something,” she whispered.
“My mind hasn’t changed.” As if in surrender, he said, “I want to be your husband, but I don’t want it like this, Jasmine. I don’t want to fight. I can’t force you to love me.”
She wanted to say something romantic, but the words kept spilling out of her.
She hadn’t fallen in love, but had grown into it.
Love hadn’t happened for her in one grand moment, but a collection of small ones.
Times when their eyes would meet over a table, when the sound of his voice eased her worries, and through countless smiles she had overlooked.
So sure that love should be wild and reckless, she had almost missed it completely.
All she had needed to do was open her eyes.
Matthew had always been there, and she had never truly seen him.
But she did now.
And Jasmine had a confession of her own to make.
“Matthew, I love you now.” Tears flowed from her once more.
“I want to be your wife. The woman you return to after a long day. To laugh with you, and have you hold me when I’m scared.
To hold you when you doubt yourself. I know you.
You aren’t evil or broken. You have my entire heart, and I love you—”
He pressed his lips to hers, and she melted into him. They fit together perfectly—as they had all along. Like a key opening a lock, welcoming her home.
“I’ve been in love with you since our first dance, Jasmine.
” And her heart ached with the longing in his voice.
“You were so nervous, your hands were shaking.” He gave a soft laugh.
“But when we danced, it was only me and you. You relaxed, giggled, and my heart soared. Like we were made for each other.” Holding her gaze, he whispered, “I have loved you in every moment since.”
“You should have said something. It would have made a difference.”
“I wanted to,” he said. “The timing was never right, and I had nothing to offer you, either way. When I finally did, I asked your father for his blessing.”
“And he gave it to you?”
“He’s given it to me four times now.”
She buried her head in his chest and fought wrenching waves of grief. He had waited an eternity for her—opening his watch to her portrait, counting the minutes slipping away from them.
“Why did you let me leave for Spain? You told me to leave. You shut a door in my face.”
“I couldn’t ask you to marry a murderer, have my children, and walk the streets in shame. Better for you to be a world away than bear the curse of being my wife.”
“I would have done it gladly,” she said. “Don’t push me away this time, let me love you.”
“Let’s do it right this time,” he whispered, pulling her close. He kissed her slowly. “How do you say ‘I love you’ in Spanish?”
She pressed her lips to his, allowing him to feel the words, “Te amo.”
Jasmine felt the smile on Matthew’s lips as he repeated, “Te amo.”
And in that moment, it was only the two of them. Who knew when they would be alone again? The future was unpredictable, and right now she only wanted him. Cupping Matthew’s face in her hands, she gazed into his amber eyes.
“Start over with me one more time,” she breathed. “Make love to me.”