Chapter Seventeen
Lady Bright gave Delia a clean bill of health, and she was soon luxuriating in a bath and then being dressed in new clothing of a much higher quality than anything she had ever worn.
The maid also insisted on styling her hair, so that a stranger looked back at her from the looking glass—an elegant lady with ringlets that tumbled around her familiar face—still common brown, like her eyes, but both somehow prettier than she had ever seen them.
She was wearing a gown of dark red, richly embroidered in greens and golds.
It must have cost the equivalent of the income from an entire harvest back home.
Jasper’s voice in her head had been silent since their exchange before the arrival of the healer, but she found herself wishing he would come now, to see this new her—this exquisite creature who looked as if she belonged in Jasper’s world.
Thinking of him must have alerted him, for he was suddenly speaking in her mind. Delia? Did you need me for something? Is something wrong? I am on my way now.
Nothing is wrong, Delia assured him. I shall see you shortly, then.
He must have been close by, for she only had time to move to a chair near the sofa that was occupied by Lady Margate and her skirts, and to say, “Jas—Lord Baradine is coming. I should like to see him.” The knock on the door coincided with her last word.
She could sense Jasper’s presence on the other side.
The maid checked for Lady Margate’s nod and then answered it. “She is expecting you, my lord.” She stepped out of the way, and then Jasper was in the room, examining her with both his eyes and his mage senses.
“You are better,” he said, relief coloring every word.
“I am. Come in and have a seat, Lord Baradine.” Delia waved to the chair next to her own.
Instead of sitting, he dropped to his knees next to her chair. “I am so sorry,” he said. “I should have realized that translocation would rip your mage-gift out of the world around you. I hurt you.”
“How could you have known?” Delia asked.
“When you collapsed, I…” Jasper must have remembered they had an audience, for he trailed off and cast a pleading look at Lady Margate, who suddenly remembered something she wanted to discuss with the maid.
“We shall just stand in the passage outside,” she told the maid, and added, to Delia and Jasper, “The door shall remain open, and I shall not be long.”
In the next moment, Delia was alone with Jasper.
“When you collapsed,” Jasper said, picking up the threads of his last remark, “I realized how I felt about you. Delia, I desired you from our first meeting, though I knew it was wrong of me. I admired you then, too. You were so calm, so collected, so competent. The more I came to know you, the more I respected and esteemed you.”
He placed his hands around hers, grasping them lightly. “I cannot pinpoint when desire and admiration ripened into love. Indeed, I hardly knew it myself until I thought I might lose you. When the mage attacked you, I nearly lost my mind in anger and grief. When you collapsed yesterday…”
With a shudder, he added. “And to realize that my own failure to consider the nature of your gift caused that pain! Delia, my love, when I said last week that I need you, that is what I meant. You have my heart. You are my heart. If you are determined not to marry me—then I shall abide by your wishes and make certain that the Prince Regent and the Council of Mages do likewise.”
His eyes were intent on hers, as he pleaded, “But even if you cannot love me, Delia, I beg you to reconsider. Marry me, not for duty but out of pity. I shall love you enough for both of us. And I shall never try to control you, or shape you, or make you do or be anything. You shall be free to be yourself, and I shall be your Jasper, content to worship you.”
An errant part of Delia was still dispassionately observing while the remainder of her mind and soul rejoiced at Jasper’s declaration.
That observing part wondered how long the dragon lord could be a humble worshipper before trying to order her around again.
But then, she didn’t want to control or shape him. She loved him as he was.
“I shall not marry you out of duty, nor out of pity, either,” she said, and was reassured she was about to do the right thing by the devastated expression on his face.
She hastened to say, “I shall marry you because I love you, too, Jasper.” That was as far as she got before he surged toward her and enfolded her in a hug so tight that her breath huffed out of her.
“You mean it? You will marry me?” he demanded, but his lips descended on hers before she could reply, so she poured her affirmation into meeting his ravenous lips with a fervor that caught fire from his, so their mutual passion spiraled upward and they lost themselves in the touch, scent, taste of one another.
After an uncounted stretch of minutes, Lady Margate’s sarcastic tones penetrated their passion. “One trusts, given this display, that Lady Cordelia has accepted Lord Baradine’s proposal.”
“One trusts,” said the cultured tones of another lady, “that the wedding will follow in short order.”
“Indeed,” a third lady agreed.
“Today, if possible, and if Lady Cordelia agrees,” said Jasper, whose lips had reluctantly left hers, but whose arms still held her in a close embrace.
Delia was too breathless to reply in words, but she nodded, and said in Jasper’s mind, I agree.
“Today is not beyond the bounds of possibility,” Lady Margate allowed.
“Lady Hardcastle, perhaps you would be kind enough to take Lord Baradine and introduce him to the archbishop? Lady Pendleton, please let Findlater know we shall require his chapel and his chaplain. Lady Cordelia, do you have any preferences about what you shall wear to your wedding?”
Do not let her push you into anything you do not want, Jasper said mind-to-mind. If she tries to persuade you against your own wishes, let me know and I shall fight your battle for you. This is our wedding, not hers, and not anyone else’s.
Did he think her so weak? True, she was not in the habit of standing up for herself, but she was more than tired of letting others make decisions for her. Besides, she was competent. Jasper said so. I shall tell her what I want, she promised. But if she ignores me, I shall rely on you.
“Are you ready, Lord Baradine?” asked the lady addressed as Lady Hardcastle. “We shall translocate to Doctor’s Common. Follow my mage trace.”
Jasper gave Delia one more kiss—hard and quick—and then he and the lady were gone.
*
When they met in the duke’s chapel five hours later, Jasper had eyes for no one except his bride.
How beautiful she was! And after the ceremony, she would be his, all his, in the eyes of God and the church, as well as in his own mind.
He would be hers, too, of course. He made a mental note to avoid phrases that sound as if he owned her or thought of her as a possession.
Lady Hardcastle—as Dean of the College of Mages, she was one of the most powerful ladies in the realm—had rolled over the clerks who tried to get between her and the man whose job it was to prepare special licenses for the archbishop’s signature.
When they reached him, that man, too, assured them that the process must take several hours, at least, and no, Lady Hardcastle could not see His Grace the Archbishop. He was no match for Lady Hardcastle, however, and within a few minutes, they were ushered into the esteemed gentleman’s presence.
It was Lady Hardcastle who had found out how to contact Captain Harewood, and now the captain was standing at Jasper’s elbow, ready to witness the wedding as Jasper’s best man.
He had wondered who would stand up with Delia, but a glance showed that the man beside her, telling Findlater’s chaplain that he gave “this woman”, was the Prince Regent.
Sister Louise was behind his highness and was now taking the man’s place as Delia’s attendant and witness.
He would remember every part of the ceremony until his dying day, especially the vows, his said in a firm voice that reached every part of the large chapel, hers quieter but equally decisive.
And then it was done. “I now pronounce you man and wife,” said the chaplain. Delia was his!
*
Lady Margate had been keen to entertain them all at a celebration, using Findlater’s kitchen, servants, and parlor. Jasper, after a quick mental consultation with Delia, firmly refused.
“My lady was sorely wounded yesterday, and needs her rest,” he told the dignitaries who had assembled to see their dragon lord marry their catalyst. Someone whispered, not quite low enough to go unheard, “He cannot wait to get her into bed.” Which was no more than the truth, but nobody stopped him when he picked Delia up and marched outside with her.
Levitation. It would be faster than walking. By the time he reached the chapel door, his feet were already several inches above the ground and had stopped moving, his forward motion caused entirely by his will.
“Are we going to your tower?” Delia asked. “Translocation a short distance probably won’t hurt me.”
He kissed her, short and sweet. “I am not taking the risk.”
The bushes and trees of the park were rushing past as his will propelled them toward his refuge.
“We shall be there in no time,” she observed.
She sounded pleased at the thought, so he kissed her again, though the need to avoid obstacles prevented him from lingering on her lips.
Ah! Here they were, or almost. Their destination was the room at the very top of the fifty-four-foot tower, up one hundred and fifty-two steps. “Are you certain you are fully recovered?” he asked.
“I am,” she assured him.
Even so, to be careful, he translocated to his sitting room on the second floor and checked that she was still feeling well. Then he hopped them to his library on the fourth before making the final jump to his bedchamber on the fifth. “We are here,” he said, setting her feet first on the floor.
“You were in a hurry,” she observed.
Was he rushing her too much? “We do not have to… I mean, I do not mean to rush you. We can wait.”
Delia’s smile was brilliant. “I am not complaining, my love. I do not want to wait. I am eager to find out what all these feelings in my body are for. But you will need to tell me what to do. I have only observed poultry and horses.”
Not for the first time, Jasper thanked whatever saints and angels were watching that he had been blessed with a lady both practical and honest. “It will be my privilege and my pleasure to show you,” he said.
And so he did.
The first time had its awkward moments, but was sweet and satisfying. They slept a little, and woke and reached for one another. The second time was better. Jasper was in less of a rush, and Delia managed to climax twice.
After that, he helped her wash and then fed her treats from a tray he translocated from a table in his room in the mansion, to which it had been delivered on the orders he’d given the kitchen before the wedding.
They lay in one another’s arms, eating candied fruit and nuts, drinking wine, and talking.
“Will his highness and the duke need you again today?” Delia asked.
“Not today,” said Jasper. “I have been given the rest of the day off to spend with you.” Not that there was much day left. A glance at his window showed the colors of sunset in the sky. He caught up her hand and kissed it, then stole the candied cherry she had been holding.
“What is left of it,” she said, echoing his thoughts. “I understand, Jasper. There is a war on.”
“They are trying to work out how best to use a half-trained dragon mage. Less than half-trained. We need the advantage, Delia my love. Napoleon’s forces are overrunning Spain and advancing into Portugal.
Our king is insane. He is convinced he is surrounded by French spies and our healers are wearing themselves out trying to keep him from murder or worse. ” He sighed.
“And he must be correct about one individual, for someone planted the curse. The trouble is, we have no idea whom. As well as that, the Welsh are as troublesome as ever. By the way, there’s a rumor that the mage who tried to abduct you is still alive, and recovering from his injuries.
And the Americans are running ships full of food and ammunition to the French and then screaming about piracy when we stop them.
I will spend as much time with you as I can, my love, but England needs me. ”
“Jasper, is there any way I can help?” Delia asked. “I should like to visit Sister Louise, Polly, and the babies, and then I want work to do.”
“In history,” said Jasper, slowly, as the thoughts crystalized in his mind, “catalysts were always advisors to their dragon and the ruler of the day. You and I should both spend time each day on learning to manage our magic, but if you want to come to meetings with me, you can. I would welcome your common sense and your fresh perspective.”
“I am pleased to give you my opinion, my dearest,” said Delia, in a tone that suggested she doubted her own abilities. “I can do that when it is just the two of us. I do not need to insert myself into a meeting with those who rule our world.”
He understood her hesitation. “My love,” he said.
“Inside, I am still the boy who never lived up to his potential, even though we now understand why. And you are still the girl whose parents never realized what a jewel they had. But we are also the dragon lord and the catalyst, and no one except the Prince of Wales has more right to be heard.”
“Hmm,” she said. “Perhaps. I shall think about it.”
“Not tonight, though,” he told her. “Tonight, in this bedchamber, there is no war, no curse, no meetings. Only you and I. Shall we return to bed? Or are you too sore?”
She shook her head. “Not sore at all,” she assured him, “and I think I am beginning to get the knack of this.”
She was, for on that third occasion, Jasper could swear he had been transported to Heaven. Tomorrow, he would worry about saving the realm. Tonight, he had his darling in his arms, and all was right with his world.