Chapter 48 Katherine—Dancing in the Light
KATHERINE—DANCING IN THE LIGHT
After spending a little more time with Lydia, making sure she knew none of those horrible words said about her or implied were true, I go to my chambers. I hear no noise in Jahleel’s room. He’s just resting. That’s what I tell myself.
Taking the mums out of my hair, I sit them on the vanity along with the necklace and Papa’s watch—two legacies entwined.
That makes me smile.
My maid hurries and helps me unpin and step out of my gown.
She has the closet open, exposing many colorful dresses that the modiste made.
Now I understand the intricacies. Jahleel created a wardrobe for his wife, his duchess, all along.
Yet the one gown near the rear, a jet-colored muslin with puffed sleeves and a pleated train, I wish he’d not had designed.
I wish it could be put in the fireplace and burned with Wilcox coal, but it’s practical.
Death is a part of life. It’s a part of our lives.
“Take these mums away, please.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” My maid nods and scoops them up. I wish never to wear a mourning gown and mums. Ever. But in my mirror, I see the truth. I’m not scared of the future, because I know there’s a lot of living and loving to be had now.
“Duchess, would you need anything more?” The maid straightens the sheer nightgown with silver ribbons that hang to my bare ankles. The frills of the sleeves swallow my wrists.
“No. Thank you for your assistance.” The young woman smiles. She stops at the door. “I’m glad you won, ma’am.”
Was she one of the servants who laughed at my dilemma? Perhaps. Everyone needs a second or third chance. But I’m happy that I’ve won, too. “Good night, but make sure breakfast for two is brought to the duke’s chambers a little after dawn.”
She bows and leaves. I stroke my father’s watch. It’s well past two. Perhaps I should’ve said noon. Nonetheless, I turn to open the connecting door and march inside.
Pushing into his chambers, I expect to see Jahleel sitting by his fireplace ready to admire me and my slippers.
No!
My heart thuds. Then stops.
My husband, my heart, lies on his bed, eyes shut, arms crossed, and fully dressed. He only sleeps fully clothed when he doesn’t think he’ll awaken.
Nooo! Trying to save me, he’s killed himself. “No. No. You pushed too hard for me.”
My strangled voice sounds like a whisper, barely more than the crackle of logs in his fireplace.
He can’t … He can’t die, not when he put all our pieces back together.
My knees shake. I sink to the floor, sobbing.
A blade unsheathes. A cylinder drops and rolls to my knees. “Katia, what’s the matter?”
Through tears, I see my love. Jahleel stands up. “Sorry, I … I was asleep.” He drops the blade that would’ve run through Prahmn or Palmers. The hand that can be dismissive stretches to me. “Take hold of me, Katherine Charles. Feel me. Know I’m alive. This is no dream. We won.”
I make my legs go forward. Then I run, my slippers flying over the furry rya, and leap at him, knocking him flat. “You’re fine. You’re fine!”
“And you’re in my arms, Katia, like you’re always meant to be.”
I touch his face.
His thumb traces mine. “Trust us?”
My heart beats louder than his. Jahleel holds me tighter, then kisses me. “No one’s going anywhere until you know how much I love you.”
“But I do know. I tried hard to convince you otherwise, but I’m glad you’re stubborn. Thank you, Jasha, for always knowing that we’re supposed to be together.”
His embrace feels stronger, but his touches are tender. “This is what I get for napping while I patiently await the hero’s reward Mamen’ka ordered.”
No more wasting time. My lips taste his. I might be shaking and tentative, but his love is patient. It’s kind. He scoops my face into his large palms and devours every kiss until neither of us has breath.
A moan dislodges from his throat. “Didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“And you don’t need to be fully dressed, Jasha. You don’t need to be dressed at all.”
“My tigress, be a good mistress-wife and help me disrobe.”
“I want you.” Those words tumble out first. The next should be I’ll love you forever, but the strategist knows. As fast as possible, I’m undoing buttons, ripping away his sash.
“Perfect pace, Your Grace, my Duchess of Torrance.” The growl in his tone makes my pulse race.
My fingers sink into the frogging; the braided silver feels stiff, but I get his shoulder free and help him take off the heavy jacket and fling it to the floor. There’s not a care in his eyes but to be with me.
Not sure if we’re falling back or hurtling forward, Jahleel has me off-balance.
His kiss is hungry, yet strategic. I don’t notice how he’s already made my robe fall away until he tows me to the center of the bed.
“What other name shall I call you? I must erase every negative word uttered tonight with blessings.”
“Calling me your wife is enough.”
“Never enough, never enough, my loving wife.”
My lips tingle. Everything does as my nightgown vanishes. “You make me dizzy.” I was a fool to resist him.
He kneels and puts my slippers to his thighs and makes a great show of undoing the bows, stripping away each until my toes are bare. He holds them against his chest, like they are a key, unlocking his passions.
Then he kisses the soles of my feet and unleashes mine.
Together we remove his undervest, but he lets me do the rest while his hands trail my hips and tickle my toes.
His smile is broad. “My wife.”
Dizzy with desperately growing passion, I sit up and cling to his shoulders, my fingers weaving into his curls. “You believed in us all this time.”
“Our marriage was valid. I’ve taken no mistresses other than you. The energy I expended dreaming of this reunion sustained me. And if you ever talk with Scarlett about the conditions she finds in courtesans and prostitutes at Bridewell, that will scare away any recklessness.”
He bites his lip. “But I’ve tried to find a wife, someone to make the loneliness and good days tolerable.
If I’d found someone, I might’ve gone to the Neva and released you, but then a letter would arrive from Tavis writing about you, or he’d sell me a painting you did.
One look at your watercolors taught me to hope.
If you truly decided against us, you’d not paint our St. Peters burg. The place where we were happy.”
“Jasha, it is a testament to you, that you never ever abandoned our love.”
“You’re hard to forget. Too beautiful and willful to not want to have another moment in your arms. But I must be completely honest.”
I brace for the worst, knowing we’ve already survived it. “Tell me, Your Grace.”
“Since coming to London, I’ve loved you, hated you, and again fallen unbelievably in love with you.”
“But if Tavis hadn’t died—”
“Shhh.” Jahleel kisses my lips. “Couples have difficulties. May he finally have rest knowing the full truth is exposed.”
Like the night I bathed him, Jasha and I roll up in sheets, except I’m the one without clothes. He nibbles down my neck. “Thank you for summoning me.”
Actually, Tavis asked me to write to Jahleel. Maybe it was his way of making things right. No need to quibble on this point. “Well, I’m summoning you now, Jasha.”
I work his shirt buttons and undo the pin in his cravat. We take kissing breaks every time an article of his clothing disappears.
Yet I hold onto the pin, his father’s pin. I remember what we’ve lost, the son who’d have inherited this. “We should talk about more children. I’d like to try.”
“Finish your work. Unclothe me, Tigress.”
With a nod, I slip my fingers across the smooth fabric of his shirt. The lawn is soft, good English linen. He helps rip it away. Once it’s freed, who knows where it lands.
The falls flap of his pantaloons tumbles. He stops disrobing, pops his head from the sheets and looks toward the bed table. “Katia …”
“What’s wrong? After bathing you, Jasha, you have no reason to be shy.”
“This is true. No maid has done a better job at restoring me.”
He teases but does nothing more than lie beside me with our hands entwined. He smells of sweet starch and something else. “What is that rich scent?”
“Myrrh. Good for inflammation.”
“And to bury kings.” I start blinking. Tears flow. “The confrontations were too much, too dangerous. Tell me you’re not pretending to be well. Or tell me you aren’t, and we’ll face everything together.”
My brave words drown in sobs.
Jahleel holds me, and I bawl like a babe. “It’s all over, Katia. All done. I did what I had to do. No matter the cost, everyone needed to see that I chose you and we are free.”
I swipe at my eyes. “If Prahmn or Palmers had tried to resist … if they tried …”
His hands find my hips; they fasten to me like I’m the door pull and he tows me atop him.
“I’m no weakling. I knew exactly what could occur.
I planned this. Fate gave me the order of villains and even absurd moments to rest. But neither man would beat me tonight, not when I fight with you, for you.
My love and pride are you. And Lord Ashcroft had the magistrate’s runners everywhere.
Things wouldn’t have gotten too out of hand. ”
His face lies below me, like the night we fell onto the bed after I bathed him. “I was a mistress to my husband. And you’ve just been my husband this whole time.”
“The idea of this keeps you weeping?”
“No. Maybe.” My hands are wet as I swipe my tears from his chin. “I wanted to be your mistress because part of me didn’t think I deserve to be your wife. You’re a better person than me. I have a bit of a jealous streak.”
“Couples have difficulties.” He chuckles, but his eyes speak to deeper sorrows. There are years we will never get back.
“Katia, it’s been tough being without you. You saw how the ton came after me. I didn’t want this fight to be yours or your father’s, not until I had the power and means to win. I deluded myself into thinking you’d still be waiting for me.”