Chapter 48 Katherine—Dancing in the Light #2
He kisses my cheek, then my mouth, then that spot along my throat that makes me purr. “You’ll just have to wake me up with love at dawn. Remind me at sunset. And then love me anew at midnight. That’ll make up for lost time.”
He savagely kisses me and loops his fingers into my curls, keeping me close as he ravishes my bosom.
It’s topsy-turvy, upside down, spinning.
He’s on top. The sheets shift around. Then his arms surround me again, holding me.
I’m not concerned with his strength, not anymore.
These arms with bloodletting scars keep me close to his heart.
The scent of myrrh covers everything. The spice is a blessing, another way to celebrate our love.
He takes a pin from my braids, and curls fall. “I’m grateful for a second or third chance.”
Our hands link, fingers weave together. I prepare to be his and only his, but he rolls to my side.
His passion ceases again.
“What? What is the matter?”
“Carew visited for a moment. He said Thom’s eye responded to the light when he changed his bandages. He’ll know more in a few days, but it’s a good sign. The physician repeated some of the old man’s plans for his sons. They’ll do well with Thom-Wilcox.”
That’s good. I try to kiss Jahleel, but he keeps me away.
“Katia, you’re right. London has the best care. The Carews will lead the way in their new hospital.”
I resign myself to talking. “Stephen and Scarlett will do so much. Thank you for believing in my sister.”
“She’s a powerful Wilcox woman. They’re hard to ignore.”
I lean in to kiss him, but he escapes the sheets and brings the cup of tea closer.
“You don’t need that.” I wink at him and rub my hands on his chest. “You’re thick enough.”
His grin widens, then disappears. “I requested this for you. Carew brought the latest of Scarlett’s teas. It has a little penny-royal and a little rue.” His gaze seems tense but loving. “It will reduce fertility.”
He holds the cup for me and waits.
“We should discuss this,” I say, but who wants to argue when I’m in his bed? “You still need an heir.”
His hazel eyes share his wounded heart. But his mouth says, “Let us have a season where we just love each other with no worries. And I want to love you so badly, but I need to care for my wife and shield her from more suffering.”
If it were even possible to doubt his sincerity, his thoughtfulness, or even his care, a moment like this banishes all fears. “These herbs are not infallible, Jahleel. And the hidden room … could’ve created dozens of sons.”
“Then we’ll know that any babe that survives wants to be here. Our son must be a fighter, proving he’ll breathe air and will keep his sister and mother safe. Let me win this point for now.”
His eyes aren’t hopeless, but show a wisdom of soaking in the present. “Take the tea, Katia. Then have at me. I dutifully submit.”
Three sips, that’s all I’ll do. “I’m not afraid of giving you all of me. And if the worst happens, wouldn’t having a son reminding me of your smile or another sister with your eyes for Lydia be worth the risks?”
He accepts the slightly consumed cup and returns it to the table. “Just a season, Katia. We’ve earned a moment of no fear. And I’m not dying tonight.” His hands slip about me. “But if I did die before dawn, in your arms, wearing your body for eternity is the way to heaven.”
“I wish I could give us back those years.” I glance away, staring at the ornate headboard, remembering how close we came to losing everything. “My stubbornness robbed you. It kept me from remembering what a good man I’ve loved.”
He flicks tears from my jaw. “But you will forgive yourself. And we’ll rebuild time. We’ll celebrate every Saturday like it’s a birthday. We’ll rotate through the family, so everyone partakes. Oh, how many memories we will collect. No one will forget what joy feels like.”
His kiss tastes bittersweet—the medicine tea, the realization that the strategist and the headstrong lady can’t change the world, just ours. Passion takes over, and Jahleel makes time stretch.
I embrace him, then reach to blow out the candle. “You do good work in the dark, Jahleel.”
“Let’s leave the light on, Katia. I want to see you, memorize every second.”
There are fresh tears in his eyes. Oh, how I want sadness far from us. “Well, I have a new gamble for you, Jasha,” I tease. “If you win, I’ll be your mistress forever.”
“Mistress and wife? And if I lose, Katia?”
“Then you will be my lover and husband forever. And you must love me forever.”
Intense hazel eyes darken. “Do you know what forever means?”
I stroke his face, drawing him back. My fingertips become a scribe, capturing and recording his dimples, wariness, and the desperate love he has for me. “It means today plus one more happy moment. And those happy moments will sustain me for my eternity.”
“Today, plus one moment. Good gamble. And what do we do for this gamble? What are the terms to determine the winner?”
“Let’s see who loves the other more each day. I think we’ll have to have daily winners.”
“Good plan, Katia.”
We move, inching together until our lips touch.
This kiss is soft like we are ghosts—timid, like the candle will brighten and fade this dream.
Then we live.
Jahleel holds nothing back. My mouth on him savors strength, hope, and unity. With my face in his fevered palms, he whispers, “Being your lover and you being my wife, I’ll take that deal, but you already knew that. Smart duchess.”
I did. I do.
We do … we are one, holding onto love for another moment. And another. I taste forever in his kiss.