“What?”
“You needed an excuse to run.” He points to the door. “Run now!”
His hand lowers. Jahleel begins to shake.
I put my palm on his chest to steady him. His skin is smooth and warm—too warm. How hard his heart pumps—it vibrates my fingers. “I need you well.”
“Youneedme?” Jahleel’s hand covers mine. “I’ve faithfully protected you, the Wilcox family, and your precious business for three years. You need my money, and you wish to marry me on my deathbed to regain custody of Lydia. How did you come to hate me so much?”
“No. No to all of that scheming. And I don’t hate you. I never wished you ill.”
“Ill? Or dead?” His face turns from me again. “Pretty much the same thing. But please don’t assume that illness makes me stupid. I need nothing from you. And you have nothing to give.”
“I’m the bad one, Jahleel. But don’t make me evil.”
“Again, sort of the same thing.” He winces. “You don’t know what it feels like, knowing I could’ve died at any moment, my child never knowing I’m her father or how much I love her.”
“Lydia knows how you feel.” I dip the cloth in the water that smells of citrus and vanilla, then pat his cheeks. “She’s known all along.”
Jahleel tries to shake his head, and I slip my palm to the back of his neck and use my fingers to massage the tension in his muscles.
His body relaxes. At least I’m useful to him.
“Katia, you know your fingers are perfectly sized. Always have been. Just like your feet.”
My feet? Did he still have that strange fascination with my feet? Never mind. I focus on reducing his pain. “I remember how your neck hurts you sometimes.”
“Guess you’re not completely evil.” He chuckles. “That’s good. Beauty and evil shouldn’t entwine. But it’s a bewitching combination.”
My fingers tremble. I don’t know from which, the insult or the compliment. How can he still think me beautiful when I’ve done so much wrong?
“So, Katia, let me address your true worries. Know that Lydia is in safe hands. Even in death, I will help thwart a scandal.”
“I hadn’t thought of scandal.”
He chuckles. “There’s always a scandal, when we, the outsiders, do something wrong.”
“Jahleel, what can anyone do to me? You’ve protected Lydia, and my two sisters are married. My reputation is no longer a concern.”
He drags my fingers from his neck. With his pinkie, he traces lines in my palm. “So brave and carefree. And I’m jealous of the long lifeline in your hands.” He sighs and fills his lungs. “Invincible and unbothered about the coal customers turning away from a scandalous woman. Amazing Katia, that sounds like growth.”
He smells of musk and heat, not like the sandalwood and pine I’m accustomed to. The man must be miserable.
“You’ll be fine. All cunning women are.”
My breath catches, not from the cutting talk, but from his fingertips—short, rounded nails trailing from the center of my palm to my wrist.
The sensual way he touches me—that’s part of the draw to him, a part I miss. He was a pleasurable minx with my toes. Perhaps all those old feelings of love will be easy to find.
“Does Wilcox Coal have customers outside of Mayfair? If so, you’ll be fine, Lady Hampton. Again, you don’t need me.”
The business? He’s talking about my father’s legacy and playing with my fingers.
He blows air onto my palm, air he struggled to capture. “You told me I won our bet. That I’m brilliant. But you forgot the terms changed. No marriage, but to be my mistress for a season.”
Jahleel pats the bed. “A season was fine for me, since I might not make dawn. Have at me.” He struggles and sits up a little. “Take your horrid boots off and climb up.”
“You’re telling me to have at you when you struggle for a breath? No, Jahleel, be easy. Lay back.”
