My mouth opens. I know it hangs wide for a moment. It takes him releasing our linked palms for me to regain my composure. “You … you want to spend more money on me? Why?”
“Da. It will please me. I just don’t want it to look like I’m overstepping or doing something nefarious. I owe you.”
“No. No. I’m indebted.”
“You broke my fever. I’m alive because of you. I think my point wins. I want you dressed like a present—my present.”
I see him trying to dismiss his kindness in jokes or a show of his commanding will. The humor is a cloak to hide behind. Why hadn’t I understood this before?
I’ve ruined him, because he must hide his true nature. And must suffer knowing that I caused all of this. I’ve more clarity since I spent the night praying outside this room on the floor and the day juggling numbers while counting all the ways I’m at fault. “Yes. Make me a present. Something that inspires you.”
“You agree so easily?” His gaze cuts to me, then to his saints on the ceiling. “Well, I’m glad for this.”
He thinks I’m lying. I pull my hands behind my back and stand up tall. “Jahleel, I don’t think I ever thanked you for the dress you had made for me for the first ball you threw in London.”
“It was good. You looked … beautiful.” The tension in his face that he’d tried to hide fades. Then, as if he’s exposed, his eyes close. “My pleasure.”
“You look even better than this morning. Did you go outside? It was a good day. Bright and sunny.”
“No, just stood by the window. It was enough.” He peers again at me, toward the light curtains. “Mr. Steele said you didn’t return until dark. You think that is safe?”
“I am careful, but I came back. I don’t intend on going back to the house on Ground Street—”
“Till you are sure I’m not going to die?”
“Jahleel, my daughter’s here.” I whirl around the bed saying,“My daughter.” Then I grab the ornate footboard. “Do you know how good it is to say that?”
His expression sharpens. The familiar look of hurt and annoyance war with the pleased press of his lips. “I know. I’m just experiencing that joy now, too.”
I want to saysorryagain. Still don’t know if my words will be believed. Nothing but time will make him forgive me.
“No sadness,” I say, burying mine. “It’s time for ‘mistressing.’”
The unease remains in his hazel eyes—eyes that follow me as I return to his side.
“Let’s start with a kiss.” I close my eyes, lean down to him.
Smack!!!
My lips crash into a book.
Chapter 20
KATHERINE—NOT INHISBED
My mouth hurts. I think I bruised my lips. I rear back and clutch at the buttons of my carriage gown—buttons that will stay buttoned as I glance at Jahleel.
Lying in his bed, he doesn’t look humored. There are worries etched in his thin face. “Did not mean for you to hurt. And I’m not up to romance.”
My turn to glance at the saints painted above his bedchamber. “Is that it? Too many saints marching into your chamber, above your head? Should we move to my room? It’s crowded with furnishings, but not the sacraments.”
“The marriage bed is holy, or so I have read.”
I shake my head and put a knee on his mattress.
He gently shoves it off. “No. Katherine, I think I’m more partial to reading. I’d rather you begin with this.” He slides the book to me.
I take it. It’s ragged and worn. Creases gather along the spine. “You want me to read?”
