12. The First Dance #2
“Forgive me,” he said softly, but he didn’t look regretful. His eyes held hers, questioning, waiting for her response.
Kate knew she should step back, should reassert the boundaries that had kept them both safe until this very moment. But she found herself doing just the opposite.
With the hand resting on his shoulder, she caressed his face—without being fully conscious of what she was doing, or perhaps not wanting to think about it.
And with her fingertips, she traced the line of his jaw with delicate curiosity.
Jason remained completely motionless beneath her touch, barely breathing, as if he feared that any movement would break the spell that had taken hold of them.
“This isn’t part of our arrangement either,” she whispered.
And then—surprising both herself and him—she closed the remaining distance and kissed him. Not on the cheek, as he had done at the altar; not as theater for witnesses who weren’t even present. This was a kiss born of impulse and desire, rather than duty or necessity.
Jason froze for a moment as Kate’s lips gently pressed against his, lingering there like a question mark for a few seconds.
But then he responded with a slight movement of his mouth, and his lips took hers with such tenderness that it made her knees tremble.
He pressed his hand lightly against her waist, not possessively, but making his presence felt, holding her as if he understood she was venturing into new, unknown territory.
If only she knew how much.
The kiss lasted only seconds, a simple recognition of lips that weren’t hers, but that felt as if they were.
Two mouths exploring each other delicately, just long enough for Kate to realize that everything she thought she knew about herself, about her feelings, about the distance she intended to maintain, had suddenly and irrevocably changed.
She pulled back first, her eyes wide with shock at her own actions. What had she done? What did this mean for their agreement, their mutual understanding, their practical partnership?
“I shouldn’t have—” she began, stepping backward and nearly stumbling over the hem of her dress in her haste to put distance between them.
“Kate—” Jason reached out as if to steady her, but she was already turning away.
“Goodnight, Jason,” she said quickly before fleeing toward the house, leaving him alone in the moonlight, beside the gurgling of the main fountain, and with the phantom sensation of her kiss on his lips.
Jason didn’t follow. He remained by the fountain, slowly raising his fingers to his lips where Kate’s had been seconds before.
His expression was a complex mixture of triumph and guilt, satisfaction and concern, hope and fear.
A fear that threatened to become panic as his heart raced wildly in his chest.
He closed his eyes.
What he really wanted? Or she? The woman below this masculine facade? The woman who had to disguise herself as a man in order to be her true self. Not because she despised her female body, but because her female body betrayed her wishes in this life.
It wasn’t that she wanted to be a man. It wasn’t that she yearned for masculine power or to live in a man’s skin.
She yearned to be free—free to speak without being silenced, to act without apology, to move through the world without being questioned, doubted, diminished.
To claim space, claim ownership, claim a future.
That future had required a name and a shape the world respected. So she became Jason Moore. Not a rejection of Gina, but a shield for her. A banner under which she could march.
But standing here now, the taste of Kate still lingering on her lips, she didn’t feel like a soldier or a strategist. She felt like a woman who had just been kissed by someone she wanted, deeply, desperately—and who had kissed her back.
A woman who wanted another woman.
There was no shame in it, not for her. That part had long been settled in the silent corners of lonely nights and whispered confessions to herself. But desire was one thing. Being desired in return? Being seen, even unknowingly, and still wanted?
That was different. That was terrifying.
She wondered what Kate had seen in that moment. What she had tasted. If the lines between mask and truth had blurred. If she had kissed Jason, or if somehow—impossibly, miraculously—she had kissed Gina.
And what would she do if she ever found out?
Jason lowered his hand and looked back at the house. The night had swallowed Kate whole, but her presence still clung to the air like the scent of roses crushed underfoot.
This was not the plan. This was not safe. And yet, for the first time in her life, Gina didn’t want safe.
She wanted real.
Even if it meant everything she built might come crashing down.
“Goodnight, Kate,” Jason and Gina both whispered to the empty garden.
Kate burst into her bedroom as if fleeing imminent danger, slamming the door behind her and leaning against it as if she could physically block out what had just happened.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she clutched it, trying to calm her racing heartbeat.
Her cheeks were so hot she dared say they were a deep red.
“Ma’am? Is everything all right?” Jane’s voice came from the dressing room, followed by the sound of rustling fabric.
“Fine,” Kate managed, though her voice sounded strained even to her own ears. “I’m fine.”
Jane emerged carrying Kate’s nightgown, took one look at her mistress, and immediately set the garment aside. “You look… troubled.”
Kate pushed away from the door, moving to the window that overlooked the garden.
From there, she could see Jason, still by the fountain.
Jason… at what specific moment had he ceased to be Mr. Moore for her?
She couldn’t say. He was simply Jason now, and it was Jason she saw pacing beside the fountain, running his hands through his hair in a state of agitation very much like her own.
“I’ve made a mistake, Jane,” Kate said quietly.
“The marriage?” Jane asked with gentle concern.
Kate touched her lips, which still tingled from the memory of his kiss. “No. Something worse.” She turned from the window, unable to watch him any longer. “I kissed him.”
Kate stated and Jane’s eyebrows rose, but to her credit, she smiled.
“I see,” Jane said carefully. “And… how do you feel about that?”
Kate sank into the chair by her dressing table, suddenly exhausted by the emotional upheaval of the day. “Confused. Terrified. Exhilarated.” She laughed shakily. “Everything I swore I wouldn’t feel about this… arrangement. Or about any men in general.”
Jane moved behind her, beginning to remove the pins from Kate’s hair gently. “Perhaps,” she said thoughtfully, “feelings aren’t something you can arrange away, no matter how practical your intentions.”
Kate met Jane’s eyes in the mirror. “What am I going to do? We have an agreement, clear terms, mutual understanding of what this marriage is and isn’t. And now…”
“Now you’ve discovered you’re human,” Jane said simply. “With human feelings and desires, regardless of what contracts you’ve signed.”
Kate closed her eyes as Jane’s fingers worked through her hair, the familiar ritual somehow soothing despite her inner turmoil.
“He’s hiding something, Jane. I’m certain of it.
There are too many inconsistencies, too many things that don’t quite add up about his past, his background, his sudden appearance in London. ”
“Does that change how you feel about him?”
Kate considered the question seriously. Did it? Should it?
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Part of me thinks I should be more concerned about his secrets. But another part…” She trailed off, unable to articulate the growing trust she felt above her rational concerns.
“Another part is willing to give him the benefit of the doubt?”
“Something like that.” Kate met Jane’s knowing gaze in the mirror again. “Is that foolish?”
“I don’t think wanting to trust someone is ever foolish,” Jane said gently. “Especially someone who’s shown you nothing but respect and consideration.”
Kate thought about the way Jason had kissed her palm, the tenderness in his touch, the way he had responded to her impulsive kiss without taking advantage of her momentary vulnerability.
“What if this changes everything between us?” she asked. “What if we can’t go back to the way things were?”
Jane smiled widely now, beginning to brush Kate’s long hair with slow, soothing strokes. “Who says you’d want to go back? Maybe some changes are worth embracing, even if they’re scary.”
Kate sat in contemplative silence as Jane prepared her for bed, her mind replaying every moment of the evening—the ceremony, the reception, the dance, the kiss.
Especially the kiss. She had initiated it, which meant she couldn’t blame impulse or his influence or the romantic setting.
She had wanted to kiss him, had chosen to cross that line despite all her planning to the contrary.
And she knew that wasn’t the first time she wanted to do it.
The question now was what she would do about it. How she would face him tomorrow, and all the tomorrows after that, knowing that their arrangement had become something infinitely more complicated.
Outside her window, the garden was finally empty.
Mr. Moore had gone inside, leaving only moonlight and the memory of their dance lingering in the space where they had discovered that some things—desire, attraction, the pull between two people—couldn’t be negotiated away with contracts and mutual agreements.
Kate touched her lips once more, remembering the warmth of his mouth against hers, the touching softness of his lips, the irresistible quality of his kiss, and wondered if she would be brave enough to find out where this unexpected turn of events would lead them.
Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new questions, new possibilities. But tonight, for the first time since her father’s death, Kate fell asleep not thinking about business concerns or social obligations or practical necessities or even the weight of her recent loss.
Tonight, she dreamed of dancing in the moonlight with a man whose secrets she was finally ready to uncover—whatever the cost to her safe and ordered world.
And with a kiss that had touched parts of her body that she didn’t know could feel that way.