18. The Face of Truth
Eighteen
The Face of Truth
K ate woke to pale morning light filtering through the curtains of her chamber. Her body, warm beneath the sheets, still held the memory of her husband’s hands among her wetness, stirring a desire so potent that it had cost her much of her sleep.
Every time she had closed her eyes through the night, she had felt him again. The mastery of his touch. The torturous pleasure of it. The way he had taken his time, as if he knew exactly what he was doing and had decided, with total deliberation, to make her lose all sense of the world.
And then…
This is all I can give you.
Those words kept coming back unbidden.
She buried her face in both hands, trying to alleviate the unbearable frustration growing inside her. What kind of husband said things like that? What kind of man touched his wife like that, with such skill and intensity, and then said that was all he could give her?
The anger was there, simmering beneath everything else.
But so was the crave. Because her body couldn’t forget now what he’d made her feel, how he’d played her like an instrument he’d mastered overnight.
The contradiction was insane, he clearly desired her, clearly knew how to pleasure her, and yet insisted on maintaining that unbearable boundary.
What was it that he didn’t yet have the courage to tell her?
She sat up, pushing the covers aside.
Through the window, she could already hear sounds of activity, the carpenter’s crew arriving, timber being unloaded. Another day of work ahead. Another day of proximity to the man who was simultaneously her greatest source of pleasure and her deepest frustration.
Kate rose and moved to the washbasin, splashing cool water on her face. In the mirror, her reflection stared back at her. Her cheeks were flushed, and light dark circles under her eyes betrayed her bad night. She sighed. She had to make a decision, and she would.
She couldn’t continue like this. This distance, these boundaries, this constant push and pull, it was driving her mad.
Last night had proven he wanted her. She had felt it in the way he pressed his body against hers, in his ragged breathing, in his honeyed voice; his desire was unmistakable, even as he focused completely on pleasing her.
So why he had pulled away?
Why was he so afraid?
She’d tried directness. She’d tried demands. She’d tried vulnerability. None of it had worked. Every attempt to break through his walls only made him retreat further behind that maddening politeness.
Kate dried her face slowly, her mind working through possibilities like a business problem to be solved. She needed a different approach. Something that would break down all his defenses.
But what exactly?
Molly knocked and entered with her morning dress, “Good morning, ma’am,” she greeted her. The practical gown in her hands suitable for overseeing work.
“Morning, Molly,” Kate responded distractedly.
As the maid helped her dress, her thoughts continued to spiral.
Perhaps… perhaps she’d been approaching this wrong.
Confrontation made him defensive. Demands made him withdraw.
But what if she did the opposite? What if instead of pushing, she pulled?
Instead of demanding answers, she simply made it impossible for him to keep resisting the magnetic desire that burned within them both?
The idea slowly took shape in her mind as Molly combed her hair.
Not open aggression, but a subtle invitation.
Not a confrontation, but pure, innocent temptation.
Perhaps not so innocent, after all. To make him desire her so intensely that his self-control finally shattered, that any secret he was keeping became less important than the need to possess her.
It was manipulative. It was deliberate. She knew it. But it was also possibly the only strategy she hadn’t tried. Not for real.
Molly finished the hairstyle, and Kate stood in front of the large mirror, observing herself from head to toe. The dress, the sensible hairstyle, nothing about her appearance suggested seduction. Good. Let him think she’d accepted his boundaries. Let him relax into that false security.
And then… then she’d see how long his control lasted.
She took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. The frustration was still there, the hurt of his repeated rejections. But now it had purpose, direction. Tonight, or tomorrow, or however long it took, she would break through whatever wall he’d built between them.
One way or another, she would have the truth.
* * *
By the time Kate emerged from the manor, the carpenter and his crew had already begun unloading timber from their wagon. The smell of fresh-cut wood mingled with the morning air, and the promise of a productive day seemed to energize everyone involved.
Kate paused at the top of the manor steps, her eyes immediately finding him .
Jason stood near the barn with Hartwell and a weathered man Kate assumed was the carpenter, their heads bent over what could well have been architectural sketches.
Even from a distance, she could make out the graceful way her husband gestured as he explained something with that characteristic manner that had captivated her from the start.
He looked… completely composed. As if last night had never happened. As if he hadn’t had his hands under her skirts just hours ago, hadn’t made her gasp his name, hadn’t left her trembling and wanting against that desk.
The sight of him, so perfectly put together, made something hot and sharp twist in her chest.
Fine.
If he could pretend nothing had changed, she could do better than that.
Kate descended the steps with all the grace she could muster, thus confirming the decision she had made since leaving her room.
If she had been uncertain this morning upon waking, if she still considered her new strategy and all the possibilities that made her hesitate; well, seeing him there, already sheltered behind his gentleman’s mask, made everything crystal clear.
She wouldn’t let him hide anymore.
A charming smile curved her lips. It was time to try being dangerous, after all.
“Mrs. Moore-Sullivan,” Hartwell called as she approached. “May I present Master Thornbury, our carpenter. He’s brought three men with him, and they’re eager to begin.”
The carpenter was a sturdy man in his forties with calloused, big hands. He touched his cap respectfully. “Ma’am. Your husband’s been explaining the scope of the work. It’s substantial, but nothing we can’t manage.”
Kate forced her attention to the carpenter only, “I’m pleased to hear it.” But she was acutely aware of Jason beside her, “my husband does have a talent for explaining things thoroughly.”
She could feel his gaze on her even without looking back.
Good. Let him look. Let him remember exactly what he’d walked away from last night.
When she finally turned to acknowledge him, she made sure to make direct eye contact. “Good morning, husband. I trust you slept well last night?”
The slight emphasis on ‘last night’ was purposeful.
Jason gave a small nod. “Well enough,” he replied, though he cleared his throat briefly, “And you?”
Kate smiled again. “Not enough. I had… much to think about.”
Something flashed in Jason’s eyes, suggesting he had caught the hidden meaning, but he dismissed it by going back to professional mode. “I was just telling master Thornbury that we’ll need the work completed before the next heavy rain. The tenant families are depending on proper storage.”
“Indeed they are,” Kate agreed, moving closer to examine the sketches. As she leaned in, her shoulder brushed his arm. A contact that seemed entirely accidental but wasn’t exactly so. “These plans look comprehensive. You’ve thought of everything.”
“I try to be… thorough,” Jason replied, and there was something in the way he said it that made Kate’s pulse quicken slightly.
Master Thornbury, oblivious to the undercurrent between his employers, pointed to a section of the drawing. “We’ll start with the damaged section here, strip it back to sound timber, then rebuild from there. Should have the worst of it sorted by midday if the weather holds.”
“Excellent,” Kate said, “and what can we do to assist? I don’t believe in standing idle while others work.”
The carpenter looked somewhat surprised. “Well, ma’am, if you’re willing, we could use someone to keep track of materials, make sure we have what we need when we need it.”
“Perfect. I have some experience with inventory management.” Kate turned to Jason with a challenging look. “And you, husband? Surely you won’t let me work alone?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied, accepting her challenge with a small smile. “Though I should warn you, I can be quite demanding when it comes to quality standards.”
“Oh, I remember,” Kate said, her voice carrying just enough emphasis to suggest she wasn’t talking entirely about construction work. “You do like things done… in a certain way.”
Their gazes crossed. Her eyes sparkled; his darkened.
Then Vikram bounded over, full of morning energy and excitement about the day’s work ahead.
“Can I help too?” he asked eagerly. “I could carry things, or hold tools, or—”
“You can be my assistant,” Kate told him warmly. “Every good supervisor needs someone to help keep track of details.”
As the work began in earnest, Kate fell into an easy rhythm alongside her husband.
They moved around each other with a newfound familiarity, comfortable after the intimacy they had shared, but without resolving the underlying tension between them. The events of the previous night had left something different in the air, even though the questions remained unanswered.
“Hand me those nails,” Jason called from where he was helping to position a beam.
Kate approached with the requested supplies, deliberately brushing her fingers against his as she transferred them.
“Careful with those,” she said with a very soft voice. “They’re quite sharp.”