18. The Face of Truth #2
“I’ll be sure to handle them… gently,” he replied, and the way he said it made her cheeks warm in an instant.
Kate tilted her head with a teasing smile, and lowering her voice, she said, “I would hate for you to damage those delicate, very capable hands of yours… they do so much, and I’d lament losing that skill.”
Jason stared at her. “Don’t worry. I’ll be careful enough that you won’t have to lament anything.”
She held his gaze for another instant before returning to her work, a mischievous smile on her lips.
Throughout the morning, the crew worked with efficiency, their progress visible in the growing stack of salvaged timber and the cleared space where new beams would go.
Kate was inspecting the latter, checking their surface with her eyes, when Jason appeared beside her with a measuring rod. “You’re doing this all wrong,” he said with mock criticism.
“Am I?” Kate straightened her posture, one hand on her hip, the other resting on the timber. “And I suppose you have a better method?”
“Much better,” he said, approaching from behind her left shoulder. “You can’t just look at them. You can’t see the internal cracks.” His hand covered hers on the beam, guiding it slowly along the wood. “You have to feel the grain. Do you notice the difference there?”
Kate was acutely aware of his proximity, the warmth of his hand over hers, the way his voice had dropped to something more intimate despite their public setting.
“I think I’m beginning to understand,” she whispered seductively.
“Good,” he said softly, his breath stirring the hair at her temple. “You’re a quick learner.”
His proximity was not casual at all—she knew it, he knew it, and the tension building between them proved it. Kate let herself lean back slightly, just enough that her shoulder brushed his chest, just enough to feel him stiffen behind her.
When he stepped away quickly, she had to press her lips together.
“Mr. Moore-Sullivan! Mrs. Moore-Sullivan!” Vikram’s voice broke the spell. “Master Thornbury wants to show you something!”
Kate cast a furtive glance at Jason as she turned toward him, just enough to notice the flush on his cheeks and the slight tremor in his hands as he unnecessarily adjusted his shirt collar.
They both fell into step as they walked toward where Master Thornbury waited, close but not touching, and let Vikram’s chatter fill the space between them.
She was doing this deliberately now. She understood that much.
The finger brush had been calculated, the lean had been calculated, the whisper had been calculated, and each time Jason had responded exactly as she had hoped.
Which meant she was doing something right, even if she couldn’t have said precisely what.
That was the part that unsettled her. She had no method.
No reference point beyond instinct and observation and the memory of his hands.
Every move she had made so far had arrived fully formed from somewhere she didn’t entirely recognize in herself, and she wasn’t certain she could repeat any of it on purpose without it feeling like a performance.
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He had recovered his composure almost entirely. Almost.
She needed to think about this more carefully. Study it the way she studied a new route or an unfamiliar contract, identify the variables, understand the mechanics, proceed with intention rather than accident.
The thought made her want to laugh at herself.
She was attempting to approach seduction like a shipping manifest.
Perhaps, she conceded privately, some things could not be learned from a ledger.
* * *
The day unfolded successfully in every respect, thought Kate at the end of it. There had been good progress on the repairs, no injuries had been reported, and the team had worked in a coordinated manner under their employers’ supervision.
But today she measured success differently.
Every fleeting glance she had caught from Jason; every moment she had seen his composure falter, even slightly; every time he had come close enough to her only to quickly back away, as if he had changed his mind; all of it was leading him toward a point of no return, like water nearing its boiling point.
That night after supper though, Kate spent most of it thinking about all that had happened since they left London three days ago.
Three days.
It seemed impossible that such a short span of time could contain so much upheaval, so many moments that felt like turning points in a life she thought she understood.
She lain awake in the unfamiliar bed at Thornfield, staring at the ceiling and trying to make sense of the man she had married, or rather, the man she was discovering she had married.
The Jason she first met in London was a respectful gentleman, businesslike and way too smart for her own good.
A suitable husband who understood her need for independence and seemed content with a marriage based on mutual benefit rather than passion.
She had thought herself fortunate to find someone who wouldn’t demand more than she was prepared to give.
But that man seemed like a stranger now compared to the one who had touched her with such devastating skill, who could make her body respond in ways she hadn’t known were possible.
The self-control he maintained in public only made his moments of abandon more intoxicating.
When he looked at her, really looked at her, without any pretense or restrictions, she felt as though he could see straight through to her soul and find her most primitive needs.
Yet he remained a mystery. His reluctance to be intimate, his sudden withdrawals just when she thought they were truly connecting, his refusal to explain why he was so afraid. All of it suggested depths she hadn’t even suspected.
Kate rolled onto her side, pulling the covers up as frustration coiled hot and tight in her belly.
Today had been torture in the most exquisite way. Every lingering touch, every heated glance, every moment of proximity had built tension between them until the air felt thick with it.
Yet when supper ended, he’d retreated to his separate chamber in the east wing as if nothing had happened between them. As if she hadn’t spent the entire day making it abundantly clear what she wanted. What she was offering.
This is all I can give you.
The words echoed in her mind, stoking her frustration anew.
No. It wasn’t enough. She wouldn’t accept it.
Kate sat up abruptly, her heart pounding with decision.
Because the physical desire was undeniable now.
She could no longer pretend that what had happened between them was merely curiosity or the natural intimacy of marriage.
Her body responded to him in ways that left her breathless and wanting more, ways that had nothing to do with duty or expectation and everything to do with being human.
When he touched her, she forgot every rule she had been taught about propriety, forgot everything except the sensations he could create in her body.
And yet it was more than physical. Working alongside him day after day, seeing his genuine concern for the estate and its people, watching him patiently answer Vikram’s endless questions; these glimpses revealed a man of depth and compassion.
A man she found herself genuinely liking, not just desiring.
Which made his barriers all the more frustrating.
Just when she thought they were making progress, he would retreat behind that politeness, leaving her feeling as though she were trying to embrace smoke.
His promise that that kind of intimate touching was “all he could give her” haunted her thoughts again and again.
What kind of marriage was built on such limitations?
But underneath all those tormenting thoughts, a new, even darker suspicion began to creep into her mind, shaped as much by her own insecurities as by the frustrating experiences that were already beginning to pile up between them: could it be that he was somehow…
lacking? That there was something deficient in his constitution, in the very measure of his masculinity, which kept him from offering more?
The thought unsettled her deeply, though she quickly scolded herself for it.
After all, a gentleman of his station, his refinement…
and yet, the worry refused to vanish entirely.
She had never been a woman to accept mysteries passively. Her success in business had come from her ability to analyze problems, identify obstacles, and find solutions. But Jason Moore-Sullivan presented a puzzle unlike any she had encountered. Every answer led to more questions.
Suddenly, Kate rose from her bed with a determined motion, smoothed her wrinkled nightgown, and threw a shawl over her shoulders to protect herself from the cold night.
Her bare feet made no sound on the carpet as she left her chamber. Her heart hammered in her chest, but her steps were steady.
Tonight, she decided, she would no longer wait for him to act, no longer linger in the shadow of her own doubts. Whatever awaited her in the corridors of Thornfield, whatever secrets he still kept, she would confront them once and for all.
* * *
The grand corridors of Thornfield Manor were dimly lit and completely silent in the middle of the night, the kind of stillness that settles only when something ominous stirs beneath it.
The servants had long since retired, leaving only the soft tick of the grandfather clock in the entrance hall and the distant settling sounds of an old house finding its rest. Mr. Moore moved through the shadows quietly, conducting his final inspection of the day.