18. The Face of Truth #3
He stepped into the study, a single candle in hand.
In his other, the day’s account book. He set both on the desk, the candle first, its light blooming gently across the room, then the ledger, which he opened to review all the neat columns of figures and observations.
Numbers made sense. Numbers could be controlled, predicted, managed.
Unlike the tempest of emotions that had been building inside him since leaving London.
Then—a soft noise. The distant creak of a door opening.
He stilled, his senses sharpening.
The candle in the study cast a thin sliver of light beneath the door, the only lit room in a sleeping house. Footsteps sounded in the hallway, slow and quiet, drawing nearer. When the doorknob turned and the door opened, no servant appeared in the doorway.
Kate stood there, framed by shadows.
She wore a simple shawl over her nightgown. Her dark hair hung loose around her shoulders again, freed from the severe arrangements she favored during daylight hours. The transformation never failed to steal his breath, this fleeting glimpse of the woman who already resided deep in his heart.
“You’re still awake?” she asked quietly.
“Kate.” Her name left his lips more like a prayer than a mere greeting. “I thought you’d retired for the evening.”
“I couldn’t sleep.” She stepped in entirely with measured steps. “I see you’re still attending to business, even at this hour.
Her eyes took in his formal posture, the way he clutched the ledger, as if it might ward off something far more dangerous than numbers.
“The eastern wing needs considerable repair. I wanted to complete my assessment before—”
“Before you could retire to your separate chamber?” she said it with intent, and he caught her meaning instantly.
“Kate—”
“… far away from mine. Just as you’ve arranged since our wedding night.” Her voice was steady, but he also caught the hurt beneath the surface.
“I thought the arrangement suited us both,” he shot back.
“It does suit you then?” She moved closer. “Is this how you envisioned our marriage, Jason? This tortuous distance maintained at all times?”
The name had felt like both caress and accusation. He had grown so accustomed to hearing it, to responding to it, that sometimes he almost forgot it wasn’t truly his. Almost.
“It was you who suggested—”
“I know what I suggested.” Her interruption was gentle but firm. “But circumstances change. People change.”
She was close enough now that he could see the gentle rise and fall of her chest with each breath, could smell the faint lavender scent that always drew him forward to inhale it.
The intimacy of the moment, her state of undress, the late hour, the constant butterflies in his belly every time he saw her; sent panic racing through his veins even as other, more dangerous emotions, stirred in response.
“I’ve been patient, Jason.” Her voice dropped low. “I’ve respected your boundaries without question. But after last night…”
“Last night was a mistake.”
“Was it?”
Her hand reached out to touch his arm, and even that slight contact sent electricity through his frame. He held his breath for a moment.
“Or was it simply the first honest moment between us?” she added.
He stepped away, rounding her and moving toward the tall windows that looked out over the moonlit grounds.
“You don’t understand,” he said, letting the air leaves his lungs slowly.
“Then help me understand.”
Her voice was closer than expected—she had followed him, coming to stand directly behind him.
He could feel her proximity, could sense her presence like an embrace even when she did not touch him.
“What are you so afraid of? I will continue asking until you give me a proper answer.”
The statement made him close his eyes, and when he opened them again, he could see her face in the reflection of the window glass, so open and vulnerable, as if searching for answers he couldn’t give without destroying everything they had built together.
“You flinch when I touch you,” she continued, her voice gaining strength. “You turn away when I seek your eyes. Yet I’ve felt your desire, Jason. I know you feel something for me.”
The observation was indeed a true one. He did desire her, had from almost the moment they’d first met. But that desire was tangled up with deception, a deception that threatened to destroy everything.
“What I feel doesn’t matter,” he simply said.
“It matters to me.”
Her hand came to rest on his shoulder again.
Jason remained perfectly still, every muscle taut with the effort of not responding, not turning into her touch the way every fiber of his being demanded.
“Look at me.”
Jason found himself obeying despite his better judgment. Slowly, he turned from the window to face her.
She was so close; he could even see the moonlight reflecting in her dark eyes.
“Whatever secret you’re carrying,” she said, reaching up to cup his cheek with her palm, “it cannot be worse than this emptiness between us.”
The touch was almost his undoing. Her fingers were soft, warm, infinitely gentle as they traced the line of his jaw.
For a moment, he allowed himself to lean into the caress, to close his eyes again and pretend that truth was simple, that love could conquer the deception he had woven around them both.
“Some secrets change everything, Kate.” The words were barely audible, a warning he hoped she would heed.
Her thumb brushed across his lower lip, and his eyes flew open to meet hers. What he saw there took his breath away. Not fear, but perhaps… love? Trust?
“Then let them change everything. I’m not afraid as long as I am with you.”
Before he could protest, before he could retreat behind his walls again, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. The kiss, this time, was not rushed, not intrusive, not demanding, just a tentative request, a question to be answered.
For one suspended moment, he held himself rigid, fighting the urge to respond.
Then something inside him broke.
His hand came up to cup her face, fingers threading through her hair as he kissed her fully with all of his suppressed longing.
She melted against him, arms encircling his neck in an instant, pulling their bodies together with an urgency that matched his own.
The kiss deepened, became something desperate and hungry.
Kate’s fingers worked at the buttons of his waistcoat, her breathing quickening as she pressed closer.
Every rational thought in Jason’s head screamed warnings, but they were drowned out by the rushing of blood in his ears, by the warmth of her body against his, by the sweet torture of, finally, allowing himself to want without reservation.
Her hands had freed several buttons when reality crashed back with the force of cold water. Jason caught her wrists, stilling her movements even as his body protested the interruption.
“Kate, please…”
“No more excuses.” Her breath came short, but her resolve was iron. “No more distance. I want this. I want you.”
She tried to free her hands to continue her gentle assault on his appearance, but he held her wrists more firmly.
“You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“I know exactly what I’m asking.” Her eyes blazed with certainty. “I’m asking for my husband. I’m asking for you.”
The words shattered something inside him.
All his control, all his deception, crumbled in the face of her honesty.
His expression revealed the vulnerability he had fought so hard to hide, the terrible weight of the secret he carried, the fear of losing her, the desperate love that had grown despite every attempt to contain it.
“I’m not…” His voice broke, his eyes closed, a single tear run down his cheek. “I’m not who you think I am.”
Kate’s struggles ceased at once after seeing the pain in his face.
“Then who are you? Show me.”
The silence that followed her trembling plea felt endless, as though time itself had paused and were waiting to see what come out of this moment.
Everything teetered on a knife’s edge—their marriage, their partnership, the fragile trust painstakingly built between them.
Jason opened his eyes, locking onto hers, searching desperately for the glimmer of hope that might convince him this moment could finally bring him peace… or perhaps something even more.
And in that gaze, he saw such warmth, such acceptance, such love that for a single, reckless heartbeat, he believed it could be enough.
“I’m not Jason Moore.”
The words fell upon Kate’s ears as stones dropped into a still pond, sending ripples through every certainty she had clung to up to this moment. She felt the pulse of the room shift, the very air thickening as though it too held its breath.
Her forehead creased with a frown. Confusion replaced the passion that had ignited her features only moments before, and ultimately, she felt the blood drain from her face, the warmth of a second ago dissolving into an awareness threatening to consume her whole.
“What do you mean?”
Another pause stretched taut, heavy with the weight of a truth she could not yet grasp. Jason drew a shaky breath, as though summoning the courage to fracture everything she thought she knew.
“My name is Gina Moore.”
The syllables hit Kate with the subtle force of a gale, reverberating through her ears like a Machiavellian echo mocking her.
She froze completely, as if her body had forgotten how to move, her senses betraying her in the face of such confusion.
Her pulse thundered in her ears, each beat pounding hard against the walls of her reason.
“What did you just say?”
The question escaped her lips, fragile as a ghost, faint as the light of a dying candle.