On his way to collapsing in bed, his eye caught on the table where he had eaten. Stacked on top of it were some books, a sketchpad with plenty of paper, charcoal pencils, and some pastels. Stepping closer, he read the spines of the books. From the titles, it was evident that Jason had hand selected these for him. Something stirred in his chest. With a tentative hand, he reached out to touch the drawing supplies. The feel of the paper and pastels was as foreign to him as the thought of drawing. That was a part of his past he’d thought would never return.
The gesture touched him, but it also aggravated him. Did Jason really think he could just pick up where he had left off? Was he so naïve to think that Kale would just slip into the life of drawing and carefree reading that he had given up three years ago? It didn’t take long for the black knot in his gut to consume any trace of feeling in his heart. Kale had known that he was hurting Jason earlier, but he didn’t care. Fuck him. Kale had been hurting for three years.
While he wouldn’t even consider drawing, he did concede that reading might be a good idea. He needed to get back in practice, seeing as he was going to have a lot of time on his hands, and reading in his room was a great way to avoid Jason. He grabbed the book at the top of the stack and went to bed. The sight of Jason’s gifts had stirred up enough feelings that Kale was sufficiently awake to begin working to regain the fluency he had lost.
Chapter Seventeen
Jason turned the page of his newspaper. The rustling of newsprint was the only sound besides the tick-tock of the office clock. As he focused on the headlines, he realized that he hadn’t finished reading the last story. Turning back, he scanned the page, but couldn’t find anything familiar. He resolutely shut the paper and discarded it.
This wasn’t working. Jason went to the window overlooking the garden. It was a depressing sight. Eventually, the sound of his finger tapping on the glass began to annoy him enough that he moved. He stayed locked away in his office to avoid seeing Kale, but all he could think about was Kale. Where was Kale now? What was he doing? These were pointless questions, but Jason couldn’t seem to focus on anything important.
At his desk, he saw his plate from tea time. There were crumbs from a blueberry scone. Thinking back to how delicious it had tasted, Jason checked in with his stomach. Yes, he was hungry. Well, maybe not hungry, but some food wouldn’t hurt.
The entire way down to the kitchen, he tried to convince himself that he really was hungry for more than just a glimpse of Kale. The sight that greeted him reminded him why he was staying in his office. Sitting at the table was Kale, hunched over a plate of food as if guarding it. It reminded him of beggars he had seen eating old bread in the street.
“Is there something I can get you, Mr. Wadsworth?”
Sophie’s voice pierced his musings, but did nothing to Kale. He stayed frozen. “Yes, I was wondering if you could bring me something to eat in my office.” His throat was unusually dry.
“Yes, sir, of course.”
Jason couldn’t take his eyes off Kale. The tense line of the slave’s shoulders didn’t so much as twitch under his gaze. The man was as still as stone.
Sophie appeared in his line of sight. “Is there anything else, sir?”
Jason’s eyes focused on her. “Uh, no. Thanks, Sophie.”
“No problem, sir. I’ll be right up with some food.” She held her arm out to the door, ushering him away.
Ten minutes later, Sophie stood before his desk with a tray.
“The way Kale was eating earlier, is that normal?”
Jason stood, and Sophie arranged his meal on the desk. “For him it is. He’s been eating like that since he got here.”
“But why? Do you think he’ll ever eat normally?”
“Of course he will, once his body realizes that it’s not going to go hungry here. Once he trusts us, he’ll relax some more.”
“You don’t think he trusts us? Do you think he’s scared? Has Martin mistreated him?” Jason’s volume increased with the speed of his speech.
“No, sir. Martin’s been fine. I think Kale’s mind trusts us, sir, but his body isn’t going to give up the instincts that have helped him survive.”
Jason sank into his chair. “Oh. I suppose that makes sense.”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Wadsworth. Kale is in good hands.”
“He didn’t even look at me. Is he that way around you?”
“No, sir. He’s been surprisingly open with me.”
“Well, I won’t encroach on his space anymore. You may pass along to him that I won’t be going to the kitchen again.”
“I’m sure he’ll appreciate that, sir. He likes having a space where he knows he can’t get into trouble. It’s common enough in slaves.”
Jason didn’t think anything could hurt more than knowing that Kale feared him. Kale, who Jason loved more than he had ever loved anyone, feared him. “Thank you, Sophie. I appreciate the help you’ve been with him.”
“It’s my pleasure, sir. He’s quite charming when he forgets to be scared.”
Jason smirked. “Yes, he is.” Jason knew better than anyone just how charming, witty, and insightful Kale could be. “You may go now.”
* * *
A few days later, Jason sat reading a report from one of his men on the southern coast. He had paid to be kept in the know about the goings on with the shipyard there. Apparently, Lord Conrad had taken the next big step. He hadn’t yet begun the process of purchasing the property, but he had purchased the option to buy it. Jason didn’t know why the man didn’t just go ahead and do it. They both knew he would.
This was potentially the biggest deal Jason would ever make. He wasn’t going to lose out on it by not being informed. Jason decided to put some time into studying the process of shipbuilding and went down to the library to retrieve a book that would suffice. When he got downstairs, he was brought up short by the sound of laughter in the library.
“—and he just kept jumping up and down, squealing, ‘Get it off! Get it off!’” That voice. It wasn’t dry or hoarse. It wasn’t weighed down by vitriol. It was Kale’s voice, sweet and smooth, solid and assured. How he had missed that voice. Jason could close his eyes and remember lazy days spent listening to that voice. He positioned himself so he could see into the library without being obvious.
“And did this Charlie ever pay you back?” Sophie’s light voice was trying to overcome her laughter. The two of them were dusting.
“No. To tell you the truth, he kind of took the fun out of it. He was always much too nice to play pranks, but he was such an easy target that it wasn’t long before Simon or Jacob—”
“Or you.”
Kale grinned at her. “Yes, or me, decided to have another go at him.”
Kale appeared more relaxed than Jason had seen him. The tension was gone from his shoulders. His face lit up, and his mouth was quick to quirk into a smile. Jason felt like an intruder, spying on this carefree moment. Gods knew Kale deserved the unmolested time to regain some happiness. Jason moved to leave, but at the exact moment that his foot creaked on a floorboard, Kale and Sophie’s conversation entered a lull. The sound reverberated in the silence, and they both looked at him.
The reaction was instantaneous. Kale appeared stricken and immediately bowed his head and backed away, making himself as small as possible. Tension filled every line of his body where mirth had been only a moment before.
“Sorry to disturb you. I just came to get a book.” Jason stepped forward and grabbed the book from its shelf.
“Oh, it’s no bother, sir. We were just in here getting caught up on some dusting.” Sophie was as jovial as ever. It seemed she hoped Kale would follow her lead, but he didn’t move a muscle. Jason would have seen: he kept his eyes riveted on him.
“I appreciate that, Sophie. It looks like you and Kale are doing a great job. I barely recognize the place.” Jason desperately wanted to restore the comfortable atmosphere he had intruded on.
“Thank you, sir.”
Jason was mesmerized by the change in Kale. Was he really that scared of him? Jason stared at him, hoping for any sign that the Kale he knew was still in there. When he didn’t find any, he felt awkward. “Right, well, I’ll leave you to it.” Jason left, ignoring the urge to look behind him to see if Kale had moved. At the end of the hallway, he stopped and listened. The voices had resumed, albeit more subdued.
Once in his room, Jason tossed the book on his bed and strode to the cabinet that held his whiskey. Wherever he went he brought sadness, even to the one man whose happiness was Jason’s top priority. Lying on his bed, he didn’t even spare a glance for the book as he took his first drink directly from the bottle. At least he knew how to numb the guilt.
Chapter Eighteen
“Is there anything else I can get you, sir?” Sophie was running errands, so Martin was helping out by delivering Jason a sandwich made from leftover roast beef for lunch.
“No, that’s all.” Of course it was. In the weeks since Kale’s arrival, Jason had become more distant than ever.
Kale, on the other hand, was becoming less reserved. He no longer acted afraid of Martin, but Sophie was always with them. They hadn’t been alone since that first day. Without her presence, Martin wondered how Kale would react to him.
When Martin entered the kitchen with the empty tray, Kale stood up from the table.
“I’m sorry, sir. I’ll just get out of your way.”
“Nonsense. Sit back down. I wouldn’t mind company for lunch.” Since Jason insisted on Kale not being treated like a slave, Martin tried not to think of him as one. It made it much easier to converse with him. Right now, Kale was the best source for the answers Martin wanted. Jason had revealed nothing further about his new slave, and Martin was eaten up with curiosity about their shared past. The only way he could help Jason was by learning what was bothering him.
Martin fixed a sandwich and joined Kale at the table. The slave still wasn’t comfortable around him. His right leg bounced, and his right hand was fidgeting on top of it. “You’re not scared of me, are you?”
That got the fidgeting to stop. “No, sir.”
“Good. I’m not the violent type. I won’t hurt you. Besides, if I so much as said something cross to you, Mr. Wadsworth would skin me alive. He’s made that perfectly clear.”
There was a hint of a smile on Kale’s lips. “He always did have a flare for dramatics.”
“Hmmm. I wouldn’t say that. It’s more like he’s really intense.”
“I guess that’s another way to put it.”
“Is he the same as he was when you knew him?” Martin took a bite of his sandwich, trying not to appear too interested in Kale’s answer.
“Yes and no. In some ways he’s so much the same that I could swear no time has passed at all. It’s scary, quite frankly.”
“How long has it been since he owned you?” Martin knew Kale had opened up somewhat to Sophie, but she was keeping her lips sealed. She insisted he hadn’t told her anything at all about Jason, but Martin knew if Kale had told her something in confidence, she wouldn’t divulge it.
“I don’t think we should be talking about this.”
“Well, I do.” Martin felt his temper rising, and it was tempting to treat Kale like any other slave and demand the information from him. “I’m responsible for taking care of him, and I can’t do it if I don’t know what he needs.”
“Sophie says you do a fine job.”
“Sophie likes to pretend it’s not as bad as it is. She’s not the one who’s had to deal with his drinking. With you to distract her, I doubt she’s even noticed that he goes to bed drunk every night.”
“He never did hold his liquor well.”
“That man can down more alcohol in a night than I do in a year and go on the next morning like nothing is wrong.”
Kale’s eyebrows rose. “Really?”
“He didn’t drink like that when you knew him?”
“No. He was a lightweight.”
Martin snorted. “You know, I used to think that his wife was the reason he went to that wretched bar and drank. The anniversary of his proposal, their wedding anniversary, she’s the common thread. But she’s not. You are.”
“The master I knew never stepped foot in a bar.”
“Well, now he spends enough at Flannigan’s to keep the place afloat.”
“Oh.” A flicker of recognition passed Kale’s face.
“I’ve gathered you were sold around the time he got married. I tried to get Sophie to tell me more, but she refused. She didn’t even tell me that tidbit, she just didn’t deny it.”
“Maybe you should ask the master if you’re wanting to know more. It’s not my business.”
Martin couldn’t help the bit of nastiness that crept into his voice. “Oh, but it is your business. You see, he only used to get into these depressive bouts on special occasions. They may last for weeks, even months sometimes, but they were always predictable. Now he’s withdrawing even more when it’s time for him to be returning to normal.”
“I haven’t heard him leave to go anywhere, much less out drinking.”
“He doesn’t always go to Flannigan’s. Sometimes he drinks right here at home, locked away in that study of his.”
“Sophie said no one uses the study.”
“That’s why. He keeps it locked, only goes in there when he wants to get so drunk that he knows he won’t be able to make it home from the bar. What drives a man to drink that much?” Martin watched Kale closely, looking for any hint that might help.
“Like I told you, he didn’t drink before. I have no idea why he does now. Ask him.”
Martin let his exasperation drive his next words. “You don’t think I’ve tried? You don’t think I’ve spent the last two and a half years praying to the saints that he would tell me? All I get are fragments when he’s too drunk to know what he’s saying. The only sober thing he’s ever said on the matter was that he did terrible things to you that he needs to atone for.”
Kale’s leg began to shake again, and his hand resumed its nervous tic. “He did do terrible things, just not the ones he thinks he did.” It came out barely louder than a murmur. Kale’s eyes were vacant, like he was looking past Martin.
“Well, whatever happened, he’s been drinking to forget. Perhaps if I knew what it was, I could help him through it without him resorting to the bottle.”
Kale lowered his head and looked around, as if looking for an escape. “I’m sorry. I can’t help you.” The frenzied fidgeting of his right hand against his pants crescendoed until the nervous energy erupted, and Kale shot to his feet and hurried away.
Martin sighed and leaned back in his chair. It was evident Kale was at the center of all this. Martin hated ceding control, but he was beginning to believe that this time it was going to have to be Kale who intervened and put a stop to Jason’s self-destructive behavior. He only hoped it wouldn’t have to get much worse before it got better.
Chapter Nineteen
Martin was right. When Kale paid attention to more than just himself, he noticed that Jason did retreat to the study quite often. Whenever Kale thought about Jason and what Martin had said about him atoning, he felt a thawing in his chest. Part of him wanted so badly to give in to it. How easy would it be to surrender to that warmth? Why couldn’t he put the past behind him and love Jason the way he used to, the way his frozen heart still did?
Kale was on his way to the library to fetch a book he had spied while helping Sophie clean. To keep the boredom at bay, he had taken to reading voraciously. The escape was a welcome distraction. During the day, he spent much of his time talking with Sophie and helping her, but she continuously insisted that he rest. Rest was the last thing he needed. When he tried to rest, his mind wandered to places he didn’t want it to go. Boredom was the enemy. Most days, he longed for a hard, long day’s work so he could collapse into bed at the end of it, too tired to entertain any thoughts.
On his way back to his room
, book in hand, a crash brought him up short. Kale cocked his head to the right, in the direction of the sound. A garbled string of curses followed. It was coming from the study.
Kale went to the door, holding his breath as he listened. The venomous voice was barely recognizable as Jason’s. It sounded like he was fighting with someone. A quick test of the doorknob revealed that Jason hadn’t locked it. Curiosity warred with Kale’s common sense. He wasn’t welcome here; this was none of his business. But it was. He knew that one way or another, this had to do with him. His hand hovered over the doorknob. Did he dare take this step? Did he want to know? His hand tensed into a fist as he thought it through. If he walked away, he could continue on in the same pattern of existence. It wasn’t perfect, not compared to the idyllic days he had spent with Jason years ago, but it also wasn’t bad. If he opened this door though, he knew he would be committed.
In the end, curiosity won. A part of him still couldn’t believe Martin’s description of Jason, even though the evidence supported it. He had to see for himself. Kale grasped the doorknob and carefully opened the door.
Jason’s voice stopped. The clatter that rang out was Kale’s own book crashing to the floor. The contents of his stomach swirled, threatening to come up.
“What are you doing in here? It’s not enough that I give you free rein in the house? You have to intrude on this room where I come to escape you?” Jason slurred.
The irony of Jason’s words was like a blow. All around him, on every possible surface of wall and ceiling, were the pictures Kale had drawn when he lived with Jason. The room was literally covered in them. Across the floor were sketches that had fluttered out of their piles at the force of Kale’s entry.
“You happy now? You can tell Martin and Sophie how disturbed I am.” Jason lounged askew on an armchair in the center of the room, swinging a nearly empty bottle of whiskey. Next to him was an upturned table—probably the source of the crash—and empty bottles littered the floor.
[Measure of Devotion 02.0] Measure of Strength Page 8
