Page 37 of The Library of Borrowed Hearts

As an attractive young woman whose adolescence had been spent around military youths who went weeks at a time without seeing any other females, Catherine was no stranger to kisses stolen in the darkness. She’d always liked the way a man’s lips molded to hers, the way their bodies, emboldened by her eager response, often did the same.

However, nothing could have prepared her for this kiss. The moment her lips touched Jasper’s, he sucked in a sharp breath that seemed to steal all the air from her lungs. And then she didn’t remember breathing again.

That oxygen must have been hitting her brain, she knew for a fact. She didn’t pass out or swoon, didn’t asphyxiate in the heated embrace of a man who was determined to prove he was no military youth. But as his mouth moved over hers, she became every clinging miss and shy damsel of romantic nonsense. She’d been the one to give herself to him, but he was the one whotook, and she had literally no idea how much time passed before Jasper finally yanked himself away, his panicked expression discernible even in the shadows.

“Catherine,” he said, her name taking shape on a long exhalation. The sound of it contained censure and wonder, both of these things underscored by a longing she felt reverberate down to her very bones.

“Well?” she responded. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

His only response was to stare at her. Emboldened by the glimmer in his eyes—and the fact that no one had come to the door demanding they account for themselves, Catherine reached up and turned on the light. They both blinked against the sudden flood of illumination, but she was the first to recover. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out thebook and the pen she always carried in case inspiration struck. She found the section she’d left off on and read through the last messages.

We’re not doing anything. It would be a crime for you to throw yourself away like that. You can do a lot better than me.

How much better? No one ever gave me a guidebook. Can he at least be a shy, well-read logger? I’m partial to those.

No. Can we please go back to discussing the book now?

Underneath that, she finally wrote the words she’d been longing to say.

There. Do you still want to talk about the stupid book?

She handed him both the book and the pen, trying not to smile as his eyes scanned the line. A soft grunt escaped him, but he didn’t look up as he rifled through the pages until he found what he was looking for: a new passage, a fresh page.

Catherine longed to peek over his shoulder to see what he was underlining, but if there was one thing she was learning about this man, it was that he required vast amounts of patience.

“Here.” He finished and handed her the book. Sure enough, he’d underlined a section about halfway through.

“We have only one defense, and that is running away. At leastit can’t follow us,can it? When we feelourselves endangeredwe can leave, justas we came. And,” he added dryly, “justas fast as we can go.”

Any other woman might have taken that as a commentary on her technique, but not Catherine. Not when it came toherJasper. Her own emotions were running high, her blood pounding hot and heavy through her veins. She could only imagine how overwhelmed he must feel. He didn’t like to take up too much space under the best of circumstances. Under these circumstances, he’d grown practically invisible.

Fortunately, she knew exactly how to find him.

Hiding a smile, she settled herself on top of the box of plumbing parts and wrote.

I’m a nineteen-year-old librarian, not a house of evil and doom. Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic?

You’re exactly like that house.

Is this where you call me terrifying again? Because I thought you liked that about me.

And I’m exactly like Eleanor.

You’re a young woman who spent the last decade of her life caring for her invalid mother? Strange. I didn’t pick up on that.

YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN, C.

Catherine had to hide her smile behind her hand when she read that one. An increasingly irritated Jasper Holmes was a sight to behold. He looked as though he wanted to wring her neck and also like he wanted to kiss her. Maybe even at the same time.

She also took pity on him. Mostly because shedidknow what he meant.

Eleanor is anxious. Driftless. Unmoored. At least, until she goes to Hill House and lets it suck her in. The house scares her, but she likes it. She likes the idea of giving herself over to it and letting it possess her. Even if it destroys her in the end, it’s a destruction she wants. Maybe even needs.

As soon as he read the words, he relaxed. He also handed her back the book without writing anything in it.

“Youdoknow,” he said, sounding so relieved that she tucked the book in her pocket. She also took his hand again, this time letting herself glide her smooth palm over his rough one, enjoying the way his skin caught against hers. It was as if his very being was reaching out to her using any means at its disposal.

“Of course I know, Jasper. Why do you think I like this book so much?” She paused and lowered her voice before adding, “And why I like you?”