What a luxury! She dove into the crate and pulled them both to her chest, taking a deep breath. “And somehow they don’t smell terrible,” she announced, as if it was themost important fact in the world. She took another breath and their smell improved yet again.
Roan shook his head as if annoyed by her antics as usual, but the motion didn’t carry the exasperation it usually did.
“I’ll take my blankets back,” he said. “You can have these ones. They’re much too fine for an oaf like me.”
What?
Abigail turned to him. “What do you mean, an oaf like me?” she demanded. “You are not an oaf. On the contrary, you are, and have always been, a gentleman. And I’ll thank you to not disparage the man who has treated me with such kindness.”
Perhaps he was rough around the edges, and he didn’t have a way with words, but he had a heart underneath that beat true, and that was something she didn’t take for granted.
Surprise lined Roan’s face as he stared at her. Then he nodded.
“I’ll take your warning to heart,” he said. “Thank you for your kindness.”
He turned and walked away, and Abigail stared after him. It was her turn to be surprised. Where had that come from? And why had he acquiesced so easily? That was unlike him.
But she didn’t have time to think about it.
She had food to make for the two of them, and a nest to make for herself.
Tonight was going to be a much better night.
Chapter five
Roan
BeastiewhinedasRoanstood and pulled his shirt over his head in one easy motion, throwing the dirty one to the floor. She grabbed the shirt in her teeth, carrying it over to her corner.
“Don’t rip it,” he warned her as he reached for the extra shirt he kept in his drawer.
It was a good thing they’d found his grandmother’s clothes in the attic. It meant that Abigail would have something to wear while they washed their dirty clothes. He’d help her do that in the morning.
Before he could put his clean shirt back on, there was a slight knock at the door, which opened easily. The latch hadn’t clicked shut.
As it opened, Abigail stumbled in to see him standing shirtless at his desk.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, hiding her face in the crook of her elbow despite the blanket she carried. “I’m so sorry,” she said, turning around. “I’ll come back later.”
“There’s no need,” Roan said quickly, pulling his shirt on and crossing the room before she could leave. “Thank you for bringing the blanket.”
“Of course,” she said, not quite willing to meet his gaze, her cheeks a stunning shade of pink.
Had she always been so beautiful when she blushed?
Roan shook himself mentally before walking away from her and setting the blanket on his desk.
“And thank you for dinner,” he added.
She looked up at him in surprise. Did he forget to thank her for food that often? Was it really that rare for him to do so? If it was, he ought to feel ashamed, because Abigail was the best help he’d had in years, and making sure that she felt appreciated should be one of his main tasks.
“And I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier,” he said. He’d already apologized once, but even if he couldn’t find it in him to explain why just yet, she should know that he was sorry.
“I forgive you,” Abigail said, her gaze quickly falling again. Though the pink was fading, the flush still remained, and something in him felt a sense of satisfaction at the thought.
He was almost enjoying this.
The feeling was unsettling. He had been alone for so many years that the idea of enjoying spending time with anyone—not to mention a woman—seemed far-fetched.
