“I know that after what you’ve been through, it must seem like there’s no one in your life you can trust to not use you for your magic. But I didn’t even know you had it until just now,” he pointed out. “And if you’d asked me yesterday, I would have said the same thing. I hope yourealize that you are worth so much more than just the skills you bring to the table. You’re truly the sunshine in this place, and I hope you always will be.”
She sniffled, but before she could say anything, Beastie came bounding up and skidded into them.
Roan grabbed Abigail as she toppled sideways, pulling her into his chest with one arm, flinging out his other to block the dog that had barreled into them at top speed.
“Down, Beastie!” Roan said, pushing her away from Abigail. “Don’t you dare knock Abigail over. You know better than that.”
Beastie sat, looking properly chastised, with a stick in her mouth. Roan reached over, took it, and threw it, sending the dog bounding away again.
“She didn’t mean to knock us over,” Abigail said softly, looking up at him.
Her hands were resting on his chest like they belonged there.
“I know,” Roan said gruffly. “I just didn’t want her to hurt you.”
He didn’t want anyone or anything to hurt her ever again.
Not Beastie, not her father, and certainly not him.
“Thank you,” Abigail said, pulling away from him, resting her hand on his arm for only a moment before turning back to the garden bed. “Now, let’s get these beds finished so we can go tackle the budget. I don’t know that my magic will be any good there, but who knows, maybe I can enhance that, too.”
Roan turned back to the garden bed, as she wished, but glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.
“I’ll be grateful for anything you can do,” he said, “whether or not you’re able to help.”
“I wasn’t able to help my father, but I can certainly try to help you.” Abigail smiled in his direction before looking back down at the dirt with a quiet sniffle.
If her father ever showed up, Roan would be having a word with him.
Nobody was allowed to make Abigail cry—but certainly not the man who was supposed to protect her the most.
Chapter ten
Abigail
Ateardrippedoffthe end of Abigail’s nose onto the pink dress from the attic.
She hadn’t planned on revealing so much of her past to Roan in the garden…but now that she’d started thinking about it, she couldn’t stop.
Roan had been so sweet about the whole thing, which was something she never would have expected from him. And the fact that he, of all people, had reacted that way proved that her father had made bad decisions.
If Roan was so upset on her behalf about something he couldn’t change, what would he have done if he had been there when she told her father no for the first time?
She thought back to the moment she’d refused to hold her father’s hand as he prepared to cast a spell to make their host forget that he hadn’t offered to send them away with two of his sheep. If there hadn’t been witnesses, she wasn’t sure what her father would have done.
As it was, he cast the spell, knowing it would only last for a few minutes, and they had run off with both sheep instead of the one the man had promised them in return for her father’s work.
She’d stood her ground after that, even though she wasn’t able to leave him yet. He’d always told her that she was lucky to have him, that a young woman with no family or useful skills couldn’t survive on her own. But after the marriage he had tried to force her into had failed, and he had been run off, she’d used that freedom to escape him—hopefully forever.
And now she had a place where she belonged, and Roan, who seemed to think that she belonged here, too. It was so different than the way she’d grown up, and the fact that he didn’t shun her because she had magic lifted a weight off her shoulders that she had hardly realized was there.
If someone had asked her if she felt worried that Roan would find out her secret and make her leave, she would have said yes—but no one had asked. She had grown soused to keeping it secret that she hardly thought about it anymore. And since her magic was not the kind that required fancy spells, a wand, or potions, it was fairly easy for her to assume no one would ever know.
But Roan knew now—and he hadn’t turned away. In fact, he had come closer. He’d taken her hands in his and held them so tightly she had almost believed he would never let go again.
He’d pulled her close, and if she hadn’t pulled away, he might have let her stay there in his arms.
She couldn’t let herself stay, though.
