Page 22 of Bound

He made it sound so serious. It might have been, if he had not intervened and pulled her away in time.

That was enough to conjure the memory of his growl, the insult fresh and biting.

Fledgling.

Her spine stiffened. Her jaw set. This was her home. Her land. And while she appreciated what honour dictated he offer her some sort of trade, she would not be bullied.

She lifted the hem of her split skirt high enough that he could see the supposed wounds, still shiny with salve from that morning, but healing nicely.

His jaw tightened, and he glanced at it only briefly before turning his attention back to the post in question. “As I stated,” he continued, voice low. “Harmed.”

She rolled her eyes. Settled her clothing and huffed out a breath. “All right,” she agreed at last. “You’re saying that my harm is worth fixing the whole of this fence line?” Which still left her feeling like she was taking advantage of him. Left her even more wishing he’d simply apologise for his rudeness so she wouldn’t have to think of him judging her and finding her wanting.

Not that it mattered.

Lots of people did that, and she’d learned a long time ago that it was a waste of good breath to defend herself.

He swallowed. Didn’t look at her.

It would be like that, then.

She could not decide why it disappointed her so.

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” he declared, giving the post another shove, which meant being forced to watch it wobble with disrepair. Shaming her. “Bring what I need.” A half-glance in her direction. “If that is agreeable to you?”

She shrugged because...

Well. Because her days were much the same, one after another. Chores. Meals. Petting the animals that craved her affections, respecting those that did not. Quiet evenings reading in the corner of her bedroom in a pile of blankets and cushions.

It was lovely.

And it was hers.

And this was an intrusion, and she resented that, even as she eyed the fence and knew that she was grateful for his help.

“I’ll feed you,” she gave in answer, and it wasn’t begrudgingly offered.

Mostly.

He opened his mouth, and she was almost certain he meant to refuse her. But he nodded instead, and there was something near to relief that he allowed her to give something in return.

It had been so long since she’d cooked for two. And if a lump settled in her throat, if she turned and made her way to find Merryweather and was rude, then...

Then it was only to save herself the embarrassment of him witnessing just how much it had affected her.

She’d apologise. Tomorrow.

If he came back at all.

6. Work

She always dressed to begin her chores.

Perhaps not all of them, depending on how persistent Merryweather decided to be regarding her breakfast.

But it felt suddenly different, now that someone might come. Might see her.

Not that she felt the need to impress him. But she might have reached for the pair of her overalls that were the least grubby. She’d need to tend the laundry soon. Maybe even today if she felt the need to keep an eye on the woodcutter’s work.