Page 28 of Bound

She took a deep breath.

Released it slowly.

Gratitude. There was that too. For something to have been fixed around here that was not done by her own hands. That for just a moment, it did not all fall on her to keep things going.

She would not grow used to it. But maybe she could accept just this one thing. And feed him for his trouble.

She poured a cup of milk. Picked up the plate with his meal and even a napkin to show that she was a little bit civilised even if she wasn’t going to invite him in to eat with her.

“Is now a reasonable time to stop?”

She held up her offerings so he could see that she was not interrupting him for nothing, and he wiped his hands on a cloth before nodding his head. It was warm out. He should sit in the shade.

Sit inside. Like a guest.

She wanted to growl at her mother’s lessons, at all that she had not been taught along the way. He went to the pump. Washed his hands and doused his head and even brought his wings down to flutter through the stream.

And she watched. Which was personal and intrusive and wholly inappropriate.

The house was warm as well. There was the heat from the kitchen fire, the lack of breeze to push through the open windows.

It would hardly offer him a reprieve at all except a moment out of the hot suns.

She groaned. Closed her eyes.

Placed his meal at the table. The napkin too.

At the seat farthest from hers.

Perhaps her mother would insist even that was rude, but it was the best she could manage. She had not tidied the room particularly. The counters needed to be wiped, and there were bundles of herbs in various states of drying dangling from every conceivable place she could stash a hook. He might find the smell objectionable. Might even ask to retreat outside. Which would be fine. She wouldn’t mind a bit. Would even be relieved for it.

He stood in the open doorway, peering inside as if looking for... something.

Not her, as she was already seated at her place, simply so she would not be able to change her mind again. He filled more of the doorway than she liked. He was tall, his shoulders broad, and he... lingered in ways that her father did not. But then, he was certain of his welcome. Braum was not.

She swallowed thickly, bringing her own cup of milk closer to her. “You can sit. Or if you’d rather take it outside, I won’t be cross.” She tried to infuse a hint of levity into her tone so he’d know she was speaking truly, but he simply gave her that grim stare of his as he considered his options.

It made her nervous.

Made her feel very much alone here.

He ducked his head.

Moved to the chair at the end of the table and sat.

“If you don’t like anything...” she began, but he halted her with a shake of his head.

“This is more than adequate, thank you.”

Her heart wouldn’t calm. It dulled her appetite and made it an arduous task to bring the food to her mouth. To chew calmly. Swallow.

He seemed not to share her troubles as she stole glances in his direction. He ate with vigour, holding the contents of his meal together with better care than she was able. It was just that he had large hands. That was all. And she’d been too intent on finding things to do inside the house that she’d sliced too many vegetables. Which made the entire meal cumbersome and unwieldy, unless one happened to be blessed with overly large hands.

She took a sip of milk and caught him looking at her just briefly. He still had half left, and she realised she had only to wait him out before he’d be gone again and she could eat in peace.

Her throat ached.

“I can go. If you are as uncomfortable as you appear.”