Chapter 5 Roan
Chapter five
Roan
Beastie whined as Roan stood 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.
But in this moment, he was almost content, if he dared to say it.
“I’ll, uh, I’ll just go,” Abigail said, gesturing toward the door as she began to inch backwards.
He cleared his throat. “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable with my state of undress.”
“Oh, no,” Abigail said, pausing, though she still wouldn’t look at him. “I used to see my father all the time.”
Roan glanced at her skeptically. “I don’t imagine seeing your father without his shirt on made you unable to look him in the eyes,” he said dryly.
Abigail turned pinker, but she looked up at him, and there was merriment in her eyes. “I suppose you’re right,” she said.
“You don’t need to be uncomfortable,” Roan assured her. “Unless I’ve done something?”
“No, I just—” She looked at him. She looked down his body, and her words came out a bit strangled. “You don’t look anything like my father did.”
Roan grinned and couldn’t help flexing his muscles for a moment under his shirt. She must have seen the movement, because she turned away to hide her face with a light giggle.
“I’ll stop,” he said, resisting the urge to chuckle.
“You’d better,” she said as she hurried out the door without saying anything else.
Roan looked down at Beastie, who seemed entirely unamused by everything that had just happened, while he couldn’t stop grinning.
“Well, Beastie,” he said, “that was fun.”
And he hadn’t had fun in longer than he could remember.
Soft music filled the air as Roan opened his eyes. He blinked in surprise as he looked around the room. His tavern had never looked cozier. Candles were lit on most surfaces, there was the smell of fresh bread and warm soup in the air, and Lyle stood in the corner playing his fiddle.
All the men currently asleep in his storage room were scattered throughout the room, as if nothing had ever happened. Roan shook his head, blinking at the sight of them, lit in a rosy glow that filled the whole tavern.
Was this a dream, or was everyone being asleep the dream?
“I don’t know what’s happening,” he muttered, rubbing his hand over his face. Beastie bounded toward him with that dratted ball in her mouth. Hadn’t he seen her destroy it twice already?
“It’s good to see everyone awake, isn’t it?” a soft voice said behind him. Roan turned to see Abigail, and his jaw dropped. She was wearing his grandmother’s pink gown, which fit her perfectly.
So this was a dream, then.
Abigail was good, but she was not able to tailor a dress for a woman of his grandmother’s size to fit as if it was made for her in only a few hours.
Not when she’d also been cleaning curtains and preparing food for both of them, while he hid in his office and pretended that he wasn’t looking at her differently than he ever had.
“You look beautiful,” he said. He wasn’t quite sure where the words came from, but they were true, and he wouldn’t take them back. She did look beautiful.
“And you look handsome,” she said, smiling at him.
Roan looked down to see himself wearing one of his grandfather’s old coats, one that he remembered Grandmother turning into cleaning rags after it became too ratty to be worn anymore.
Definitely a dream.
“I haven’t seen this in years,” he murmured, running his hands over the buttons. Like her dress, it fit him perfectly, which was a surprise given his grandfather’s stout nature.
“It seems we’re meant to enjoy ourselves tonight,” Abigail said, looking around the room with a smile. “Everyone looks happy.”
“Well, I can only hope that their bodies aren’t starving to death while you and I get no closer to figuring out what to do to break this curse,” Roan muttered.
Abigail smiled winningly. “I know,” she said, “but for a moment, could we forget it and just enjoy ourselves? I’ve never worn a gown this fine, and it seems a pity to waste this moment in fear and doubt, when that fear and doubt will be there for us in the morning, just as surely as it is here tonight. ”
Roan looked down at her and nodded, doing his best to hide how afraid he was. “Of course, my lady,” he said, offering a hand.
She looked at him in surprise.
“We do seem to be dressed up,” he pointed out, “and there is music.”
“Are you asking me to dance?” Abigail said, her eyes wide.
“On the contrary, I—well, yes, I suppose I am,” Roan said, though he was just as surprised as she was. Where had this notion come from? Dream Roan was apparently bolder than he gave himself credit for.
“I would love to,” Abigail said. Her eyes shone brightly as she accepted his hand and he swept her into a dance. Perhaps dream Roan was on to something, though, because Roan couldn’t remember a time when he had felt more free as he pulled Abigail into his arms and into a dance.
“You can dance?” she asked in surprise as his arm wrapped around her waist and he started twirling her around in a dance.
“I can,” he said. “My mother always thought that we were better off than we were and seemed to think that the local nobility would be inviting us to their events. So she had Nathaniel and I learn how to dance.”
“Did you ever go?” Abigail asked.
“Not once,” Roan said dryly as he twirled her out and then back in. Her eyes lit up every time he did so, and he found himself captivated by it.
When had she become so beautiful? This was Abigail, for heaven’s sake.
She was his employee, and he owed it to her to remain professional.
But as the occupants of the tavern cheered them on while they twirled around the room, Roan couldn’t quite find it in himself to remain professional when all he could see was her.
She even smelled good, he noticed. He’d never quite gotten close enough before to realize she smelled like lavender and honey, and he fought the urge to lean in and take a deep breath of her hair.
What did she wash it with? They’d been trapped here long enough that any scent she’d worn should have faded away.
“We’ll figure it out,” she promised him, meeting his eyes with a determined look. “I know you’re worried. I am, too, but I know that you and I will figure it out. We’re too stubborn not to.”
“I worry for them,” he said, looking around the room at all the people he spent most of his time with.
Abigail closed her eyes and reached up to press her finger to his lips as she whispered, “Shush. That’s a problem for the morning.”
Her finger was warm against his lips.
Her eyes opened wide and she immediately pulled her hand back, trying to pull away from him.
He didn’t let her.
“I’m sorry,” she began to say, but Roan shook his head.
“Don’t be.” His voice was rough, and he couldn’t get anything else out.
But she couldn’t regret that. He wouldn’t let her.
She turned pink and nodded, but she didn’t say anything else.
The song finished then, and they pulled away from each other to applause from all the men in the tavern.
“Go back to your drinks, you fools,” Roan said, as Abigail blushed and looked away shyly. He didn’t need her feeling self-conscious, not when that dance had been the most wonderful moment he’d had in years.
Now he just had to convince her to do it again.