Chapter 8 Abigail
Chapter eight
Abigail
Abigail watched as Roan shut down before her eyes. The smile on his face disappeared, and his mouth closed as he looked down at Beastie.
What had changed his mind? She’d thought for a moment that she would see the Roan she knew was hiding in there somewhere, but he was gone again.
She bit back her sigh of frustration. She had a couple more days to get him to come out of his shell before they caught back up to time, if she was right…and oh, how she hoped she was right.
She didn’t want to think about the alternative.
“Enjoy your dinner,” she said as she got up from her seat and left his office. Beastie came padding after her, and Abigail let her out, following her into the dusk. She had been working hard today, and a moment to enjoy what was left of the sunset felt like a necessary reward.
She had organized the pantry today, so she wasn’t lying when she’d told Roan there were a few things they could stop purchasing.
From what she’d seen of the records, the tavern was not doing well financially, which explained some of why Roan was so taciturn and unforgiving.
If all he did was worry about the state of the tavern, it wouldn’t leave him much time for anything else.
But she couldn’t help wondering if he’d lost so much joy for another reason. Why did he shut down any time he tried to have a moment of fun with her? What was his reason for letting no one but Beastie close to him?
She made her way back into the kitchen, where she puttered around cleaning until Beastie asked to be let in.
Her mind was still buzzing with what ifs and she didn’t want to sleep, but Beastie would wake her early in the morning, so perhaps it was for the best if she did.
She was curled up in her nest, having finally settled enough to become drowsy, when the door creaked quietly, and soft footsteps followed.
She opened her eyes just enough to see Roan creeping in with a small candle and his dirty plate from dinner.
She smiled to herself at the picture he made before noticing the candlelight flickering off his bare chest.
Looking away would be the proper thing to do.
But perhaps she wasn’t always proper.
With no one to witness her impropriety, she allowed herself to take a moment and look at how finely shaped he was while he poured himself some water.
She’d met many men while wandering with her father and in the course of her time at the tavern—some burly, some brawny, some slender, some… not slender.
Roan looked like the kind who worked hard and enjoyed it but didn’t spend all his time concerned with the way he looked.
That was her favorite kind.
She closed her eyes and heat flooded her face. She shouldn’t be looking at Roan like that. He was her employer and looking at him like that was not something she should be doing…even if he looked fantastic.
And having thoughts like that were certainly not proper.
She squeezed her eyes shut tighter as he walked past, hoping he wouldn’t see that she had looked at him.
“Good night,” he whispered quietly as he left the room.
She didn’t answer.
The tavern was filled with joy when she opened her eyes, that rose gold light giving everything an extra glow. The fiddle played again, the drinks poured freely, and no one was in a bad mood. Even the old men sitting at the back table were being talkative.
Conrad sat in his usual place at the end of the bar, and he smiled as she refilled his tankard.
“Good evening,” he said. “Did you have a good day?”
“I did,” Abigail said. “It was fine.” Perhaps it had been a confusing day, but a good day nonetheless, and she didn’t need to burden Conrad with all her difficult feelings regarding Roan.
He had no business hearing all of it, and frankly, she didn’t want him to think badly of Roan when Roan hadn’t done anything wrong besides being awkward, which wasn’t really his fault.
Well, it was, but it wasn’t.
She settled on saying, “It was a fine day.”
Conrad raised his eyes. “You already said that,” he pointed out.
“Oh, I did.” Her cheeks turned pink. “I apologize. I’m scattered tonight.”
“That’s allowed. What’s on your mind?” he asked.
“Not much,” Abigail said, even though that was a complete lie.
There were a million things on her mind—whether Conrad and the others were going to be okay after this curse was over, whether she and Roan would be okay, if Roan was going to ask her to dance again in this dream world—or if she should be brave enough to ask him.
She couldn’t imagine being bold enough to do that herself, but perhaps it would be the only way to get him to dance with her again. She’d been surprised that he’d done so the first night, and she wasn’t sure he’d do it again.
“I see you’re far away,” Conrad said.
Abigail flung a towel over her shoulder and moved down the bar, away from Conrad and his way of seeing right through her. “I suppose I am,” she said, looking down. “It’s been an interesting couple of days.”
“I’ll say,” Conrad said. “I don’t think I’ve left the tavern in three days.”
Abigail raised an eyebrow, hoping he’d elaborate without her having to say anything.
“I’m sorry—I don’t know why I said that,” Conrad said with a laugh. “It’s just an odd feeling that I had. Also, you changed your dress back, which is probably why it feels like it’s been longer than a day.”
Abigail looked down at herself to see she was wearing her usual brown dress and white apron. “I thought I should stop playing dress-up,” she said with a laugh.
So Conrad had been in this dream world the whole time. She needed to tell Roan. Where had that man disappeared to?
“If you’ll excuse me a moment,” she said, turning around and hurrying toward Roan’s office.
But before she could knock on the door, it opened and he strode out, colliding with her at full speed.
Before she could fall, his arms came around her and pulled her close, holding her up while she regained her balance.
“Missed me that much?” he asked, before the light in his eyes faded. He let go of her and took a step back, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry. What did you need?”
Abigail wanted to tell him not to be sorry—that she felt safer in his arms than anywhere else, and maybe she could trip again, and he’d catch her a second time.
But she didn’t dare.
“Conrad has been awake in this dream world since the curse began,” she said quickly, before she could do something so silly as that. “He thinks it’s been one day and I simply went and changed my dress.”
Roan looked down at her dress, then his eyes flipped back up to her face.
“So this is a dream world,” he said, “and you and I are here in our sleep.”
“Yes,” she said, “but not in the daytime.”
“Do you think if we feed them in this dream world, it would make a difference?”
Abigail shrugged. “I don’t know, but it certainly doesn’t hurt to try.
” She took a step away from him before she did something like fling herself at him to feel his arms around her again.
“I’m going to the kitchen, and I’m going to take a can from the pantry, and in the morning, we can see if it’s still there. ”
“I don’t know if that’s how it works, but it’s worth a shot,” he said with a nod. “This magic is strange.”
Abigail didn’t know either, but the magic required to weave a spell like this was far greater than any she’d been exposed to before.
It wasn’t even taught to those who had access to dragon eggs.
“It’s a dark magic,” she said quietly, the words tangling in her throat.
Roan stared at her, a flicker of fear in his eyes before they became hard once more. “After we feed them, you and I need to talk about how you know that this is dark magic.”
He lowered his voice and asked, “If you don’t mind?”
The words were stuck in Abigail’s throat. As much as she wanted to tell Roan, she didn’t want to tell him. She didn’t want him to know where she’d come from, and how she had been raised. But Roan wouldn’t hurt her—she knew that—and he deserved to know.
“Later,” she promised, before turning on her heel and hurrying to the kitchen.
She had soup to prepare.
“Come on, Abigail,” Tanner said, rolling his eyes as she stood over him, her wooden spoon in hand. “I’m not hungry.”
“I don’t care,” she said sweetly. “It’s a new recipe. I need everyone to try it, to tell me whether they like it or not.”
And if she had enhanced the soup slightly to make it irresistible to eat—well, that was no one’s business but hers.
And maybe Roan’s.
But what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, and if they already had to discuss magic later, adding one more thing to confess wouldn’t make a difference.
“Or maybe I’ll just never feed you again.” She let the words trail off in a sickly-sweet threat.
“Oh no,” the boy said, his eyes wide as he picked up the spoon and took his first bite. “I’ll try it.”
Abigail grinned.
She’d had a feeling that when faced with the threat of no more meals at the Lucky Goat, Tanner would cave.
They all had.
She looked around the room at all the nearly empty bowls and nodded in satisfaction.
Either she would wake up in the morning to dirty bowls in the sink and an empty jar, or she would wake up to nothing, and the bitter feeling that despite her past, she might be failing the men in the tavern—men she felt responsible for.
She looked over at Roan, who was watching them all eat with grim determination on his face.
She wasn’t the only one feeling responsible—Roan was anxious, too. If only she could ease his burden. She made her way over to him and stood next to him in solidarity. She might not be able to ease his worries, but at least she could be there so he would not be alone.
“This needs to work,” he muttered.
“It will,” she said, reaching out to take his hand and squeeze it.
It felt completely normal to hold his hand.
It shouldn’t have.
But it did.
She pulled her hand as if to take it away, but he squeezed tighter, not letting go, and she watched as he swallowed hard. Maybe she imagined it, but she could almost see the tension easing in his shoulders.
He could hold her hand if it eased his burden.
“Thank you for being here,” he said quietly.
“Any time.” She meant it. She would be here anytime for Roan and these men.
She owed more to Roan than he could ever know. She had been given a place of her own where she could stand on her own two feet and be strong, and that was something she had never gotten from her father.
She looked up at Roan, who squeezed her hand again in response, and looked back out at the tavern.
This was her home now.
She would go back to sleeping at the inn when the curse broke, but the Lucky Goat was her home.
She had fought the title for the past year, telling herself it was silly to care so much about what was only a job. But it was no longer just a job. Whether she wanted it or not, the Lucky Goat and Roan meant more to her now, and she could not escape that no matter how she tried.
Lyle pulled his fiddle out of the corner, and all eyes turned to the two of them, mischievous grins on every face.
“Dance, dance,” Tanner began chanting.
“No,” Roan said, but Conrad came around the counter and pushed the two of them out from behind it with a twinkle in his eyes.
“You’re in so much trouble,” Roan muttered to Conrad, who simply laughed as he pushed the two of them into the center of the floor.
“You’ll have to deal with it,” Conrad said.
Abigail stood still, her hand still held loosely in Roan’s, and looked up at him. Was he going to refuse, or would he dance with her again?
His eyes softened as he looked down at her, and he offered his other hand without letting go.
“Shall we dance?” he asked, and the tavern erupted into cheers.
Abigail smiled and took a step closer, allowing him to wrap his arm around her waist.
“I love dancing,” she said.
As the fiddle struck up a merry tune, Abigail allowed Roan to twirl her away, and for a few moments, let herself forget they were stuck in a curse together.
As the song came to an end, Conrad was there with an outstretched hand. Roan relinquished his hold, and maybe it was just her imagination, but it felt like he didn’t want to. She felt a thrill run through her at the thought—if only it was true.
Conrad twirled her around the floor amidst cheers and laughter from the rest of the men in the tavern, and Abigail let loose and let herself just have fun.
Dancing with Roan was enjoyable, but right now the two of them didn’t know what they were, and that added a level of caution to their dancing. With Conrad, it was different, and she could just have fun.
The dance came to an end, and the next man was there. Before the night had ended, Abigail had danced with all of them. As she finished her dance with Stumpy, the last man, Abigail took a deep breath and grinned.
“That’s everyone,” she announced. Her cheeks were flushed from exertion, and she was ready to collapse into a chair.
Then Roan was there, holding out his hand.
“One more?” he asked quietly in his deep voice.
Abigail couldn’t keep herself from smiling up at him as she placed her hand in his and nodded to Lyle to play one more song. But instead of the fast songs he’d been playing all evening, he settled into a slower song that almost felt like a lullaby.
Roan pulled her into his arms, and she immediately relaxed into them. She’d been wrong. She didn’t have to be cautious when she was dancing with Roan.
She could completely trust Roan with whatever happened, and as he slowly led her in circles around the room, Abigail couldn’t stop smiling up at him.
This was not what she had expected from the evening, but she couldn’t think of anything more wonderful.