Page 33 of Unwilling Wolf

His brows lowered and his darkened eyes met hers. “I was thinking on what you said last night. About making the best of the situation? I know I haven’t been fair to you. Now, I can’t promise to change my ways completely. I feel the same as I did yesterday, but I should be trying harder than this—” He waved his hand around. “Making us both miserable. We know this ain’t a love match.”

She dropped her gaze to avoid him seeing the pain that was surely in her eyes. He was finally trying to talk to her. The least she could do was make it easy for him to continue.

“I think this would be easier on us if we could be friendly,” he finished.

She looked up and smiled at him. Even if a little sadly, it was the best she could do. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Mr. Shaw. We can be friendly.”

He held out his hand, but raw and exposed to the fickle blade of his words, she hesitated to touch him. Then she pressed her hand lightly into Garret’s, amazed by the warmth of it, and shook it slowly.

“What happened to your hand?” he said, turning her palm over and giving her a puzzled look.

Embarrassed, she pulled it away. Should she admit how hard she’d been working to prove him wrong? Or to impress him...or maybe both? “I wasn’t used to working with my hands.”

He ignored her hesitation at his touch and took both of her hands in his, examined them more closely. “These look painful. Has Lenny been putting salve on them?”

“Every morning, though I can’t see it helping much,” she admitted.

“I guess you weren’t exaggerating when you said you were helping with the chores.” His glowing blue eyes cast up to her and held her trapped. “Look, I think you need to take tomorrow off and let your hands heal up. Infection runs rampant out here, and getting the doctor to the ranch is pretty hard at best. You’re…”

“Human?” she guessed again.

“Fragile,” he said.

She canted her head and clenched her fists in his hands. “You’re wrong, Mr. Shaw. I am changing by the day.”

“Just so,” he said softly, “I would request you take some time to heal.”

She didn’t like the sound of taking a day off. Keeping busy made her feel as if she contributed to the good of her new home. “It was hauling feed to the cattle, mucking out stalls, and riding so much that tore them up. I think I should be fine doing what I did today, though. Milking hurts, but it doesn’t make them worse.”

The clock ticked and logs snapped in the fireplace as he studied her hands, rubbed the edges of her wounds with his thumbs. Then he nodded and released them. “Keep them wrapped though. Please.”

“All right.”

“And we need to put Lenny’s salve on them before you go to bed tonight. It’s probably rubbing off as soon as you start doing work with your hands during the day.”

From the cupboard where Lenny stored her medicinals, Eliza pulled the jar of gloppy, odorous, greenish-brown salve. She had no idea what was in it and was honestly afraid to ask. It looked like pig shite but smelled herbal, so Lenny probably wasn’t actually slathering feces on her hands following breakfast every morning.

Garret took the jar from her, surprising her. He took clean linen strips from the same cupboard, then sat down in front of her. After a few minutes of diligent and confident work by him, her hands were soothed and wrapped. Afterward, as he stood, he squeezed her shoulder gently, bewildering her, and readied a fire. He was still damp from a day in the rain.

Unable to do any sewing with her wrapped hands, Eliza went back to reading the well-worn copy of Oliver Twist she’d started that afternoon by the fire. As on the night before, she felt Garret’s occasional glance in her direction, but was at a loss to interpret any of that undecipherable man’s thoughts.

Eventually she grew tired. “I’m off to bed, I think.” She smiled at him and walked down the hallway to her bedroom. She had changed into a nightdress and was taking the pins out of her hair when a light knock sounded at the door. Her breath caught in her throat and she padded to the door, opened it just wide enough to peek out. Garret stood there, leaning up against the doorframe and looking every bit like he regretted knocking in the first place.

His gaze took in the sliver of her nightdress. “I’m going to bed. Just wanted to tell you happy birthday. And goodnight,” he added.

“Goodnight, Garret.”

He hovered, uncertain.

Heart pounding, Eliza opened the door wider. “Can I tell you something?”

His chest rose and fell with his deep breathing, and his glowing, inhuman eyes drifted to her nightdress, and back to her face. His Adam’s apple worked as he swallowed hard. “Yes.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

She pursed her lips against a shy smile, and stepped toward him before she could change her mind. She placed her palms on his chest, lifted up on her tiptoes, and pressed her lips against his cheek. “Thank you for being nice to me tonight.”

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