When she broke the surface, he had scooted his chair closer. She wiped her eyes in case her vision was just blurry from the water, but nope—his chair was closer by five feet, at least. She could almost reach out and touch his back from here.
“You’ll learn to be less sensitive,” he said. She didn’t miss that his voice was growlier now.
“Maybe someday you’ll learn to be less cruel.”
“Mmm,” he said.
“What shade of gray?”
“What?”
“What shade of gray is your fur? And can you hand me that soap?”
Garret stood and moved gracefully to a small table that had a stack of washcloths and a bar of soap on it. He retrieved it and brought it to her, eyes downcast. He handed it to her and then walked out of the room. Just like that. He was just done talking, and left.
The sound of his bedroom door closing left this hollow feeling inside of her. She sat there for a few seconds, mulling over what had just transpired.
When the click of his bedroom door sounded again, she startled and watched him stride back into the washroom with a pair of elixir bottles. No…she frowned as he handed them to her. It was hair wash, and conditioning treatment.
“I didn’t know what smell you would prefer, so I asked the woman at the store. She said sweet pea is best for rich folks.”
She didn’t know what to say. “W-when did you get these?” she asked, handling the bottles gently.
“When I took the cattle to sell. I thought… Fuck.”
“You thought what, Garret?”
“I thought it would make somethin’ easier for you here.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. If you don’t like the smell, don’t worry about it. It was cheap.”
But when she opened the bottle of hair wash, it didn’t smell cheap at all. It smelled very fine, and had a consistency that would be very good for her hair. He was just playing off the gift he’d gotten her.
“Thank you,” she whispered, lifting her eyes to him.
He was staring at her chest, and she realized she had uncovered herself when she’d reached for the bottles.
This was the part where she was supposed to remember her modesty, right? She was supposed to cover herself and be a proper lady.
But…
Garret had been right. He was her husband. And he was standing before her, looking half monster with his scars and muscles, and half man with his smooth skin and hungry eyes.
Eliza set the pair of bottles on the small table on the other side of the tub, and then slowly, eyes on his, she leaned back into the tub.
Garret inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring, and then rolled his eyes closed and backed away. He turned and headed for the door.
“Would you help me wash?” she asked.
Garret froze in the doorway. He gripped the doorframe and leaned into it by inches. The wood splintered under his grasp, and she was stunned by the power he hid from the outside world.
“Woman, I’m fuckin’ trying here.”
“You say that word a lot.”
“Yeah, and it ain’t going anywhere, and I ain’t getting better about it.”
“Didn’t say it was a bad thing. I accept it.”
He slid her a glare over his shoulder. “You’re starting to work me, aren’t you.”