Page 26 of The Beast Between Us
I blink. “Why not? It won’t take long. I could have the whole story finished before you’re even halfway through one of yourfourbowls of stew and bread.”
He doesn’t look up, but I see the faintest twitch of his mouth…just a flicker.
“I said I want to know the reasons,” he says. “And I do. But not until I’m done eating.”
“And why’s that?” I press, more curious than annoyed.
He finally lifts his gaze to mine, eyes dark and unreadable.
“Because I don’t want to be angry while I eat.”
Oh.
“Thank you for the clothing,” I say with a smile, shifting the subject. I know when to push and when to take a step back.
“It’s nothing.”
“It’smost definitelynot nothing,” I say, eyes wide. “There are more dresses in my new room than I’ve ever owned. And they’re far more beautiful than anything that I’ve ever had.”
He doesn’t respond right away. Then…
“And yet, you chose to wear the one Oswin brought to you yesterday.”
I flush, warmth rushing to my cheeks.
“I just love this dress,” I say, running a hand down the fabric. “Your mother was quite skilled with the needle and thread.”
“She was,” he replies, moving aside his empty bowl and digging into his second.
There’s a pause before I say, with more curiosity than caution, “Do you think I could take a bath in your tub one day?”
He chokes. Literally coughs on his stew.
“Why on earth would you want to do that?” he asks, wiping his mouth.
“Oswin said your water comes from a tank on the roof,” I explain, smiling. “I had a bit of fun with the kitchen water while I was cleaning earlier… but I’dloveto see it fill a whole tub.”
I lift a hand, half-teasing. “I’m kidding. I wouldn’t use that much water. Promise.”
He just stares at me, his soup cooling by the second.
“Maybe one day, when you’re not very busy, you can show me the pipes,” I say with a smile. “How do you heat the water? Are you being cooked while in the tub?”
“Cooked?” he repeats, frowning. “No. The water is heated as it passes through the pipes running through the furnace.”
“Oh,” I say, brightening. “I’d like to see that too.”
He stares at me for a long moment, like he’s trying to decide whether I’m genuinely curious or simply trying to kill him with innocent persistence.
Finally, he clears his throat and mutters, “You can use the tub if you want.”
I blink. “Really?”
“I don’t care how much water you use,” he grumbles, grabbing a slice of bread like the conversation hasn’t made his clawstwitch. “The tanks refill themselves with rain. It’s not as if we’re rationing.”
A smile tugs at my lips, and I lean in just slightly, teasing. “So I can take a long bath?”
He groans under his breath. “Take seven, if it’ll stop the questions about plumbing.”
