Page 40 of The Beast Between Us
“Never in years have there been so many visitors,” Oswin mutters, already turning to head back inside the manor.
The memory of Lord Byron’s last visit flashes through my mind, and I scramble to my feet. I rush after Oswin, determined to stay close…just out of sight…in case someone tries to hurt my friend again.
“And what exactly is it that you have planned?”
The deep voice startles me, and I whirl around so quickly I lose my balance, landing hard on my backside. Pain radiates through my side, but not nearly as bad as it would have been even a week ago. I’m healing quickly.
“How on earth does someone as large as you move without making a single sound?” I groan, glaring up at Thorne. “It’s not natural. Do you float or something?”
I smile to show I’m teasing.
He doesn’t smile back. “You didn’t answer my question.”
I push to my feet, brushing dirt from my palms. “I was following Oswin… to make sure he’s safe. I was going to stay hidden unless I was needed.”
“What am I to do with you, Ella?” he mutters, shaking his head.
There’s no real anger in his tone. Only a kind of quiet exasperation. If anything, it sounds almost… fond.
“You could let me help,” I offer. “Or at least let me try to be useful.”
He stares at me, expression unreadable. “You already are. Infuriatingly so.”
“That felt like a compliment and an insult all in one.”
“Good,” he grumbles, but I catch the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth.
I tilt my head. “Are you smiling?”
“No.”
“You were.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You are,” I grin, stepping closer. “You like me.”
His growl rumbles low, but it’s half-hearted at best. “Careful, Ella.”
“Or what?”
He steps closer…so close I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. “Or I might decide to like you more than I should.”
That shuts me up.
For a moment, the world stills. It’s just Thorne and I in a bubble of solitude.
Then he turns away, breaking the spell. “Come on, shadow. If you’re going to lurk, at least do it where I can see you. But, stay behind me.”
“Gladly,” I whisper, falling into step behind him.
We reach the door just as Oswin pulls it open. His tone is carefully neutral, but the tension in his shoulders betrays him.
“Sir. You are no longer welcome on this property. I must ask you to leave.”
“Nonsense,” a familiar voice calls out. “I have come to see my daughter. And to offer your master a proposition.”
“Father,” I whisper, dread crawling up my spine.
