Page 27 of The Beast of Ashwood Manor

I jumped and looked over to find Gil leaning against the side of the house, shrouded in his thick dark cloak and hood as always. When had he come outside?

Clenching my teeth, I turned back around, ignoring him. If he was going to do it to me, I would do the same back to him.

After tossing three of the legs into the wood pile, I came back for the rest, but he blocked my way.

“Why did you break it?” he asked.

I brushed past him and picked up the flat part of the table and the remaining leg. He didn’t say anything else until I’d thrown it into the pile. On my way back to the manor, Gil followed behind me.

“Are you just going to ignore me?”

Turning on my heel, I blew hot air out of my nose. “I’mignoringyou?” I took a few breaths. “That’s all you’ve done is ignore me for the past month! Yet when I do it back, suddenly, you’re upset about it?”

Gil licked his lips and looked down at my hands. “Will you just let me help you?” He nodded down at my cut, where the blood had run down my arm.

I crossed my arms and sighed. “It’s fine,” I sneered. “Just like you told me before about your leg wound.”

He nodded. “Well, I’d like to talk with you, if that’s all right. I’ll meet you in your room.”

When Gil came to my room with a small box, I opened it and was relieved to see a pair of tweezers inside. Sighing, I thanked him.

Gil pulled out the tweezers and nodded to the chair before the fireplace. “Just sit down, and I’ll do it for you.”

Surprised, I slumped down in the chair, but then straightened my back when I caught what I was doing. “Thanks.”

“How did you get so many splinters anyway?”

“It’s hard to break apart a table, you know.” I raised my brow.

As Gil picked the splinters out of my hands and fingers, I watched his face in the light. Behind that scruffy hair and beard was a handsome face, still young, but his hazel eyes were always distant.

“You should really wear gloves if you’re going to get angry and tear something apart with your hands.” Gil picked out a piece of wood and placed it on the end table between the chairs.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t plan on being destructive today.”

“There’s no telling what you’re going to do on any given day.”

“Yeah, well, I can say the same about you—ow!” The tweezers clipped my skin.

Gil’s lips tugged up at the corner. “Sorry.”

I scowled at him before continuing, “You told me I was free to do what I wanted to help out. I help Royce in the kitchen and Edgar outside. But those aretheirthings. I thought I could help fix whatever I can around here.”

“I thought fixing meals was what a kitchen knave did.”

I resisted rolling my eyes. “My father was a carpenter. He taught me all he knew before he died.”

Gil’s eyes flicked up to me then back down to my hand. “It’s a good skill to have.”

“Was that a compliment?”

His hand was sweaty in mine. “Perhaps,” he replied. When I shifted in my seat again, he looked at me funny and asked, “Why do you keep doing that?”

“Doing what?” I asked, blinking.

“You fidget about so much. One minute you look dazed, and then you straighten your back up like a stiff board.”

“Oh.” I frowned. “It’s just a habit. My mother always hit me if I didn’t straighten my back around others.”

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