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“I’ll show you a few things tomorrow.”
“Great!” I was probably overly cheery in my reply, but I really was feeling encouraged by his response. I had to find a way to win him over so that I could stay here. Seduction seemed out of the question. While it was clear I had a physical effect on him, that effect didn’t exactly seem positive. He seemed almost frightened of his own desires for me. Or maybe even disgusted. If I pushed him too far, I could push him away entirely. But if I could show him what a good worker I was, maybe he’d grow to admire me, respect me, love me, and –
Hold on. Love me?
I stopped chewing mid-bite, staring blankly at Silar as he shoved some meat into his mouth.
Did I actually want my husband to love me?
Maybe I had been lonely. Maybe I had been searching for something. Maybe I was still chest-deep in grief for Mama.
But love? Here? With him? A man who talked more to his animals than he did to me?
Oh, God. How stupid was I?
This was even worse than borrowing money from the mob. At least the worst outcome of that scenario only ended up with me being dead.
The outcome of this scenario, of falling for Silar and hoping for my unrequited feelings to be returned…
That would end in heartbreak. Which was a million fucking times worse.
Silar’s as solid as they come. The warden had told me so, and I believed him. Silar was good. Decent. Loyal, I hoped, if I could prove myself worthy of such loyalty.
But could he actually love me? Did he even want to?
Somehow, I doubted it. And that hurt a hell of a whole lot more than I wanted to acknowledge. A hell of a lot more than it should have.
With a huge amount of effort, I swallowed my half-chewed bite of egg. When I looked down at my plate again, the food was blurred by a veil of tears.
I shouldn’t be crying over this. I shouldn’t be crying at all. I was safe. I was alive.
I was lucky.
My husband might not end up loving me but he had built me a table and everything was going to be alright…
Probably.
18
CHERRY
Any stupid, weird, new hopes about my husband actually growing to love me were dashed after dinner when he stoked the fire so high that the house became toasty enough there would be no reason to touch each other in bed.
After collecting my clean and now-dry PJs from where I’d hung them, putting them on, and crawling into bed, I watched as Silar heaved himself awkwardly into the bedroom after me. I guessed that with the table and chair project finished, he didn’t have an excuse to dawdle out in his workshop late into the night. And while I wasn’t great at reading Zabrian expressions, especially on a face as stony as Silar’s, the man looked exhausted. He really was just here to lie down, do his best to ignore me, and sleep.
He took off his boots, reached for his belt, then hesitated, his gaze jerking to me as if he’d gotten lost in muscle memory and had only just remembered I was there. In his bed. Watching him like a weirdo.
“Don’t worry about me,” I squeaked, flapping a very uncool and not-at-all nonchalant hand his way. “Wear whatever you usually do. Whatever is comfortable.”
After a moment’s consideration, he did end up taking off his belt and placing it on top of the dresser. He kicked off his boots as well, but ultimately left his trousers on. Without realizing just where my thoughts were going, I wondered idly about where his soiled pants had ended up after he’d…
Nope. Don’t need to think about that.
And I wasn’t going to say anything about his current trousers, either, only…
“They’re a little dusty,” I said doubtfully, noting the creased and therefore slightly more clean places that were a completely different colour from the rest of the fabric. “I mean, it’s up to you, of course! I’m not complaining!”
I was complaining, though, at least a little. I’d gotten my PJs all nice and clean, and the blanket and bedsheets were pretty clean, too. Which told me that he didn’t normally wear his dusty clothing to bed.
