Miss Abigail's Beastly Beau by Maggie Dallen (amazing books to read TXT) 📕

earl’s manor. I told you that he’d requested her there, did I not?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “It seems he’s in need of her medical knowledge more than you are, and Rebecca was all too happy to accompany her to a grand country estate. And so you see, with Sally not here to minister to your injury, you must allow me to—”

“No.” He interrupted too harshly. Curse it. Of course he’d been harsh. He’d never done anything gently in his life. And right now, his heart was thudding as a primal rage stirred in his gut. Something was wrong.

She was not okay.

“No? But surely your bandage—”

“My leg has healed,” he said. “I do not need your sister to nurse me and I certainly don’t require your help either.”

She blinked and he had the unnerving sensation that he’d unwittingly hurt her.

Curse it all. He just barely held back a growl of annoyance at his own bad behavior. But for once his behavior wasn’t the real issue. Something was the matter with her if she was prattling on like this.

The girl could talk. In fact, he’d come to grow somewhat used to her filling the air with that sweet voice of hers. But this was different.

If only he could see her eyes again. But she was still looking away from him, fidgeting with her apron. “I suppose if you don’t need my help, I still ought to bring you food now and again. After all, a gentleman like yourself—”

She went silent and still when his fingers touched her jaw. Lightly. He was as gentle as he knew how to be as he turned her cheek so she was facing him.

There it was.

He could see it now, and the sight of it made him filled with so much anger it was all he could do not to tear down the walls of this cottage. “You’ve been crying.”

Chapter 2

You’ve been crying.

She sniffed and pulled her head away, moving to the far side of the cramped room. “Really, Mr. Calhoun. You make it sound like some sort of accusation.”

Her voice was bright, her smile cheerful. She glanced over.

He was not buying it.

Oh my, but his glower was fierce. She supposed he’d terrified many enemies with that stern expression. Combined with his enormous stature and his excessively broad shoulders, the overall effect was quite intimidating.

Or, it would be if he were not so...so...

Well, not nice. That wasn’t the word. And no one was as far from the word ‘sweet’ as this fellow. But there was something very nice about him. And yes, she’d even call it sweet. Something cozy and warm, at the very least.

There was definitely something about him that made her feel safe.

She tilted her head to the side as she studied him. Perhaps that was a side effect of him having saved her life. She’d found him oddly endearing before then, of course, but when he’d leapt in front of that scoundrel Roger and blocked the knife intended for her...

Well, who could be afraid of a man who put his life on the line for hers?

“Who made you cry?” He stalked toward her now, his tone so low she could feel the rumble of it in her chest as if he brought with him a storm and his voice was the thunder.

She blinked in surprise before catching herself. Who’d made her cry? What a silly suggestion. “No one.”

His grunt sounded like a harrumph and she pressed her lips together to hide her amusement. He truly was rather adorable when he fussed.

Not that she would ever tell him that. He seemed to think he was quite terrifying. And she supposed he would have been if she hadn’t come to know him so well. And now...

Well, he looked as though he would tear the earth apart to seek vengeance on whomever upset her.

For some reason she couldn’t explain, that thought made the ridiculous stinging sensation return in force, and before she could stop it tears hovered on her lashes. She widened her eyes—a sort of last-ditch effort to keep them from spilling over. Instead, they filled her eyes to the point that all she could make out was the hazy form of Caleb Calhoun.

Mr. Calhoun who had frozen. Even through the tears she could see him standing there. Hovering before her, his eyes widening as well. “Do not cry.”

She sniffed, torn between a laugh and a sob. “Is that an order?”

“Yes.”

She sniffed again, the sensation settling somewhat as though her body knew better than to cross this giant, even if she and her little ones did just that on a regular basis. She drew in a deep breath and blinked away the tears, using the sleeve of her dress to swipe away what lingered.

“Better?” he asked. Those thick dark brows were drawn down low. Goodness, he truly must have been a terrifying sight for his enemies.

Luckily for her, he was her friend. Whether he knew it or not.

Whether he wanted to be or not.

After all, surely a man who saved her life was a friend. She couldn’t think what else to label him...and so she’d befriended him.

Without his knowing.

She took another deep breath and this time she flashed a smile at the room at large because her young charges had stilled, watching her closely. Anxiously.

“I’m all right,” she told them.

As if the room exhaled as one, the tension fled the premises, and they went about their play. The sound of their chatter and laughter was a balm. It soothed her, even as she knew it irritated others around her.

“Why are you crying?” he asked.

She broadened her smile. “I’m not crying.” Not anymore.

That not-quite-a-lie earned her a growl that she took to mean ‘don’t prevaricate.’

His growls had quite the vocabulary. It was amazing how much this man could convey with grunts and glowers.

She, on the other, was clearly expected to speak. To open up to him, as it were. She wet her lips as she studied him. Finally, she gave her head