Page 10 of Her Majesty's Necromancer
"Now you don't at all. Nor do you join them for tea, or breakfast, as you used to do on occasion. You're avoiding me, Mr. Fitzroy, and I want to know why."
I thought his jaw couldn't harden any more, but it seemed it could. The muscle bunched tight. I resisted the urge to stroke it until he relaxed again.
He suddenly turned away and strode to the window. He leaned against the frame, crossed his arms again and stared up at the sky. He didn't ask me to leave, and after a moment, his jaw relaxed. I waited until he was ready, even though it stretched my nerves.
"I thought you wouldn't want to be near me after what I did."
I was about to ask him what he meant when it clicked into place. He was referring to paying that man to scare me beneath the bridge. The brute had almost raped me, and Lincoln had saved me by killing him, but that didn't change the fact that he'd set him on me in the first place. I'd been furious with him at the time, but my anger hadn't lasted. Perhaps a scare had been the only way to make me stay at Lichfield Towers. Nothing short of a severe fright would have succeeded. Now, I couldn't imagine living anywhere else, but then, I'd been scared of exposing my necromancy and unsure if I could trust Lincoln or the ministry.
"That doesn't make sense," I said, approaching. "I asked you to teach me to defend myself. Why would I do that if I wanted to get away from you?"
"Outside of those times," he said without looking at me. "I thought it best to give you space and time while you settle in, without my interference."
"Perhaps I want your interference." I touched his shoulder but withdrew my hand when he flinched.
The fingers on his right hand curled into the left shirt sleeve at his bicep. "You should hate me."
"I can't."
"You should!" He pushed off from the window frame and stalked past me, bumping my arm as he did so.
"I know I should," I snapped. "But I don't. You're not all bad, Lincoln, no matter what everyone thinks. Or what you think, for that matter."
He pulled open the door. "Is that all?"
"Actually, no. I came up here to tell you what I learned at the cemetery about the grave robbers."
Some of the tension left his shoulders. He blinked at me. "You told me you were visiting your mother's grave."
"I did. I just happened upon a helpful groundskeeper afterward. He was in the vicinity when the grave was robbed."
"The one with a birthmark on his face?"
I nodded.
"I spoke to him. He claimed not to have seen anything."
"Did you ask him if he heard something?"
"I thought that was implied in my first question."
"For most people, yes, but he was terribly shy and loathe to speak up. I had to be delicate with him. I expect you interrogated him in your usual brutal way."
"I didn't hit him."
"I meant your intimidating brusqueness."
"I find that method works well. As does using my fists."
"On some, but not this man. He was extremely anxious. I can only imagine how overwhelming it must have been for him to be confronted by you."
"You think speaking to you is less overwhelming?"
I held my hands out from my sides. "My physique is considerably less threatening than yours, wouldn't you say?"
"That depends on what you mean by threatening."
I rolled my eyes. "It would seem my technique worked better than yours, anyway."
