Page 7 of Seraph's Tears
I licked my lips, thinking of a response.
His eyes darkened, narrowing in on my mouth. He leaned forward.
Did he feel it, too?
No, it didn’t matter. I pushed onward. “I have heard stories of your kind but never truly believed them.” That was…mostly true. I wasn’t about to tell him my entire upbringing in the Church of the Love of His Divine Saints had been full of speculations about him, the leader of the winged monsters. Angels.
I forced myself back to the conversation at hand. “I will stay.” Only as long as I have to, though.
His lips pursed and his chest expanded with a deep breath. “If you decide you cannot tolerate working for me, do not run away into the night. The moors can be dangerous for those unused to them. I expect complete discretion from you.” His eyes hardened. “Complete. I will be severely angry if my privacy is violated. That is why you are earning such generous wages.”
I am? Zor had handled all the correspondence and negotiations with the manservant. I had just gone where I was told.
I nodded. “And what duties do you expect of me, sir?”
One hand waved vaguely. “Housekeeper duties.”
“Such as?” I pressed. I could keep a normal-sized house. That’s one of the reasons I was betrothed despite not being a good catch otherwise. But a manor? On the moors? No, I was used to the outskirts of Lownden. I was used to living among the church community, serving the men alongside other women—my friends, my family.
“Cleaning?” It came out as a question, but by the rigid set of those bare shoulders I didn’t think he meant it to be.
“But what rooms do you wish me to prioritize? The Great Hall? Your chambers?”
His eyes widened and alarm passed across his face—at least, that’s what I would’ve called it if he were human. “No, leave my private rooms for last. The Great Hall can be your first focus.”
“What about cooking? What did your butler do?”
“Very little,” he said dryly.
“There’s not much left in the pantry or larder. Should I make a shopping list? What do seraphim eat?”
His nostrils flared and his lips pressed into a firm line. “What is this inquisition?”
I nearly took a step back. But no, I was a new Eve, I was forging myself stronger and better. So I lifted my chin. “I’m your housekeeper and your cook. I need to know what you eat.”
Gabriel shrugged. “Seraphim do not eat much. When I do, I source my own food from the sky.”
My stomach growled. I slapped a hand to it, hoping he hadn’t noticed.
He frowned at my middle. “What is wrong? Are you ill?”
“No.” I flushed. “That’s a human hunger noise.”
“You may eat when you feel the need,” he told me magnanimously.
I hesitated.
For being a hermit, Gabriel read human faces well. “What?”
“Like I said, there’s not much food. I have perhaps enough for tonight’s meal.” The thought of the hardened, dry bread made my mouth pucker. “May I go to the village tomorrow and purchase food? For both of us?”
He nodded.
“Thank you. I have a trunk at the inn, too. I’ll pick it up when I go,” I babbled. His gaze was making me nervous again.
I bent over to pick up the bucket. It was heavier than I remembered, and I tilted forward, wildly off balance. The key fell out of my bodice, dangling around my neck.
The mossy cobblestones careened toward me. Perfect. In front of the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen, too. I squeezed my eyes shut, letting the bucket drop to catch myself. Water splashed over my dusty skirt.
