He nudged the book.
Warmth bloomed in her chest. “All right. But pay attention. I won’t reread something if you miss it.”
His ears flicked back at a squawking bird on the far side of the meadow, but faced her again when she began reading aloud. After a while, he rested his chin on the root next to her, and while she held the pages open with one hand, she placed her other hand on his nose, stroking the soft fur every so often.
A few days passed in this manner, with Jane reading to Gifford while the sun was up, and the two of them spiriting food and medicine to nearby villages at night. If the house staff noticed that the lord and lady appeared to be going through the food stores unusually quickly, they never complained.
In the parlor, Jane finished reading the last pages of The Jewels of the World: Man-made Marvels and How They Were Built just as the sun touched the horizon. She watched the orange and red burn across the sky, shining through the large windows. Outside, Gifford-the-horse stopped running as his own light overtook him, and the silhouette of a horse became the silhouette of a man. As soon as he regained a sense of his humanity, he’d come inside for dinner/breakfast. Anticipation stirred deep in her stomach.
She placed her book on the shelf and buzzed around the parlor lighting candles for a few minutes, trying to appear busy.
Twilight had deepened when at last the door opened and Gifford stepped inside, clad in the clothes she’d laid out for him. His hair was combed and tied in a tail again, and there was the usual bounce to his step, as though running for half the day didn’t affect him whatsoever. “Good evening, my lady. How many books did you read today? Anything about horses?”
“You have hay in your hair.”
He smoothed his hand over his hair before he caught her smile. “No horse jokes.”
“Never! But I wanted to ask: are you catching a chill? You sound hoarse.”
Gifford snorted and shut the parlor door behind him. “And you look flushed. I hope you’re not burning from the sun.”
“If I didn’t spend every day reading to a horse whose only thoughts were for the apples I provide—”
“I never asked you to climb the tree to fetch more apples. And while we’re on the subject, I am a horse, not a stool.”
“Will you add that to the rules?”
“And risk another rule regarding your books? I think not.” He came toward her, subtly checking his ponytail for hay. “My lady, there’s something I wish to discuss.”
His tone had changed, the ever-present playfulness shifting into something more serious. It was the same tone he’d used when he’d described his feelings on being an E?ian and how he believed the scales needed “to be righted in the direction of equality” for E?ians and Verities alike.
“All right.” Truly, he’d been more handsome than ever during his speech that night. It had been the first time she’d ever thought there might be more to his mind than women, ale, and the wind in his mane.
“I wasn’t sure whether to tell you.” He closed his eyes and turned his face away from the candle she’d just lit. “It seemed like it might be easier for you to assume I hadn’t the wits to comprehend what you were saying, but I’ve given this a lot of careful thought and I’ve decided I wanted you to know.”
Jane gazed up at him.
“The other day when you came out to the meadow and told me that you appreciate what I did during the E?ian attack, I heard. I understood.”
So he’d gone off in his horsey-like behavior simply to put her at ease. How unexpectedly kind of him.
“But I also wanted you to know that what you tried to do—that was very honorable, if ill-advised. I’d been so busy studying the Pack I’d hardly thought to do something, having already decided there was nothing I could do. And while I will never regret preventing you from being foolishly brave, I do regret that I had not been willing to even try.”
Jane said nothing. The words were nice, but this was a man accustomed to wooing women. He was adept at appealing to whatever side of them would move him closer to the bed. Married or not, Jane refused to be so easily swayed. She needed proof.
Gifford’s eyes were still closed, his face still in shadow. She touched his jaw and turned him until he looked at her. He was earnest and serious.
“As much as it pains me for you to know yet another of my flaws,” he said, “I wanted you to know that I heard every word you said that day, and I’ve heard every word since. Sitting under the tree with you, listening to you read, has become one of the best parts of my day.”
“Second only to apples?”
The tension in his shoulders relaxed. “I know there is more to you than your apples.”
Jane blushed and said, “Sharing my books with you has been one of the best parts of my days here, as well.”