The Beastkeeper's Redemption

Eleven

Eleven 
-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

"I do not believe you," Tiffany Cotton laughed, the sound a pleasant melody that warmed his ears, that lingered in the boughs overlooking their path through the forest that day.

"It's true," Kaede told her. He smiled when he glanced down at her pressed to his side. He enjoyed the way she seemed to grow pinker whenever he did. Up until her, he didn't think he had deserved to smile again, to feel awash with happiness. "Three and twenty."

She made a small scoffing noise, tearing her gaze away from his to peer at their path. Her footsteps were light and careful along the muddy terrain, and she clung to his arm for support as they navigated through the expanse of dense woodland that seemed to grow in uninhibited abundance around the estate. The prim little boots that she had on were made of sturdy leather, but they certainly did not hold much resistance against the terrain. Not that he minded in the least since it gave him an excuse to have her at his side.

"I simply can't imagine it," she told him with a shake of her head. "That is quite a few venison pies to consume at once."

"Well, it was either that or lose the wager to my brother," he shrugged. "And then it would have been I sprinting through the village at noon wearing a woman's petticoats and a garter."

Her lips trembled with a smile and she slid her gaze to him briefly. It was a momentary connection as he was soon helping her over a smooth-surfaced boulder that had grown slippery with ice. Voluminous skirts tangled against her legs and she lost her footing, the material trailing along the ground behind her. He steadied her easily, longing to put her in something more suitable for a brisk walk in the wilderness. Her coat was about the only sensible thing she wore, cinching tight at her waist, and yet it seemed to incorporate the most mundane curtaining fabric known to humankind. He'd rather like to spend his days acquiring a wardrobe for her that would set off her curves and fit her form with more comfort, a menagerie of items with bright colours and contrasts that suited the mischievousness behind her eyes and the sultriness of her kisses.

And yet, Kaede knew, that if Miss Cotton only wanted to spend her life in drab grey coats, then he would adore her for it still.

"Did he really do that?" she asked, drawing him away from his contemplations.

"Most certainly." He leapt off the boulder and pivoted to her, catching her about the waist and hoisting her effortlessly to the ground. She clutched his forearms, her fingers spasming in fright, and her eyes grew wide behind the lenses of her spectacles. Not for the first time, he marvelled at the myriad of colours bursting around her pupil- greens and ambers, mingling with the darker outer ring of her iris. "Our mother did not let us back in the house after the furore it caused in the village. Especially since it was her petticoats that we had ruined."

"Oh dear." There was a laugh in her voice though, and he eased her back to his side. Instead of slipping her arm through the crook of his elbow, however, she placed her hand into his, lacing their fingers together. "Your poor mother."

"She certainly had a difficult time with Caël and I," he admitted. "But we'd do anything for her now. As soon as things have culminated at Ravensfield, we'll find a nice home for her to settle among friends and family." The thought of his mother always made him worried. He didn't like to think of her alone and far out of their reach, though Yilan was a fiercely stubborn and independent type. Years ago, he'd appealed to her to end her service with a seamstress as the long hours and toil of the labour was bending her body with age. Yilan wouldn't hear of it, however, and to that day insisted on treating her sons like the recalcitrant boys they could be by feeding them, spoiling them, and occasionally cuffing them about the ears whenever they did something stupid.