“You can go to bed or I’ll carry you there.”
Bella’s mouth dropped open and so did Fiona’s.
He wasn’t joking.
“I’m very serious,” Prentice warned, sounding very, very serious.
There it was; he wasn’t joking.
“Prentice, I don’t see why –”
Prentice interrupted her, his voice harsh. “I have enough to worry about and so does my son, without either of us having to worry about you.”
Well, Fiona had to admit, that was true enough.
The color went out of Bella’s cheeks again and Fiona reckoned Bella agreed.
“Go to bed,” Prentice repeated.
Bella looked to the oven, her shoulders fell then she looked back at Prentice.
“The chicken has another hour to cook. It needs to be basted every fifteen minutes. The vegetables –” she began.
“Aye, I’ll do it.”
“The chicken has to be cooked through, if it isn’t –”
He cut her off by saying, low and rumbly, “Elle.”
She snapped her mouth shut.
Then she nodded.
Prentice let go of her arm, she started to walk away, stopped and turned back.
“Are you going back to Sally after tea?” she asked.
“Aye,” he answered shortly.
She hesitated and crossed her arms on her middle, fingers curled around her elbows. She licked her lips, stared at the floor a second then took a deep breath and enquired in a voice so soft, even Fiona, with extra-sensory abilities due to her ghost-dom, could almost not hear, “If I’m awake, can I come with you?”
Prentice glared at her.
Bella withstood the glare but Fiona saw her swallow nervously.
Then he grunted, “Aye.”
Her lips turned up in an almost smile.
Then she left the room.
Prentice stared after her for a long time.
Then he tore his hand through his hair as he bent his head to stare at his boots.
Then he ruined tea.
* * * * *