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Very well, that wasn’t upsetting her, then. Perhaps he ought to take a more direct approach.
He dropped his voice. “Be somethin’ wrong?”
“No, I be perfectly fine.”
As if he could believe that. “Forgive me, but I can’t ’elp but think that somethin’ do be wrong. If I’ve done anythin’ to upset ye…”
But she shook her head.
Again, he didn’t believe her. “Be it me actions outside the graveyard?” he whispered. “I shouldn’t ’ave touched ye—”
“I be fine,” she snapped, her whispered voice harsher than he’d ever heard before.
August pulled back. Why was she reacting in such a way? He was only trying to help, to make amends for what he’d done—whatever that had been.
Drawing a few deep breaths, he forced his rising defenses to lower, quelling them with the patience he prided himself on. She was upset. That was why she’d snapped. He could help her be happy if he but tried a little harder.
“I only be tryin’ to ’elp,” he whispered softly. “If ye can tell me what I did…”
She didn’t respond.
“Livvy?”
More silence.
He looked behind them, a group of boys and girls approaching as they made their way down the Mount with their loud laughter and chattering voices.
If he and Livvy were to fix this, they had better do it before the young group was upon them.
“We be friends, be we not?” he asked, trying a different approach. “If ye can tell me, I can listen as a friend.”
She scoffed, averting her gaze.
His defenses rose again at the derision with which she treated him. “What?” he asked.
“Nothin’.”
“It ’ad to be somethin’,” he countered. Once again, he quelled his frustration that festered inside him like fungus on a tree, though he could not be fully rid of it this time.
She glanced up at him. “It be just an interestin’ choice o’ words, that be all.”
He paused. Well, she’d spoken. That was progress. But then, what words had she been referring to, that they were friends?
He peered down at her. “We do be friends. Ain’t we?”
Her lips thinned. “I thought so.”
She was speaking enigmatically, he was sure of it. But as the group of boys and girls edged ever closer, August simply didn’t have the time to solve such cryptic messages.
“Look, Livvy,” he said, “I be askin’ ye to tell me what be wrong. I don’t ’ave time to play these games.”
“I ain’t playin’ a game, Mr. Moon.”
He raised his brow. “Mr. Moon?”
She raised her chin, the firm set to it telling him all he needed to know. She was in no mood to speak.
He’d been a fool to even attempt to pull something from her lips that she wasn’t willing to give.
