Elinor's POV
I didn't know how to reply to him, and something told me he wasn't exactly seeking a reply, but I suppose he was alert when it came to my reaction because his expression grew full of compassion when he released my hand and ran a hand down my hair.
"You should check the stew," he said softly and let me go to tend the chicken we had decided to roast.
I looked at him, thinking over and over in my head about how he could give death glares one moment and look at me as compassionately as he had the very next.
He was truly a man of many contradictions, and yet I wasn't weary of knowing more.
He put out the fire of the stove only to stop in front of me, while I still watched him.
"Is something wrong, Elinor?"
I instantly wanted to reply that there was. How could there not be?
When I wanted so badly to understand him, but every time I felt like I was close to fully understanding him, something else happened that made me question what I perceived.
