A Beast Sees No Beauty

Chapter Six

July began soon as well as multiple creative insults. Juliet and Vincent were explosive towards one another, constantly at each other's throats with words as sharp as daggers. Though they never showed any hostility except through words, many of the workers around the plantation heard their exchanges, and at times made bets on who would win which battle.

Of course, the point was to win the war, not every battle. Vincent wanted the girl gone. He wanted his money. He wanted her brother-in-law to pay for the debt. Juliet wanted to prove herself. She wanted to prove that she wasn't just a stupid Southerner without any ambition. 

And so, after two weeks of having no solace in his home, Vincent left the building to work in the fields. It wasn't common for him, sure, but it was something he did every time he had too much on his mind. Fieldwork was easy - any fool with half a brain could figure out what to do.

The field hands didn't seem to mind the extra help, though they tried to keep his load light. Vincent hated how they treated him like a pansy, so he would take on all the extra work. Soon, he was exhausted from all the hard labor he forced on himself, but he would not take a break for even a moment. He had work to do and a mind to clear.

The sun beat down on Vincent as he helped haul a bale of hay, taking as much of the weight as he possibly could. Even then as he suffered, he could see Juliet scolding him for overworking himself in the hot sun. He could hear himself call her a pampered brat, quickly followed by her retort.

His head pounded, but he didn't dare take a break. He wasn't sweating as much as he was before, which he considered a good thing. Despite his arms cramping, he continued his work until one of the house workers collected him for dinner as the sun dropped down in the sky.

He entered the home right as the twilight began to darken the atmosphere, ready to eat a meal and relax after a day of hard labor. He could already smell the meal that had been prepared, making his mouth water in anticipation. The cooks must have outdone themselves for his sake.

"I'll deal with the papers later. If you need me, I'll be in the dining room." The man nodded his head, ducking out of the hallway and away from the Master of the house. No one wanted to be around him for too long.

Juliet was surprised to see Vincent enter the room in such a frazzled state. His face was red, yet his clothes showed no signs of sweat. It didn't look like he had been outside, except for the pieces of cotton still tucked in his hair.

"Were you in the fields today?" Vincent hardly lifted his head at her, and instead focused on getting to his seat. His head was still throbbing. It was starting to make him feel dizzy now.

"The fields?" He paused once he reached his seat before slowly descending into its comforts. He took a moment to gather his thoughts before nodding. "Yes, yes I was."

The wine was poured once he was seated. The dark-haired man gulped it all down, hoping it would ease his suffering, but it did nothing.

"Why were you in the fields?" Juliet couldn't help but question the man.  He piqued her curiosity, something that was rare for her. Besides, they were having a normal conversation for once.

"Why was I where?" Vincent blanked out, scratching the back of his head as he stared into his empty glass. "Where did the wine go?"

Juliet was out of her seat the next moment, hastily crossing the room. Without a second thought, she kneeled next to his chair and gently took his hand in her own. He was acting odd. He must have overworked himself like a fool.

"Does your head hurt by any chance?" Vincent managed to nod, his gaze falling to their connected hands. For the slightest of moments, he found comfort and solace, until he saw the one major difference that set them apart.