"You," he said again. He did not regret saying it, only the time that it took him to realize the truth of it. Somewhere between his reawakening in her cottage and her kidnapping, without him being fully, consciously aware of it, Errol had begun to see Beauty as more than a friend. More than just someone that he would be pleased to see if she happened to be at the store on the same day as him; he actively looked forward to seeing her there. He found himself wondering at what she would say or think about this sight or that passage in a book, and more than that, looking forward to bringing it to her attention.
Somewhere between his thoughts and his mouth, the words seemed to stick, so that all he could do was look at her, holding her and hoping that she could feel them somehow transmitted through his eyes and his touch. For all that he read the beautiful words of others, he had never quite mastered the art of getting those words out of himself in more than a few drips and drabs, even here. He tried, though.
"This is a kinder world," he said. "And it's given me hope. That if I find something good in the world, I might be able to keep it. To keep you." He dropped his gaze, realizing how that sounded. "Not that you're a possession."