gulped. They’d drunk half the jug when Jissa wiped off her milk moustache and said, “Bard would like this, I think. Yes, I think.”
“So would His Lordship.”
“Liliana.”
Laughing, Liliana poured two more glasses. “Here, you go take it to them. If he asks where I am, tell him I’m slaving over his damn lushberry pie.” It was dark outside, time for sleep, but he wanted his pie.
“So impertinent. Trouble, you are, trouble.” Shaking her head, Jissa pushed through the door with the glasses.
A tiny chittering sound came right on cue. Liliana turned, put her finger to her lips. “Shh. You’re not supposed to be in the kitchen.”
Her little friend sat up on his hind legs and made the most arresting face—as if saying that he was a very clean creature, thank you very much. “Well, of course you are,” she said in apology. “I’ve seen your fastidious ways.” Liliana didn’t find that as strange as she should have—the mouse had magic of its own. A tiny magic, but magic all the same.
“Lushberries are not something you’d like,” she said, and, when his face fell, picked up the tiny but perfect pastry crust she’d baked the same time she’d done the large one. “Here, my friend. Now shoo before Jissa catches you.”
Nose twitching with excitement, the mouse—its bonesno longer so sharp against its skin—dragged away its spoils as she washed her hands and returned to mix a rich sweet cheese with the pulp before pouring it into the pastry. That done, all she had to do was put it into the oven for but a quarter hour. She took the time to whip up the cream, since His Lordship had decreed he’d eat the pie the instant it left the oven.
When the door opened, the caress of lushberries lay heavy and mouth-watering in the air. “Jissa, I think the pie will be—” It registered then, the scent that had come in with the opening of the door.
Darkness and heat and something quintessentially male .
Keeping her eyes resolutely on the cream, she said, “You’re in my domain now.”
Instead of arguing as she’d expected, he walked to the oven, made as if to open it. “Stop!” she ordered. “If you open it now, you’ll let out all the heat.”
Growling low in his throat, he came over to stand beside her at the counter, staring at the cream. She knew what he wanted even before he tried to dip a finger into it. Scooting away the dish, she shot him a scowl. “If you don’t behave, I’ll put salt in your pie.”
He shifted closer, went for the cream again.
Glaring, she jerked it away once more.
He stepped over.
She looked up, intending to tell him to stop it when she was caught by the laughter in his eyes. He was teasing her again. That knowledge turned her a little mad, mad enough to lift the whisk and touch it to the tip of his nose. “There.”
He blinked, raised his finger to his nose and wiped off the cream. No jagged black tips, she thought in shock—his hands were bare of any trace of armor below thewrists. Then he licked the cream off his finger, and suddenly, the game wasn’t a game anymore, her thoughts scattering like so many marbles across a floor.
Forcing her head back to the bowl, she began to whisk with all her strength. Maybe that was why she didn’t notice him move, why she didn’t realize he’d trapped her with his gauntleted arms on either side of hers until his hands came over hers, one on the edge of the bowl to hold it in place, the other closing around the hand that held the whisk.
She should’ve protested, should’ve pushed back, but she continued to whisk even as his body imprinted itself on her own. The sensation was indescribable. No man had ever touched her thus, had ever wanted to touch her thus.
Her heart grew heavy at the reminder that the Lord of the Black Castle had been trapped here his entire life. He didn’t understand that there were women of stunning elegance and grace who would beg to come to his bed once he reclaimed his place as a prince
“So would His Lordship.”
“Liliana.”
Laughing, Liliana poured two more glasses. “Here, you go take it to them. If he asks where I am, tell him I’m slaving over his damn lushberry pie.” It was dark outside, time for sleep, but he wanted his pie.
“So impertinent. Trouble, you are, trouble.” Shaking her head, Jissa pushed through the door with the glasses.
A tiny chittering sound came right on cue. Liliana turned, put her finger to her lips. “Shh. You’re not supposed to be in the kitchen.”
Her little friend sat up on his hind legs and made the most arresting face—as if saying that he was a very clean creature, thank you very much. “Well, of course you are,” she said in apology. “I’ve seen your fastidious ways.” Liliana didn’t find that as strange as she should have—the mouse had magic of its own. A tiny magic, but magic all the same.
“Lushberries are not something you’d like,” she said, and, when his face fell, picked up the tiny but perfect pastry crust she’d baked the same time she’d done the large one. “Here, my friend. Now shoo before Jissa catches you.”
Nose twitching with excitement, the mouse—its bonesno longer so sharp against its skin—dragged away its spoils as she washed her hands and returned to mix a rich sweet cheese with the pulp before pouring it into the pastry. That done, all she had to do was put it into the oven for but a quarter hour. She took the time to whip up the cream, since His Lordship had decreed he’d eat the pie the instant it left the oven.
When the door opened, the caress of lushberries lay heavy and mouth-watering in the air. “Jissa, I think the pie will be—” It registered then, the scent that had come in with the opening of the door.
Darkness and heat and something quintessentially male .
Keeping her eyes resolutely on the cream, she said, “You’re in my domain now.”
Instead of arguing as she’d expected, he walked to the oven, made as if to open it. “Stop!” she ordered. “If you open it now, you’ll let out all the heat.”
Growling low in his throat, he came over to stand beside her at the counter, staring at the cream. She knew what he wanted even before he tried to dip a finger into it. Scooting away the dish, she shot him a scowl. “If you don’t behave, I’ll put salt in your pie.”
He shifted closer, went for the cream again.
Glaring, she jerked it away once more.
He stepped over.
She looked up, intending to tell him to stop it when she was caught by the laughter in his eyes. He was teasing her again. That knowledge turned her a little mad, mad enough to lift the whisk and touch it to the tip of his nose. “There.”
He blinked, raised his finger to his nose and wiped off the cream. No jagged black tips, she thought in shock—his hands were bare of any trace of armor below thewrists. Then he licked the cream off his finger, and suddenly, the game wasn’t a game anymore, her thoughts scattering like so many marbles across a floor.
Forcing her head back to the bowl, she began to whisk with all her strength. Maybe that was why she didn’t notice him move, why she didn’t realize he’d trapped her with his gauntleted arms on either side of hers until his hands came over hers, one on the edge of the bowl to hold it in place, the other closing around the hand that held the whisk.
She should’ve protested, should’ve pushed back, but she continued to whisk even as his body imprinted itself on her own. The sensation was indescribable. No man had ever touched her thus, had ever wanted to touch her thus.
Her heart grew heavy at the reminder that the Lord of the Black Castle had been trapped here his entire life. He didn’t understand that there were women of stunning elegance and grace who would beg to come to his bed once he reclaimed his place as a prince
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