Chapter 23 Penny
Penny
Several days later, I sprawled on the rug of Kit’s cottage with my hands clasped behind my head and a tabby kitten asleep on my chest. Rosie had taken the couch where she nibbled on a puffed pastry and sipped the coffee I’d brewed.
There were six kittens in total, but Rosie brought only two, tucked in a basket and ferried from her house to ours. I’d meant for Kit to be here when she arrived so he could see how big they’d gotten, but he’d been caught late at the smithy. With any luck, he’d return soon.
“I had some pecans leftover from our trip to the orchard,” Rosie said. “Remember? It’s been a few months now.”
I hummed acknowledgment, thinking of the orchard, yes, but not of my visit with Rosie. I remembered more fondly the time I took Kit there and surprised him with a kiss.
“So, I ground them up and mixed them with sugar…” Rosie paused and gave a little cough to call my attention.
I turned to see her eyeing the brown paper package on the low table.
“You haven’t even looked at it.” She tipped her chin toward it. “I want your opinion before I put them in the shop.”
“I’m saving it to share with Kit,” I replied. “That way you can get his opinion too. He’s quite discerning.” I brushed my hand across the kitten’s fuzzy back. Its fur stood up in spikes along its spine like a jagged ridge that looked sharp but felt soft as feather down.
Rosie hummed a quiet sound. “Kit,” she murmured. “Of course.”
The second kitten, the solid black runt of the litter, tiptoed along the sofa behind her, stopping to nibble on hair that had worked loose from her braids.
My sketchbook lay open on the table with a pencil tucked in the spine.
I’d drawn a bit when Rosie first arrived, but took a break to play with the kittens by dragging around a piece of string I’d found in one of my bedroom dresser drawers.
But Rosie and the black cat made such a perfect image that I had to capture it.
I scooped the curled tabby from my chest and set her on the rug, then reached for my sketchbook.
Rosie picked at her pastry as I rolled onto my stomach and spread the book flat on the rug.
“Stay like that,” I told her, and flashed a smile she readily returned.
She smoothed her braids behind her ear and posed a bit less naturally than I would have liked, but I set to work anyway, putting down the broad strokes of an outline. While she sat, teasing the kitten to hold its interest, she spoke again.
“Penny? I’ve been meaning to ask you something. About Kit, actually.”
The front door swung inward, and Kit trudged through as timely as if he’d been summoned. He was sweaty and speckled with soot from the smithy, and I grinned at the residual black dust making lines on his forehead from the wrinkles he got when he concentrated on his work.
At Kit’s entry, the black kitten bounded off the sofa and raced across the floor as though stalking fresh prey. She pounced his boot first, scratching with needle-sharp claws before scampering up Kit’s pant leg and past his waist to his chest.
I turned and sat up, resting my sketchbook in my lap as I watched Kit scoop a hand under the kitten to aid her ascent to his shoulder, where she ducked into his coal-black curls. She wound around his neck, almost hidden except for her round yellow eyes peering out.
My cheeks warmed when I caught Kit’s soft smile.
“She looks a bit like you.” I gestured toward the cat. “A kitten for Violette’s Kitten.”
His exasperated look only lasted until the tiny cat bumped its head into his chin. He scratched between her ears, then scanned the room, stopping on Rosie posed on the couch, looking even less natural than before.
“I didn’t know we were expecting guests.” Kit nodded toward her. “Good evening, Rosie.”
Her mouth bent in a frown, and she wrung her hands in her lap. “Evening, Kit,” she replied, sounding strained. “Will you be staying long? I thought it would just be Penny and me…”
I cocked my head at her. “Why would he leave? It’s his house.”
The tabby I’d displaced roused and rubbed against my leg. I scrubbed my fingertips down her side, and she rolled over, teeth bared in a playful hiss as she batted at my hand.
Kit lifted the black kitten from her perch around his neck. “I was planning to wash up,” he began. “But I could go…” He walked forward to pass the cat to Rosie, then stopped. As he glanced from Rosie to me and back, his brow pinched and made the lines there look even darker.
He looked so pensive that I was about to ask what he was thinking when he said, “Penny, can I speak to you in the kitchen?”
With a bob of my head, I stood.
“Give us a moment, Rosie,” Kit said.
She continued frowning while Kit ushered me toward the adjoining room.
We made our way into the corner beside the cookstove, as far as we could get from the living area.
I turned to put my back to the wall and found Kit intimately close, smelling like smoke and iron and faintly of juniper.
I swallowed against the sudden lump in my throat as I searched his face and stern expression.
“Rosie brought pecan pastries,” I said in a small voice.
“And the kittens,” he replied. “I saw.”
“She wants us to taste them,” I added. “The pastries. Not the cats.”
Peering around him, I checked to see if I could sneak a kiss without Rosie noticing. The doorframe between us blocked her from my view and, presumably, me from hers, so I hooked my fingers over the waistband of Kit’s trousers and gave a playful tug.
Kit grabbed my hand and pulled it loose, then returned it to my side.
“How have things been with Rosie lately?” he whispered.
I frowned. “Same as always. Why?”
He glanced over his shoulder before continuing. “It might be nothing, but it seems… interesting that she wanted to spend time alone with you.”
I shrugged off his concern. “We’re alone at her house all the time. Well, except when Tessa comes by. Or if her father’s home.”
“Mmhmm.” Kit nodded. “It’s just… She sat very close to you at the tavern when we ran across her there. She's always eager to keep your company. And she gives you a certain look, Pen. Haven’t you noticed?”
I leaned again, farther over this time, straining to see into the living area. I caught a glimpse of Rosie sitting on the couch, holding the black cat on her lap while curling its tail around her finger.
“She looks like Rosie,” I said.
I was still staring when Kit concluded, “I think she may fancy you.”
That called my attention fully to him. “What makes you think that?” I asked.
“Because I think I look at you much the same way.”
A smile quirked Kit’s lips, and I felt warm all over again. I was so distracted by how endearing he looked that his statement registered belatedly.
“She’s like my sister, Kit,” I replied. “She reminds me of home.”
Kit’s expression softened, and he brushed a lock of hair off my forehead. “And I think she rather likes having you at her home. And ours. Alone.”
I thought back over my interactions with Rosie and certain comments her father had made.
Even things Tessa had said came clearer when viewed in a different light.
She’d called me Rosie’s beau at the tavern that night Kit said she sat so close to me.
I hadn’t thought much of it—I didn’t think much of anything Tessa said—but I felt suddenly abashed for not having considered it sooner.
“It’s not so hard to believe, is it?” Kit asked, still speaking softly. “I can’t be the only one who enjoys having you to myself. And you do spend a good deal of time with her. What else is a young lady to infer?”
“I don’t know,” I muttered.
When I looked up, Kit was studying my face. “Perhaps you could imagine what a man might infer if he were invited to your house alone then.” He smirked. “Kittens notwithstanding.”
I didn’t want to imagine what any man might think or presume; I wanted to know something much more specific.
“What would you infer?” I asked.
Kit didn’t hesitate. “That you were trying to court me.”
The heat in my cheeks grew almost unbearable. He was so close, pressing in with his arm braced against the wall beside me.
I couldn’t look away again, so I held his gaze. “We’re in this house alone,” I murmured. “All the time.”
Kit huffed a laugh. “Then I suppose I should ask your mother about that dowry your sister mentioned. How many cows did she decide on?” He stroked his chin in mock contemplation while I stood, aghast.
“You heard that?” I squeaked.
“Those walls were thin,” he replied. “I heard everything.”
My shoulders crept up, and I wished I could shrivel inside my shirt. “I’m sorry…”
Kit put his arm around my waist and hooked his fingers onto my hip bone. “I didn’t mind,” he said.
I eased into him, running both hands up his sides. When he tipped his head toward mine, I stretched up to meet him. Our lips had barely touched when I heard a gasp from across the kitchen.
I pulled back, and Kit whirled around to the doorway where Rosie gawked with wide brown eyes. She said nothing, but the abrupt flap of her hands followed by her rapid retreat spoke volumes.
Kit raced after her while I stood stunned. By the time I made it to the living area, Rosie was flurrying about. The handled basket hung from her arm as she stooped and collected the tabby kitten and stuffed her inside.
Kit came alongside her. When he reached toward her, she stood bolt upright and glowered at him.
“He’s just your recruit, Mister Koesters?” she snapped. The moisture gleaming in her eyes filled me with guilt.
Kit winced at the use of the formal name. “Please, call me Kit…”
Sidestepping him, Rosie collected the black kitten and tucked her into the basket alongside the other.
“You could have told me the truth,” Rosie said to Kit, then aimed her ire at me. “Either of you could have. It would’ve been kinder.”
Kit moved into her line of sight, blocking me from her view. “Penny is my recruit,” he said, his body tense. “But yes, he is more than that. If I had known you were interested in him, I would have told you—”