CHAPTER 1 - PENNY
The potatoes roasting in the oven made the whole cottage smell of thyme and rosemary.
I’d hoped the aromas would rouse Kit from sleep because I’d been waiting for over an hour and had run out of ways to occupy my time.
I started a fire in the hearth, brewed coffee, fried eggs, and peeked into our bedroom on four separate occasions to see Kit nestled under the blankets so warm and peaceful I couldn’t bear to disturb him.
He rarely slept in, and I rarely woke early for reasons that were painfully clear now. The quiet house was lonely, not to mention boring, and I had little tolerance for either of those things.
Sitting at the kitchen table, I heaved a noisy sigh for the sole excuse of breaking the silence that had settled over the house.
The breakfast tray before me was set with the plate and flatware and a tin mug of coffee, but it looked a bit lonely without a sprig of flowers or a small bud in a vase.
Unfortunately, nothing sprouted from the frozen ground of Ashpoint this time of year, and I doubted the herbalist grew anything ornamental in his greenhouse.
Considering that I’d been the reason Kit threatened him at knifepoint a few weeks before, he wouldn’t have given me anything even if he did.
I’d long grown weary of winter with its drab gray skies and perpetual chill.
Sunnier months were ahead, promising new color and life and a long-awaited return to Eastcliff.
To my farm and my mother and sister. This journey home would be all the sweeter because Kit would be on my arm as my beau. My darling.
The potatoes grew more aromatic by the moment until they were done enough to justify rousing Kit from his slumber.
I went to the stove to dish up a hearty serving of eggs and potatoes.
I still had my apron on when I ferried the tray down the hall toward the bedroom.
Bumping the door open with my hip, I stepped into the dark room and padded over to the bedside where Kit’s head barely poked out of a pile of blankets.
The kittens had slept in as well and were tangled in a ball at the foot of the bed.
It was unusual for Nutmeg not to be underfoot anytime I was in the kitchen.
But Ember went wherever Kit did, a fuzzy black shadow dogging his steps or perching on his shoulders.
It was a miracle she hadn’t managed to stow away in his cloak on one of our trips out of the house by now.
I set the tray on the bedside table, then bent over and kissed Kit’s stubbled cheek.
“Morning, darling,” I murmured.
He grunted and stirred, dark eyes opening to slits. His mumbled response was more sound than words, and I snickered.
As he came to awareness, his gaze panned over to the meal raising curls of steam into the chilly air. “You cooked,” he said. He pushed the covers away and worked his way to sitting. The surprise on his face prompted me to protest.
“I always cook.”
Kit snorted. “Dinner, not breakfast.”
He looked toward the window on the far wall where golden sunlight streamed in. Dawn had broken not long before, and he was due in the forge that morning. If not for that, I might have crawled back into bed and dozed with him till the afternoon.
“What time is it?” he asked.
“Early enough.” I brushed mussed curls back from his temple, and he leaned into the touch, wide awake now with his eyes sharp and his full lips curving a smile.
He reached out and hooked his hand around my side, bare above the waistband of my linen pants. The apron covered only the center of my chest, leaving plenty of exposed skin for Kit to trail his fingers over. When he snagged the string cinched above my hips and gave a tug, warmth pooled in my groin.
“Early enough,” I repeated slowly while untying the apron and tugging it over my head, “that we could enjoy ourselves for a bit.”
Kit gave me a teasingly scornful look as I pulled the blankets back and slid in beside him, reaching straight to his crotch and the hardness I expected to find there.
Working my way on top of him, I cupped him through his pants while I kissed his exposed neck and shoulders. He hummed a soft sound, followed by a chuckle.
“And here I thought I might get to eat my food while it’s warm for a change.”
“Mmm,” I murmured against his skin. “Oven’s still hot. I’ll put it back in when we’re done.”
He kept his grip on my side, fingertips pressing in between my ribs in a way that made me sigh. His other hand traveled lower, then around to squeeze my backside. I jumped, and Kit grinned.
“Is this what it takes to get you up before the sun, farm boy?” he asked.
Blush burned my cheeks as I dove into him again, kissing and sucking at the tender spots on his throat until he moaned.
I kicked the rumpled sheets fully aside, exposing us both to the chilled air. The kittens bounded off the bed and fled the room with the skitter of claws.
I turned to watch them go with a smirk. “That’s a relief. Didn’t want to take you with the kids watching.”
Kit laughed and arched up into me, cradling the back of my neck so he could draw me into a lingering kiss. When we pulled apart, I was flushed and breathless, made even more so by the flash of desire in Kit’s dark eyes.
“Better close the door, then,” he said. “Else they may come back and interrupt.”
I didn’t bother telling him that getting pounced by a pair of hairballs wouldn’t stop me from ravishing him that morning or any other. I simply scrambled off the bed myself and flung the door shut with such haste Kit laughed again until I dove back onto the mattress and silenced him with a kiss.
Breakfast was fully cold by the time we finished up, and the oven had scant heat left to offer, so Kit ate his breakfast lukewarm. He didn’t complain, having been quite satisfied in other ways that left him cheerful all the way through his departure for the smithy.
I told him I would be along shortly, but I had a stop to make on the way.
Almost two weeks had passed since the third Oath and the gruesome ritual that followed.
I hadn’t seen Rosie since she’d been covered in Tessa’s blood outside the Ossuary, and I missed her company.
I also worried she was still upset about her affections for me being unconsciously rebuffed.
It all seemed rather apparent in hindsight, and I never meant to hurt her.
I’d made a few hand pies the night before to bring as an excuse to call on her. They were folded inside a cloth napkin and stowed in the leather satchel that bounced against my thigh with every step.
Arriving on Rosie’s doorstep, I knocked, then waited. Not two weeks before, I was so accustomed to coming here that I would have let myself in. The loss of that sense of welcomeness sobered my mood.
I didn’t have to wait long before the door swung inward. Rosie stood in the frame with her hair in rows of braids and Ember and Nutmeg’s mother cat tucked under her arm. Her brows arched in momentary surprise before she eased into a smile.
“Hello, Penny.”
Prickly feelings almost like the homesickness I felt when I thought of the farm swept over me, and I stepped forward to wrap Rosie in a hug. She squeaked in surprise but, when I pulled back, she was grinning wide.
“May I…?” I tipped my head to the interior of the cottage behind her.
Nodding, she moved aside and beckoned me in.
I stood on the living room rug while Rosie released the cat and headed to the kitchen for cups of tea. The quiet felt strained, and I hesitated to speak until she’d returned and urged me to sit with her on the couch.
Even then, I wrung my hands in my lap, unsure where to begin with days stretching like years between us. So much had happened. So much had changed.
Rosie took her teacup from the low table in front of the sofa and sipped from it. “How are the kittens?”
“Good!” I replied quickly. “Troublesome, but I like a bit of chaos. They certainly make the house lively.”
She nodded, and I found myself searching her face for signs of hurt or anger. She seemed amiable enough. Normal, even.
“Kit is quite taken with his,” I added. “We’ve named her Ember. Her eyes get more yellow by the day, you know. Like the glow of the coals in the forge.”
Rosie’s lips pressed a tight smile. “And yours?”
“Nutmeg.”
She nodded and took another drink of tea. “Both good names.”
Silence swelled again.
I shifted and scuffed my boots against the floorboards, then recalled the treats nestled in my bag. “Ah!” I exclaimed, flipping back the flap top of my satchel and pulling out the pies.
Unfolding the napkin, I offered them to her, feeling a niggling sense of pride at the neatly crimped edges and smooth, glossy tops.
“I used an egg wash for the shine,” I explained, then added. “They’re blackberry.”
Rosie took one for a bite. The flaky pastry sent crumbles down the front of her gingham dress. She smiled as she dusted the crumbs off onto the floor.
“Exceptional,” she said, then leaned forward and set the rest of the pie on the saucer beneath her teacup.
I leaned forward and laid the rest of the pies on the table as well, then closed my satchel and gave it a pat. Rosie’s attention traveled toward it.
“Is that a new bag?” she asked.
I nodded, then swung it around into my lap. “The strap is a bit long, and I’d like to add a buckle here…” I gestured to various places where my craftsmanship had been lacking, flaws Kit had assured me no one else would notice.
Rosie crowded in and smoothed her hand across the leather. “You made it?”
“I had to. Needed a way to carry this.” Opening it again, I pulled out the sketchbook Kit gave me.
The ornate design on the cover still gave me pause, and I smiled to think of Kit sneaking around working on it then sending it off to be bound.
It was, without a doubt, the nicest gift I’d ever received.
“Oh, that’s lovely.” Rosie looked appropriately impressed as she added, “Much bigger than your old one.”
I must have been beaming because my cheeks were starting to ache. “Kit had it made for me,” I said. I turned the pages, showing the few sketches I’d started and commenting on the smoothness of the paper until I noticed her wistful expression.
“Rosie?” I prompted.
Her brown eyes fixed on mine. “He’s a good man,” she said. “Kit is.”
I nodded, unsure of what to say while realizing I may have already said too much about what had become a sensitive subject.
There was a long pause as I closed the sketchbook and tucked it away. Rosie nursed her tea until I worked up the nerve to speak again.
“I truly am sorry about Tessa.”
Rosie sniffed into her cup. “It’s a sort of relief. I didn’t care for her much myself near the end. She changed as we got older, and not for the better. But… I feel bad for being glad she’s gone.”
I raised my shoulders in a shrug. “She was a bit awful.”
“Penny!” She gasped and slapped my arm, but her scorn was overcome by a bout of laughter.
Soon, we were both giggling. “You were ready to fight her off with that silly knife.” She gestured to the dagger sheathed on my belt as she continued in a teasing voice, “Defending Kit’s honor like a proper gentleman.
Gods, I was blind. You’re so smitten with him. ”
Blush stung my face, and I rubbed my hand over my cheeks. “We’re courting now.” The admission tumbled out.
Rosie sat back, wide-eyed. “Are you really?”
I nodded. It felt good to say. For all the secrets Kit and I were forced to keep, it was a relief to spoil this one.
“When did he ask you?” Rosie inquired.
“I asked him. After the third Oath.”
And I was still wrapping my mind around the fact that he said yes. For all of Kit’s uncertainty about love and relationships, he seemed very certain of us, and I’d never been more sure of anything.
“Well, then. Congratulations.” She looked proud, and I hoped Sayla would be equally so when I told her.
There was more to tell, but it could wait. I didn’t mean to make this about myself or even Kit. Hard as that was.
I squirmed a bit, settling to tuck my hands under my thighs to hold myself still. “I’ve missed baking with you,” I said at length. “I’ve missed you in general.”
Rosie sighed, then reached across to pat my knee. “I’ve missed you, too,” she said, then chuckled. “So has my father. He seems to think we’ve adopted you.”
Peering over at her, I cracked a grin. “You could.”
She shook her head. “And steal you away from Kit? I wouldn’t dare.”
The tension eased, and I felt myself relaxing, muscles unknotting. “So, can we do lessons again?” I asked.
“They haven’t been lessons for some time, Penny.” Rosie referenced the blackberry pies spread on the table. “You already knew plenty when we met. Thank your mother and sister for that. I just enjoyed spending time with you.”
The reminder of the pies prompted me to grab one and take a bite. Flakes of pastry dusted the front of my shirt, and Rosie snickered before wiping them away.
“Also,” she added, “if we’re going to keep it up, I may need to start paying you for your help.”
“You don’t have to—”
She ticked her finger at me. “You have a beau now. That comes with expectations.”
I nodded and returned the pie to its place on the table as Rosie took on the air of a teacher ready to instruct.
“If you intend to court Kit properly,” she said, “you’ll need a bit of money. Rather than spending his.” Before I could protest or even acknowledge she was right, Rosie carried on. “There should be gifts and occasions… Do you know his favorite color? Food? Flower?”
I chewed my lip. “I wanted to give him flowers this morning, but there aren’t any.”
She flapped her hand toward my satchel. “Make a list in that fine journal of yours. Learn everything you can to spoil the man silly. He won’t be able to resist you.”
I’d thought of it, of course, long before I met Kit. When I was younger, I resolved to be an ideal suitor and, eventually, an ideal husband. Courtship was the start of that, and I was determined to do it right.
Rosie looked like she had more to say, more ideas for how to ensnare Kit so thoroughly he’d be tethered to me forever, but I spoke first.
“Thank you,” I said.
She blinked, stalled in her thoughts until she asked, “For what?”
“Being my friend.” My lips quirked a sheepish smile. “You’re quite dear to me, I hope you know that.”
Her eyes sparkled. “And you to me. Now, open that book, and let’s get started.”