“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 and flung the door shut with such haste that 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 rebuffed. It all seemed rather apparent in hindsight, but I never meant to hurt her.
I’d made a few hand pies the night before 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 braids and Ember andNutmeg’s mother cat tucked under her arm. Her brows arched in 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 wore a wide grin.
“May I…?” I tipped my head to 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. Like 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. I flipped back the flap top of my satchel and pulled 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.
“They’re blackberry,” I added.
Rosie took one for a bite, sending bits of flaky pastry tumbling down the front of her gingham dress. Her face lit up.
“Exceptional.” She leaned forward and set the rest of the pie on the saucer beneath her teacup.
I laid the rest of them on the table, then closed my satchel and gave it a pat. Rosie’s attention traveled to it.
“Is that a new bag?” she asked.
I nodded and 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?”
