I craned my neck to look up and found him frowning. “I should rest,” I explained, “for all the standing I’ll soon be doing in the kitchen.”
Kit gave an exaggerated nod and began pushing again. “Of course. Hard work, all that mixing and sifting.”
With a sigh, I reclined onto his chest. “Rosie makes me doallthe mixing. And the kneading. Especially with the stiff doughs.” I lolled my head back to study a cluster of low-hung clouds. “Soon, I’ll have muscles like yours just from turning a spoon round and round.”
His chuckle rumbled against my back. “You think so?”
I reached over to grab my bicep and give it a testing squeeze. “Perhaps it’s already begun.”
Kit laughed again, and we bumped along, coming around the corner into the view of our cottage. Rosie waited on the stoop with a basket hooked over her arm. She waved, and I bounded off the cart and rushed ahead to greet her.
After a quick hug, I lifted the corner of the kerchief covering her basket.
“What are we making?” I asked.
“He’s been anxious to get back to it,” Kit said as he drew up behind me. “I’m a bit relieved myself. Better for all the sweets he’s made to go to your shop than my stomach.” He rolled the wheelbarrow to a stop and dusted his hands down his trousers.
I smirked at him over my shoulder. “You like them, Kit.”
He nodded. “Too much.”
Rosie giggled as he walked forward and reached into the pocket of the leather apron he’d worn since we left the smithy. He pulled out a small dagger tucked into a sheath I’d stitched together that morning and extended it toward her.
“For your protection,” he said.
She hesitated, scanning over the weapon with a small amount of trepidation. I knew she and Kit had spoken after he’d gotten the word about Merrick’s poison plot, and after we found out she would be with Otis for the remainder of the Oaths. Since he was implicated in the attempted murder as well, he had been added to the growing list of people in Ashpoint we could not trust.
After a moment, she took the knife and tucked it in the pocket of her trousers. “Thank you.”
“Don’t go showing it around,” I quipped. “Merrick may accuse you of helping us stage a coup.”
“Pen…” Kit shook his head.
Rosie’s forehead scrunched. “What?”
“Nothing,” I told her.
With a cartful of deliveries, I expected Kit to leave us. Instead, he ventured past and opened the door to usher Rosie and me inside.
“What about your orders?” I asked as I stepped over the threshold into the cottage.
“I’m actually expecting an order of my own,” he replied.
Rosie went into the kitchen and began unloading her basket while I waited by the door with Kit. He had a mischievous glint to his eyes as he took up a post in the doorframe and gazed at the path outside.
I stepped into his side, mostly shadowed in the home’s interior, and tipped my head against his shoulder. He hooked his arm low around my waist, and we watched the empty neighborhood street for several quiet moments.
Finally, I bumped my elbow into his ribs. “You’re up to something, Mister Mosel.”
Kit hummed but gave no reply.
I was ready to press him again when the local carpenter crested the hill carrying a burlap bag. Kit broke free of me andwent to his cart, rifling through it to pull out a paper wrapped set of chisels I’d seen him sharpening the day before.
He met the carpenter a ways down the lane, exchanging pleasantries and swapping her bag for the chisels.
“Penny, are you ready?” Rosie called from the kitchen.
“In a minute,” I told her.
