Page 76 of A Knight’s Vengeance

“Naught is as loathsome to me as working as a scullery maid”—she wriggled in his grasp—“except lying with you.”

He chuckled.

“I do not lie,” she said sharply.

He lifted one hand and trailed his finger along her jaw. His expression shadowed with suspicion. “Why would you make a point of telling me what you hate?”

Her pulse raced like a frantic bird’s. If she did not convince him, she lost her and Mildred’s chance at freedom.

“Why?” Pulling away from his touch, she forced a taunting laugh. “You would not give me a duty so far beneath my station.”

“Do not try and trick me, damsel. Do you scheme some kind of plot that requires use of the kitchens, or even plan an escape?”

She fought a stunned gasp. Oh, God, she must not betray herself.

Casting him a frosty, resentful stare, she said, “Escape seems to be impossible.” She paused for dramatic effect and smiled. “Yet, your misplaced suspicion makes me wonder, milord, if you doubt your ability to keep me prisoner?”

He studied her face a long moment, before he grinned and released his hold upon her. “You will never escape me, and I fear you misjudged me. Tomorrow, you will toil in the kitchens. You and Mildred will prepare the midday and evening meals for the entire keep. I warn you, damsel. The food must be palatable, or you will be sorry.”

Mildred dug the spade into the herb patch, wiped dirt from her nose, and beamed. Her tone hushed, she said, “Milady, you work miracles. However did you convince the rogue?”

Kneeling before a crumbling rockery bed, Elizabeth shrugged and kept her blushing face from the matron’s view. “I challenged him. He reacted as I thought he would.” A giggle bubbled in her throat. “You should have seen his expression when he ordered us to do scullery work.”

“Pah! You will not laugh like a naughty child when we must make the meals.” Mildred plodded closer. “If I may be so bold, how much cooking have you done?”

Elizabeth uprooted a blooming dandelion. “None.”

“As I should have expected.” Mildred sounded a little concerned.

With careful fingers, Elizabeth nudged aside a spider scuttling up her skirt. “I have helped Fraeda order wine and spices and watched her cook on occasion, but I have not lifted a cauldron, boiled pottage, or chopped onions for stew. Nor, as the lord’s daughter, did I expect to.”

Mildred sank onto the turned earth and dropped her face into her hands. “We are destined for disaster.”

The fine hairs at Elizabeth’s nape prickled. “You have cooked before, have you not?”

The matron mopped her brow with her sleeve. “Many years ago, when I was married. Long before I entered the nunnery and learned the ways of herbs and tonics. Long, long before your father rescued me from those infernal hours of prayer and asked me to be your mother’s lady-in-waiting.”

Elizabeth blew a relieved sigh. “Thank goodness.”

“I cooked for two, milady,” the matron pointed out, “not an entire keep.”

“The principles are the same, are they not?” Elizabeth tossed another dandelion onto the huge pile of weeds. “What one does to one quail, one does to fifty.”

Mildred clutched at her head. She looked about to faint.

“Why do you look so distraught?”

The matron’s throat moved on a loud swallow. “The process is a little more… ah… complex than you make it sound.”

“How so?”

“The quail, if that is what we are to prepare, must be plucked. They must be cleaned, trussed, and… and then there is the matter of the fire. The meat cannot sit too near the flame. It must also be basted with fat as it cooks so it does not dry out and become tough and flavorless.”

With a loud snort, Elizabeth flicked her braid back over her shoulder. “The rogue cannot fault us for that. We have been eating leather for days.”

Mildred’s sigh ended with a groan. “I am afraid my skills do not extend much beyond salted pork and roasted chicken.”

“Then we will serve pork and chicken.”