Page 78 of A Knight’s Vengeance

Elizabeth’s brooch.

Anticipating the ransom demand, Arthur ripped open the parchment and read the note. He crushed it into a ball.

“God’s blood,” he whispered. “Elizabeth.”

CHAPTER 15

Elizabeth thought the morning could get no worse... until Dominic brushed past the grim-faced guards and entered the kitchens.

He stopped as though slapped by an invisible hand, wrinkled his nose, and peered at her through the thick smoke around the wall of cooking fires. “What is that atrocious smell?”

“Smell?” Mildred chirped, looking up from a bubbling pot hung low over one of the fires. “Milady, do you note a smell?”

Scowling, Elizabeth leaned away from the chopping block. Dominic chuckled, and she shot him a warning glare. How dare he laugh? ’Twas not her fault her green bliaut was splattered with blood, sauces, and vegetable juices. Nor would she apologize for the state of her hair.

“It could be the chickens I burnt to a crisp on the spit,” she said, raising her hand and counting off options on her fingers. “Or the rotten cabbages I found in the pantry and took the initiative to throw away. Or mayhap ’tis the white sauce I scorched a moment ago when I simmered it over too high a flame. Why do you ask?”

Dominic’s gaze fell to the bunch of fresh herbs destined for the cutting board, then slid to the knife by her hand. “Just curious,” he said with a grin.

She huffed a breath. “Please take yourself and your curiosity elsewhere. We are busy.”

“Of course, milady.”

He executed a graceful bow, then strode away to speak to the guards blocking the door to the bailey.

As soon as his back was turned, Mildred joined Elizabeth at the cutting table and started breaking the sage leaves from the stems. “By the blessed Virgin.”

“When you suggested we brew sleeping potion,” Elizabeth said between her teeth, “you failed to warn me of the stench.”

“’Tis the valerian. I did not remember myself, for when I use the braziers in my workshop, I open all the doors to circulate the air.” Mildred gave a bright, toothy smile. “’Twas clever of you to burn the chickens to try and disguise the odor.”

“The hens scorched by accident, as well you know.” Elizabeth grabbed the knife, swept the herbs into the middle of the table, and chopped them with a vengeance, drawing a wary glance from Dominic and the guards.

Mildred touched her arm. “The accident was timely, then.”

Elizabeth grunted. Perspiration dripped down her nose. Over the knife’s rhythmic thud, she heard Mildred lift the lid of the copper pot, and the ladle clank against the side.

“’Tis done.”

A smile warmed Elizabeth’s lips. “Good. Now, if you will rinse the salted pork we left to soak earlier, we can cook it and set it on the platters.”

At last, the meal was ready. Elizabeth dried her clammy palms on a linen towel and forced herself to draw slow, even breaths. Soon she and Mildred would be free.

She was pouring a fresh white sauce, only a little scorched this time, into bowls when she heard Geoffrey’s clipped strides. Her pulse jittered. At the same time, a shameful ache reminded her of his body pressed against hers.

Did his tongue still taste of berries?

She shut her mind to the thoughts. She must focus on escape, not on what, in her silly dreams, might have come true.

Geoffrey came to an abrupt halt. He looked through the smoke to where she stood at the serving table, and threw up his hands. “What mischief have you been up to?”

She ignored a nervous tingle. “We prepared a meal, milord, as you asked.” With the edge of a cloth, she wiped drippings from the side of a bowl.

He set his hands on his hips. “What did you cook?”

“Salted pork with an herbed mustard sauce.”

His mouth flattened, and he strode around the cutting table to peer into the pots over the fires. “You created this amount of mess, not to mention the vile stench, to serve salted pork?” He sniffed the steam over the sleeping potion. “What is that?”