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I watch after him, the door just barely closing behind him before I leap to my feet to chase after him.
Without bothering to knock this time, I push my way into the kitchen behind him, only to stop abruptly as I glance about the room.
I've walked straight into pure chaos, it would seem.
Pots and pans are piled in haphazard towers, flour and batter coat nearly every surface, and dirty plates are strewn about the floor. He would have had to have been toiling in here for hours to make this kind of mess, if not all night.
His back is to me as I take a deep breath and cautiously move further into the kitchen. I run my hand over a copper pan and then peer into the pantry. It's stocked full of ingredients that I could have only dreamed of having before.
"Perhaps you might allow me to make us something this morning?" I ask, turning away from the pantry. "It seems only fair after all that I find some way to repay you for opening your home to me."
"No."
My heart sinks slightly at his refusal.
"I'm an excellent cook," I try again. "My mother taught me before she fell ill, and I've enjoyed it ever since."
"No," he says again, his voice sharper. "It is my job as your host."
"Be that as it may, I would like the chance to familiarize myself with this place, if I'm to live here. Besides, I'm telling you that I want to cook," I say, frowning at his back, before adding, "I am your guest after all, am I not?"
He slowly turns toward me, and I wish I could see his face. That I could read whatever emotions are flickering across it as he watches me. Through the holes in his mask, his onyx eyes remain cold and unnerving as they stare into my very depths. But as the shadows rise and fall around him, settling into calm waves at his feet, I get the sense that I shouldn't rely on his eyes to tell me what he's thinking.
"Very well," he says with a sigh, gesturing toward the surrounding mess. "The kitchen is yours."
I give him a bright smile.
"Thank you, now, go sit over there," I say, pointing to a stool in the far corner of the room, before quickly turning back to the pantry before he can see the widening of my eyes. I hurry to make myself busy, hardly believing I just told him what to do in his own house.
Grabbing several large brown eggs from a shelf, I reach to pluck from the drying herbs above, smiling as their earthy fragrance colors the air around me.
Satisfied with my selection, I step from the pantry with a smile on my face. I pretend not to notice that he's perched on the stool I'd pointed to, but I can feel his eyes on me as I work.
Weaving my way through the mess he created, I do my best to tidy as I go. I've never been in a kitchen this well-stocked, let alone so sophisticated, and I rather enjoy the process of familiarizing myself with everything.
Setting the copper pan on the stove, I crack the eggs into it before turning to collect an odd assortment of dishes and placing them in the sink while I wait.
His eyes never leave me as I move about his kitchen, humming softly under my breath to keep my nerves at bay.
It isn't long before some order has been restored, and I can breathe a little easier. Once the eggs begin to sizzle, the smell of herbs filling the kitchen, my shoulders finally relax.
Plating the eggs, I take a deep breath before walking toward my host.
"Here," I say, setting one plate in front of him. "Try this."
I perch on a stool next to him as I turn to face him, balancing my own plate on my knees. It's unladylike, I know, and I'm sure Merelda would have a half dozen choice words for me if she could see me now, but I don't care.
Tasting my own eggs, I savor the bite before peeking up at him. He's staring down at his own plate as if unsure whether or not to trust it. Slowly, he reaches for the fork, and I have to bite back a chuckle as he warily pokes at the food.
He's hesitant as he picks some of the egg up with his fork, and I realize I've stopped eating to watch. My eyes are glued to the fork as it makes its way toward his face.
For one thrilling moment, I think he's about to remove his mask, but he simply turns and slips the fork beneath it.
"Hmm."
"I know it's simple food," I start just as his dark eyes meet mine and I find myself lost for words. As he chews, I almost swear I see his eyes brighten and the shadows clinging to him sway, as if dancing. I feel my cheeks flood with warmth at the thought and quickly drop my gaze back to my plate.
"This is by far the best thing I have tasted in ... Well, since I came to reside here. Perhaps even before then."
