Page 49 of An Ill-Made Match

Seth, thought Eden. Castor, Parnell, Hector and Seth. That just left two she did not know the names of. The ginger dog who looked like an overgrown fox and the grey one who looked rather like a gargoyle.

Just then they heard footsteps on the stairs and both turned to look as Cuthbert sauntered down the steps. “I’m half starved, anything worth eating?” he greeted them.

Roland shrugged. “There’s eggs, if nothing else. Where’s Fulco?”

“He showed me the stables and disappeared.”

“Damn,” swore Roland. “I’d better go in search of him. Will you stay here with Cuthbert?”

Eden frowned at him. “If that’s what you want,” she said sounding annoyed. Why did he keep trying to shake her off? A smile seemed to tug at his lips a moment, and she wished she had not said it. He was conceited enough to think she craved his company, and she had not meant to give that impression in the slightest.

“I only mean to get a fire lit and make things comfortable for you as soon as possible,” he explained. “I can do that quicker by myself.”

“Of course,” she said stiffly, folding her arms across her chest.

He hesitated and then came right up to her, tipping her face up to his with his fingertips and brushing a kiss against her lips. “I won’t be long,” he said in a low, intimate voice. “Cuthbert can get you some refreshment in the meantime.”

“As long as it’s eggs,” she said waspishly, to hide her flustered state. He pinched her chin, but made no further comment. Emitting a sharp whistle, he ran up the stairs with Hector following him close on his heels.

“Don’t worry,” said Cuthbert who was cheerfully clattering around with the pots. “I learnt how to make a tasty posset for my lady Linnet, with egg and nutmeg. Roland will be back before you know it.”

Eden sniffed. “I am not remotely concerned about his return,” she said, then spoiled it entirely by adding. “I only hope he does not break his neck on those steps.”

“He may seem like a great, clumsy oaf,” said Cuthbert sanguinely. “But he’s actually pretty light on his feet.”

Eden pulled out a wooden chair and sat on it, drawing her cloak in close around her body. She still wore her mittens too, for it was chilly in the Keep. “It’s a good thing you gave me these gifts, or I would likely soon perish here,” she commented as Cuthbert broke four eggs and niftily separated the whites from the yolks using the shells. He set the yolks aside and beat the whites.

He nodded thoughtfully. “There is that,” he said, and humming a tune, made his way over to the fireplace. He made a few passes with his hand and she heard almost instantly the crackle and flare of a fire.

“That was fast!” she said, startled.

“It wasn’t really out, just damped down,” Cuthbert said modestly. He set a pot of water over the blaze before rising from his knees and making for the pantry. He reappeared carrying a large stone jug and a pot, which he took straight over to the heating water.

“What are you adding?” asked Eden, cupping her chin in her hand.

“White wine,” said Cuthbert, pouring from the jug. “And spices.” He added three liberal pinches from the bowl, before sniffing it. “Nutmeg and cloves.” Then he stirred the pot, replaced the lid and left it to heat, returning to rifle the pantry. When he emerged, he was carrying honey and milk.

Eden felt her stomach rumble. “This is Linnet’s favorite, did you say?”

He nodded. “She used to say it could revive her even from the depths of despair.”

Eden looked up sharply. “It’s not as bad as all that,” she mumbled, hoping her face had not shown too clearly her dismay at her new home. Cuthbert merely shrugged, intent on his task.

“Have you been here before?” she asked. “With Linnet and her husband?”

He shook his head. “The old Baron, he practically moved to Cadwallader after his grandchildren were born. This place was shut up and forgotten.”

“Odd that Roland’s never brought you here,” Eden frowned. “He seems so proud of the place.”

“He’s got his fortune to make in the tournaments,” said Cuthbert sensibly. “He’s the youngest son. They never inherit.”

“Roland inherited Vawdrey Keep.”

“Only cos no-one else wanted it,” answered Cuthbert smartly.

Rather like me, thought Eden. Then she caught herself. Was she becoming melancholy? That would never do! Sitting up straighter on her stool, she cleared her throat. “The pot’s bubbling.”

Cuthbert crossed to the hearth and inspected the mixture. He fiddled with the height of the hook before returning to the table and mixing the egg whites with the milk.