“Mental list,” he clarified.“I’m almost as good at list-keeping as I am at biscuit-eating.”
He was right.Everything she needed was there.
“You purchased all of this because I chanced to mention I hadn’t had time to go to market?”
He nodded.“Confession: after long and careful consideration, I concluded that your lack of biscuit ingredients was at least partially my fault.”
“Very self-aware,” she murmured.“But that was yesterday.What if I’ve been to market in the meantime?”
“Then we’ll have even more biscuits.”His eyes brightened.“Did you?”
“No.”She stifled a giggle at his crestfallen expression.
“You are a cruel, cruel woman,” he chastised her.“I shall write your name on the ‘wicked’ list for teasing me.”
“It’s not teasing,” she protested.“I’m a natural philosopher.Science deals with hypotheticals.”
“And I will deal withyoulater.”He gathered her measuring cups and a mixing bowl, then pointed toward the stools.“Sit.Allow me to demonstrate the only chemistry lesson I ever paid attention to.”
Penelope selected the closest stool and rested her elbows on the counter behind her in order to watch as he worked.Her insides felt warm and her normally tight muscles were unusually relaxed.
This was what it felt like to have someone take care of her, she realized.No—not to take care of her.To careabouther.A delicious shiver skated across her skin.She hadn’t just crossed his mind.He had acted on his feelings.She couldn’t stop smiling.
She did her best to focus on the recipe.“Make sure the eggs—”
“No interruptions, Natural Philosopher,” he scolded her.“Your kitchen is not my first workshop.Science is about observation, is it not?Your job is to observe silently.”
She tried to keep a straight face.“What if, in the name of science, I happen to observe that you look especially fine today?”
He gestured with his fingers.“More detail, please.”
She affected a dry, scientific tone.“One might observe that the tailoring of today’s coat emphasizes the strength of your muscles.That the gold in your waistcoat brings an extra sparkle to your eyes.Or how the smudge of flour on your left eyebrow makes an unusual sartorial touch.”
“You may comment upon your uncontrollable attraction to me at will,” he assured her.“Do continue.What were you saying about how the sight of me sets your loins a-quiver?”
She burst out laughing.“I didn’t—”
“How gravely you wound me, madam.”He sent her a faux petulant glare.“Just as I was debating sharing these biscuits with you.”
She clutched her hands to her chest in shock.“Who is this imposter in my kitchen?The real Saint Nick would never voluntarily share biscuits.”
“I was tricking you,” he agreed.“The biscuits are for me.Your gift is the empty basket.”
“It’s a lovely basket,” she said solemnly.“It smells of wicker and unrealized potential.”
“There might be a single portion of fine chocolate inside,” he said.“Also only for me.”
She grinned and hopped off the stool to investigate.There was indeed fine chocolate inside.More than enough for two.He’d thought of everything.
Her heart gave a little flip as she surveyed the kitchen.As much as she loved the pretty stone, the glass petal, the incredible flasks...His other presents had been static objects meant to be enjoyed by her alone.Today’s gift was an experience meant to be shared together.
She could not think of anything more romantic.But it was all thanks toDuchess.
After a quick taste of the batter, he slid the first tray of biscuits into the oven and grimaced.“As much as it pains me to say this… Can you set that abominable alarm?”
“As you wish.”She started the kitchen chronometer and then positioned herself directly before him.“I’ve only one question.How ever will we pass twelve long minutes?”
He moved closer, sending her a sultry glance from beneath his lashes.“Mmm.I doubt your suggestion at all resembles my—”
