“I’m sure it’s fine,” I gasp.
“Well, I need you to come look, because the tops are a bit soft, and yours are always—”
“Give us a moment, please, would you, Nora?” Alek’s eyes are shining.
“Of course.” She gives him a flourishing curtsy—but then she doesn’t close the door.
“GO INSIDE!” I snap.
“Well,” she huffs. “If you—”
I yank the door shut so hard that the glass panes rattle. Then I put a hand over my eyes.
“Just leave me, my lord,” I say. “Allow me to die, right here, on this step—”
“Alek,” he says, his voice rough and soft and right against the shell of my ear.
I inhale sharply, but he’s right there.
“Alek,” I whisper, and he smiles.
“The meat pie situation seems rather urgent,” he says. “I should leave you to it.” He casts a glance up the lane. “I do not want to face Lord Jacob again.”
I nod, then swallow. My thoughts are still disorganized, and I want to pick everything up right where we left off.
“I’ll be back soon,” he says. “You have my word.”
“No messages?” I whisper.
“Not this time.” His hand finds my face, his palm gentle against my cheek. When he kisses me this time, it’s slower. Warmer. Lazy sunlight instead of a bonfire. Forget the barn and the pitchforks. I want to hook my fingers in his sword belt and drag him up the stairs.
Then he’s gone, and I’m all but falling through the door. It clicks closed, and I lean against the door frame and sigh.
Nora clears her throat emphatically.
“I know, I know,” I say. “Don’t marry that one.”
She giggles. “That was better than Mother’s old books. I think I might have changed my mind.”
CHAPTER 30
TYCHO
Jax returns to the chair by the fire while I divvy up the food. Jacob arranged for sliced beef and cheese to be delivered, along with a loaf of bread, a pitcher of raspberry wine, and a variety of fruits. Jax hasn’t said anything, so I haven’t either, and I’m glad to have something to occupy my hands. I take the other chair, and we eat in silence for the longest time. But maybe the food or the fire or the closeness eases a bit of the tension between us, because after a while the quiet becomes more amiable.
Uncomfortable is not the right word, he said.
I want to know what the right word is.
Jax ate hesitantly at first, as if he wasn’t sure he should dare. But I piled as much food onto his plate as I did my own, and it doesn’t take long before he’s eaten it all. I think of how far his forge is from town, and I remember Callyn sending him the apple tarts. I’m sure Jax is mostly reliant on his father for food, and I wonder how often he has to go hungry in addition to dealing with that awful man.
I don’t ask if he wants more. I just take his platter and load it with more food when I take my own.
“You shouldn’t be serving me,” Jax says, and it’s the first thing he’s said since the food arrived.
“If you can hop on one foot while balancing a full plate of food and a glass of wine, I will be truly impressed.”
“The glass might be a challenge.”
