“Well, considering I’ve had no servants, I didn’t really have a choice.”
She stood, arms folded, keeping the robe closed as she walked. “Why is that?”
Lucius stepped away from her, her floral scent making his thoughts spin. She was far too beautiful in that robe—especially since he knew she wore nothing underneath.
He grabbed the bag of groceries and placed them on the counter before lighting the oven.
“My art collection is in my estate. At one point, very early on, I had servants—until one of them stole something meant for a client. It almost cost me my entire career.”
He bent down and called a flame to his fingertip, lighting the oven. Then, he filled a pot with water and placed it on the stove. Meanwhile, Tavia began unpacking the groceries: carrots, onions, celery, and lamb wrapped in brown paper. Moving around him, she opened drawers, searching for something.
“Knives are in there,” Lucius said. She nodded, took one out, and immediately began cutting the carrots.
“Don’t you ever get lonely?” she asked, focusing on her task. She moved the knife expertly, chopping the carrots in one swift motion before gathering them in her palms and dropping them into the pot.
When she leaned across Lucius, he caught a whiff of her floral scent and desperately tried to step away,but the small kitchenette offered little space.
Boundaries,he reminded himself.Do not cross them.
He busied himself by unwrapping the lamb and held out his hand for the knife. She handed it over and stepped back, watching him.
“My work kept me busy,” he said, cutting the lamb into small pieces. “I worked and traveled a lot, and when I needed comfort, I found it.”
He avoided elaborating on the many relationships he’d entertained or the fact that he had a wardrobe for any potential female guests, which spoke volumes. Yet, he had only spent significant time with one female, one with whom he’d shared his secret—a mistake that haunted him.
When the lamb was ready, he handed the knife back to Tavia.
“You can chop the onions,” he said.
She took the knife and began chopping as Lucius heated the skillet. He scooped out a slab of tallow from a jar and tossed it into the pan.
Once turned, Lucius no longer needed food, but he found he missed the act of cooking.
“Here,” Tavia said, her eyes watering from the onions.
“Thank you,” he replied, adding the onions to the pot and the lamb from the skillet.
He stirred the pot and asked, “Tell me about your life before thieving.”
“There’s not much to say,” she began. “My parents have an old cottage in the woods, far from any village.”
“Is that where you found the squirrel?”
Wiley lay curled by the fire, snoozing peacefully.
“No, we found each other about a month ago.”
“And the thieving?”
She paused, and Lucius shook the skillet before emptying its contents into the pot.
“I had to get out of there,” she said. “They’re so isolated, and they don’t even care.”
“Well, maybe they want to be isolated,” he suggested.
Tavia frowned.
“I don’t know. They say they prefer the quiet life, but everything is always broken. Nothing is ever new. They certainly don’t have chocolate lying around the house,” she muttered, folding her arms and leaning against the cabinet.
