“Look, I may not be able to walk across flat ground without tripping, but I know food. Trust me.”
That humor fell to his lips. “My opinion of that atrocity aside, I’m sure milord will enjoy it. Honey cake is his favorite.”
“Oh really?” I feigned surprise. “I had no idea. What a coincidence.”
Had I intentionally chosen honey cake as that evening’s dessert in an attempt to win over the demon lord? Possibly. After falling in love with five men, I’d learned the way to a person’s heart was through their stomach. Even Rowan couldn’t resist. To seduce my carb thief, I just needed to bake bread and slather it in butter.
“Perhaps sometime you can…” Fane’s face flushed, and he averted his eyes. “Teach me how to bake? My specialty lies in savory cooking. I’ve yet to master desserts and pastries.”
I beamed at the idea. “I’d love to. And maybe you could show me how to make that herb crusted lamb.”
He tipped his head, drawing attention to his shiny black horns. “We have an accord.”
“An accord? You make it sound so official. I feel like I should call you Lord Fane of the Tasty Lamb, while you refer to me as Evan, Lord of the Muffins.”
A snort came from the far corner. I narrowed my eyes, knowing exactly who was hiding in the shadows.
“Why am I not surprised?” Fane shifted his gaze to the same corner. “Those men of yours never let you stray too far from their sight.”
The smell of black cardamom strengthened before Rowan materialized and stepped from the shadows. A golden cuff held his auburn hair in place over one shoulder, and his bangs, too short to pull aside, curtained around his eyes.
“Hey, you.” I wiped off my hands before meeting him on the other side of the counter. “How long have you been hiding in the corner?”
“Since the pup kicked me out of the room.” He tweaked my cheek, not one to be overly affectionate in front of people we didn’t know well.
“Lake kicked you out?”
“Yep.” Rowan hopped up on the counter near the stove, bringing one knee up as he leaned against the back wall. “He and Duke are playin’ chess in the parlor.”
“You cheated, didn’t you?” I put my hands on my hips. “Using your shadows to move the pieces across the board? No wonder you were kicked out.”
Fane found that amusing. “I consider that to be strategic. One must use whatever advantage they possess to win. Besides, nothing says magic is against the rules.”
“I like you, demon,” Rowan told him. “You’re the only one who gets it.”
“Don’t encourage him, Fane.” I checked the loaves of bread proving in the warming drawer beneath the stove. Almost done rising. Once done, I’d glaze with an egg wash on top and pop them into the stone oven. I couldn’t wait to use that beauty for the first time and see just how golden and perfect it made the crust.
“You made bread?” Rowan salivated. “I’ll just take one of those loaves for my dinner. Nothing else needed.”
“What you need is a good spanking.” I wagged a finger at him. “One of these days, Lake is going to—”
Rowan nipped at my wagging finger.
“Hey!” I yanked my hand back, out of reach from his chompers.
“If you don’t want me to bite it, don’t stick it in my face.”
The two of us stared at each other before laughing.
Fane looked toward the open window, but I caught a curve to his lips. Further proof of his growing trust in not only me but my men as well. Looks like he’d forgiven Rowan for that comment about his shiny horns and how they’d fetch a nice price to the right seller.
Not that Rowanwoulddo that. He was a butthead but wouldn’t actually hurt someone who didn’t deserve it.
With the potatoes boiling, bread proving, and pork chops marinating, we had time to kill before dinner, so I decided to brew a pot of coffee. Fane had placed the beans in a container on the counter, and I inched my way over with a barely restrained eagerness.
The kitchen, although super nice with plenty of ovens, counter space, and a treasure trove of ingredients, was more medieval in style and function than the one in my cottage. Energy crystals and runes powered everything, but appliances were simplistic. No fancy mixers, high-powered burr mills, or brewing machines.
Not a problem. Before opening my café, I’d made coffee the old-fashioned way in Briar’s clinic plenty of times. Grinding the beans with a small mill and pouring hot water over a strainer and into a pitcher. Easy peasy.
