Page 37 of A Cake of Cherries and Charm

Rosie turned and grinned at the sight of Jonathan walking between the rows of trees toward her.

“I wasn’t sure if you would come,” she admitted as he bowed. “I know you’re very busy.”

“I have to rest now and then,” he said, studying the tree nearest her. “Or I’ll just work myself to death. A king’s duties never end. Or at least, that’s what my father tells me.”

“I’m sure he’s right.” Rosie smiled. Then she looked at the cherry he’d taken hold of with his large, square fingers. “No, you don’t want the ripest ones.”

He paused and quirked a dark brow. “I don’t? But those are the sweetest.”

“Yes.” She nodded. “But the wedding is in three days. They’ll continue to ripen in the basket. I can’t have them all overly ripe when I use them.”

“How will you use them?” he asked, looking down at her basket.

“I’ll use the juices of the sweetest ones to flavor the cake,” she said, resuming her picking. “The prettiest ones, however, will be placed on the frosting as a decoration.”

“Where did you learn so much about baking?” he asked as she moved to the next tree.

“Well, my father was a scholar, as I think I told you. He encouraged any and all learning. And I suppose I turned out more like him than Mother because I would scamper about the village when I was small, dragging Snow along behind me, asking everyone I could find how they did things. Generally, my neighbors were kind, but many did their best to get rid of me.”

She cringed slightly. “I’m surprised, honestly, that many of them put up with me as long as they did, pesky little girl that I was. But the baker had fifteen grandchildren, and he loved children. And whenever I appeared, he would let me help him with his craft, explaining what he did as he did it. I think I spent two entire summers with him before my father died. And even after he died, Snow would sometimes do my chores for me so I could sneak away and help the baker for fun.”

“And where did you get the idea for this cake?” he asked, indicating the partially-filled basket of cherries.

“Well, my mother helped with the suggestion, but in all honesty, I always wanted–” Rosie felt herself blush and turned quickly to look back at the cherry tree. “Well, I–”

“You’ve made me curious,” Jonathan said, giving her one of his rare smiles. “Now I must know.”

Rosie did her best to keep her lips pursed. But another glance at his wide eyes made her chuckle. “I suppose I always wanted a cherry cake at my wedding. Only, I always wanted pink frosting–dyed with the cherry juice, of course.” Then, before he could ask her any more questions, she popped a cherry in her mouth. Its sweet, slightly tart flavor was delightful, and she chewed slowly, smiling as she did, wishing that the flavor–and this moment–could last.

“The cherry juice makes your lips a very pretty color.”

Rosie opened her eyes to find the prince staring at her with that same unreadable expression he so often wore. Then his eyes shifted down slightly, and her heart seemed to miss one of its beats.

Had he… had he been staring at her mouth?

He cleared his throat and looked quickly away before taking the basket from her hands. “You’ve had your cake dreamed up for a while, it seems,” he said gruffly, gesturing that she ought to resume her picking. “As I’m supposing you’ve had most of your wedding planned. Would that include the groom? Did you have a plan for what he would look like?”

She could tell from his tone that he was teasing, but his eyes were far too serious to make it a complete joke.

What was the man getting at?

Rosie forced a shrug and moved to the next tree, where she began plucking more fruits and dropping them into her basket with satisfying little plops.

“I’ve never been as romantic as my sister,” she admitted. “I suppose I always pictured more the kind of man I would marry than the exact man himself.”

“And that man would be?”

Goodness gracious. Why was the prince suddenly so curious?

“Someone strong and dependable,” she said slowly. “Loyal to a fault. Someone who would be devoted to me and our children.” As she said the word children her face heated. Why had she included that little detail?

But to her surprise, the prince laughed. “Wouldn’t you like to swoon even once over the man you would marry?”

Rosie gave him an impish smile. “I’m afraid I’ve always found swooning to be a great waste of time.”

This made him laugh even harder.

“Instead of swooning, I think I would know whether I loved someone by how much I wished to care for them. I’ve always shown my love that way–caring for others. And… I suppose… I would feel cared for that way, too.”