Page 54 of How To Tame A Trickster Fae

He picks up my other foot, slowly unlacing the ties and removing the boot and my sock just as carefully as he did the first.

“Well, for starters, I suggest not wearing these boots until they’re broken in, and secondly, I suggest you sit back and relax while I make us lunch, a fire, and a healing salve my mother taught me when I was just a young whip of a thing.”

“I don’t want to put you to any trouble?—”

“Oh, really,” he purrs, leaning close enough that I feel his breath against my lips. “And that’s why you bound us together? So you wouldn’t put me to any trouble?”

My jaw drops, and I snort in indignation.

Calean leans further forward, and for a split second, I think he’s going to kiss me again.

Then he boops my nose with his finger.

“That’s what I thought, Wren Tierson.”

With that, he gracefully stands and makes himself fully at home in my kitchen and house. It takes him no time at all to build a fire in my hearth, and even less time than I thought possible to whip up some concoction—that smells much better than my comfrey salve—and gently apply it to my heels.

“There,” he finally announces, looking beyond pleased with his handiwork. “Now I can fetch us lunch. I assume your larder is as meager as the rest of your supplies?”

“I have been meaning to stock up on some things,” I mutter, slightly abashed.

“No, don’t look like that, little witch. I know it’s hard for you right now, all of this to manage on those slim shoulders with no one to help. I will be back before you know it.”

The door closes softly behind him.

I blink, surprised at the one tear that trickles down my cheek at feeling seen by someone for the first time in a very, very long while.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

WREN

By the time Caelan returns, I’ve dozed off in the chair, the crackling fire and soft cushions too cozy and snug to resist.

“Good,” he murmurs in my ear, then leans closer to kiss my temple. “I’m glad you’ve been resting.”

I crack one eye open, stretching deliciously long.

His gaze drops to my breasts, and I hold back a laugh, torn between liking how he’s staring at me and wondering how in the world he could ever think himself evil.

“What’s in the bag?” I settle on asking instead. Might be cowardly to ask that instead of something meaningful, but at least it’s safe.

The paper rustles as he sets it down on the wooden kitchen counter, and I perk up as he pulls out a few wax-paper-wrapped packages. They fill the small space of my home with a flavorful smell, my mouth watering almost immediately.

My stomach growls in response, and Caelan arches an eyebrow at me. “You don’t take very good care of yourself, do you?”

“I…” I tilt my head and screw up my mouth, because honestly, he’s got me there. “I brushed my hair last night.”

“I noticed.”

“I have a business to run, and I have to do it all myself— The plates are in the left cupboard, no, not that one, yes, right there."

He pulls the plates out, looking so at home in my kitchen that it’s hard to believe this is the first time he’s been here.

I like the way he looks here.

“I noticed that too,” he says, grinning as he piles a plate high with food for me.

Roast chicken with crispy golden skin, dripping with fat and herbs. Fried potatoes with some kind of spicy-looking red sauce. A hunk of fresh sourdough bread with honey butter, still steaming slightly from the oven. Then there are a number of roasted vegetables, a rainbow of carefully sliced moons.

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