Page 8 of Singing For His Kiss

She stepped into a kitchen that could kindly be called dishevelled. Steam rose from pots on a massive stainless steel stove, dishes sat on a marked pine table and a delicious aroma wrapped around her. Her mouth instantly watered. She was so hungry, her stomach felt as though it was touching her spine.

“That smells wonderful, Maria.”

Mrs. D’llessio turned from the sink, cheeks red, a ready smile on her mouth. She held a strainer full of steaming spaghetti and brought it to the bench. “You are staying to eat with us all tonight, Mr. Rhyder?”

Elizabeth wondered where else people would eat dinner. All the jackaroos sat around the communal table in the kitchen back at the homestead.

“Yes. I thought it would be nice to share tonight’s meal together, given the circumstances. What have you cooked?”

“My mama’s speciality.”

“Yay. Sgetti Bolonasia!” Madeline cheered.

Mrs. D’llessio chuckled. “Si, bambina. Always a favourite, yes?”

Madeline swung herself into a seat and picked up her fork, ready to eat. James pulled a chair out. Again, Elizabeth blinked in confusion, then realised with a start that he held the chair for her.

Cheeks heating at his show of thoughtfulness, Elizabeth slipped into the chair. She really wasn’t used to such consideration. The skin at her neck prickled as he leaned close and pushed her chair in. His hand brushed her shoulder, sending warmth tingling through her skin.

Elizabeth looked around the kitchen. It was all she imagined a kitchen would be in a mansion this size. Ultra-modern stainless steel appliances lined a bench, the huge double sink gleamed, a stylish goose-necked tap stood overlooking a pile of dishes. The bench tops were a sleek, black marble with flecks of silver that sparkled in the lights. Long chrome handles marked numerous draws, so many she wondered how they all could be filled, although she hinted at a guess they probably were. Everything would probably be catered for her in a house like this.

Mrs. D’llessio placed a large bowl of Spaghetti Bolognaise on the table. Madeline was already tucking into her own meal, smears of red sauce smudging her cheeks. She slurped a strand through her lips with such gusto that a drip of sauce flipped off the end and onto her chin.

Mrs. D’llessio cleaned Madeline’s chin with a ready napkin, chuckling. “That is the only way to eat spaghetti, is it not?”

The little girl smiled, clearly in her element. Loved and loving the grandmotherly attention the older woman gave her.

“Eat! Eat!” Mrs. D’llessio cut into Elizabeth’s musings and gestured to the as yet untouched bowl.

“You’d better do as she says. She can get mean if you don’t.” James winked at her.

Elizabeth was surprised to find he’d eaten quite a bit already while she’d been gawking at the kitchen. Elizabeth filled her plate, picked up her fork and tasted the food. It melted in her mouth and was nothing like she’d eaten before. Moments later, after she’d eaten five more mouthfuls, she realised they were watching her. She hadn’t realised just how hungry she’d been.

She pointed at the bowl as she chewed. “Delicious,” she said around a bite of food.

James watched her with a mix of amusement and confusion, and she was inexplicably caught in it once more. She hoped she’d remembered some modicum of manners. She was used to the jackaroos. If you didn’t get in quick, you missed out. It probably wouldn’t translate to this house.

Elizabeth rested her fork against the side of the bowl and forced her hands into her lap. “You’re a lovely cook, Mrs. D’llessio.”

Mrs. D’llessio sat on the spare seat with a large helping of food. “I learned from my mama. All the old recipes of Tuscany. The trick is in the pasta. Always hand-made. There is no comparison.”

Elizabeth nodded. She’d only ever eaten dried paste with bottled sauce. “This is the best I’ve ever tasted.”

“We’ve been spoilt with Mrs. D’llessio,” James said.

“I like Ravloli, too,” Madeline chimed in. “When I’m older, Mrs. D’llessio said she’s going to teach me how to cook.”

“That sounds wonderful. I’m a master of tinned soup and toast,” Elizabeth said.

“We would be too, if it wasn’t for Mrs. D’llessio.” James opened a bottle of wine and poured a glass for the two of them. He offered Maria one, but she declined with a shake of her head. Madeline was busy drinking her orange juice. “So, tell me, Elizabeth, where did you come from before you ended up in this secluded location and rescued my Madeline?”

Elizabeth scooped the last of the sauce from the bowl, feeling the satisfaction of a full stomach as she’d not felt in a long time. Tentatively, she took a sip of the wine. It tasted like wooded oak and slid over her tongue like silk.

“I worked on a cattle station in outback South Australia, up near the Northern Territory border.”

Madeline’s head lifted in interest. “Did you ride a horse?”

Elizabeth chuckled. “Sometimes. Usually, we rode motorbikes to round up the cattle. The dogs did a lot of the work.”

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