Page 82 of Torin and the Princess

First I banged on the guest room door and woke up Jen, then I went down the kitchen to make the coffee. I glanced out the window as I was putting the filter in the basket to see Torin striding up the lawn.

He was wearing his own clothes, the yellow shirt with the embroidered details, the plaid kilt, and the fur-trimmed cloak. He had his broadsword and dirk sheathed from his belt, and the sporran hanging in the front. He looked as if he were embarking on a journey.

He rapped on the door.

I pushed the button on the coffeemaker and went to answer it. Both Torin and Dude were standing on the mat.

Torin bowed deeply, “Good morn. I could see ye had arisen, Mistress Lexi, I hope ye daena mind that I hae come.”

“No this is fine, good morning, Torin, welcome.” Then I said to Dude, “Did you stay the whole night bugging Torin?”

Dude meowed.

Torin said, “He kept watch with me and followed close by m’heels, he is a verra loyal cat.”

I returned to the kitchen saying over my shoulder, “Jen will be up in a moment to get the pancakes going, I’m going to whip up the batter.”

He followed me in. “I had a question for ye...”

“Uh oh, is it bad?”

“Nae, twas somethin’ I was ponderin’ last night... Where is yer bread oven?”

“Oh, that’s funny, you made the question sound important.” I pointed to the oven, “That’s the oven.” I opened the door to show him. “I don’t really bake bread, unless it’s zucchini or carrot — this is bread.” I pulled a loaf from the steel bread box that had been in the family forever and held it up. “But we aren’t going to eat bread, we’re having pancakes.” He unfastened the brooch, took off his cloak, and stabbed the brooch through the fabric and closed it to keep the bundle together. He took off his sword belt and leaned it in the corner with the bundle beside it.

While he did that, I got my cookbook down from the shelf and flipped it directly to the page, pulled a bowl down, and stacked the bags of flour and sugars, the can of salt, and a dozen eggs beside it on the counter.

He came close and watched this intently, big and close, oh my, it got me flustered.

I poured flour into a measuring cup as I asked, “Have you seen a dozen eggs in a carton before?” I gestured with my elbow because my hands were full. “Can you pull me out four?”

He figured out the lid and passed the eggs to me, I broke them into a bowl and whisked them. “What does a kitchen look like where you’re from?”

He leaned on the counter, his shoulders wide, he looked a combination of dangerous strength combined with an easy smile and good humor. He was also vulnerable, far from home and reliant on me for everything.

It was very, very charming.

And his voice was so sexy, deep, and low when he said, “The eggs are collected in the morn, they are warm and kept in a pail.”

“Interesting, I buy them from the store, I would like to keep chickens, but…” I dumped the eggs into the bowl and began to whisk. “Not sure I can protect them from the predators. Sounds heartbreaking.”

“Aye, because ye hae insufficient guard?—”

Jen walked in. “Why are you making the pancakes?”

“Because you are not in here to make them.”

Jen said, “Good morning, Torin.”

“Good morn, Mistress Jen.”

She got busy pulling the griddle out from under the stove, placing it on the range, and setting the flame to the necessary height.

Torin leaned over, asking, “How did ye start the flame?”

She showed him the dial, turning it back and forth, the flame going up and down. “Och, this is a miracle.”

I wiped my hands on my apron, pulled open my junk drawer, and found a box of matches. “Check this out.” I struck one on the side of the box.

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