Page 47 of The Beast of Ashwood Manor

“Yes.” I looked back at Royce’s door then made my way to him. “Royce isn’t feeling well. I should take over cooking.”

“Oh.” Gil raised his chin and looked away, as if thinking. “I’ll help.”

My brows popped up. “You will?”

“Yes.” He nodded and gestured for the stairs.

He followed me downstairs into the kitchen, which was in disarray. Half-cut vegetables were scattered out on the table. I wasn’t sure what Royce had in mind to make for supper. The only thing that came to me were pies.

“We can make meat pies,” I said. “I made them often at the tavern. Meat and fruit pies. We could make both and have dessert.”

Nodding hesitantly, Gil said, “That sounds fine.” He was lost as he opened cabinets and looked for items.

“Here.” I set three apples on the table. “Peel those and slice them into small pieces. We’ll have to mix them with some sugar and cinnamon and butter first. Then cook them over the fire and fill the pie.”

“That’s a lot to remember,” Gil said.

“I’ll help you.”

As Gil started on the apples, I started the fire in the brick oven and began cooking the meat in a pot. Then I got to work chopping onions and tomatoes to mix in with it, along with a few spices that would bring out the flavor. I tried to conserve as much as I could, just as Royce had told me.

As the meat concoction was simmering and Gil’s apple filling sat ready to be put into a pie, he joined me in making the dough. Before long, I was rolling a crust out, and Gil mimicked my moves.

“You have a bit of flour on your cheek,” he said, brushing it away with his hand.

“So do you.” I flicked a sprinkle of flour at him, and he chuckled low.

“I’d hate for you to get dirty again. I may have to throw you out into the sea.” Gil winked at me.

“Only if you come with me.” I reached up and touched his nose with a piece of dough, and he swatted my hand away playfully. “Now take the crust and place it over the bowl.” I showed him how with my own and then watched as he did as I taught him.

His hands moved the dough gently over it, and I couldn’t help but notice how big and strong his fingers looked as they pushed the crust down.

I looked away, my stomach pulling.

“This good?” He held the bowl up in his hand, and I smiled.

“It’s perfect. You can put the filling in now.”

He filled the apple pie as I filled the two meat pies, and we set them to bake in the oven and sat outside on the wooden bench to wait until they were done.

“I didn’t realize cooking could be so stressful,” Gil admitted. “Slaughtering certainly comes with its own skills, but a pie?” He shook his head.

“P-I-E. The one thing I know how to do well.” I laughed.

“I would do it again.” Gil glanced at me. “Make a pie with you, that is.”

My heart fluttered, and I suddenly felt light, as if I was within the clouds. Gil would make a pie with me again, and that alone made me feel cared for.

“And what about a new table to eat them at?” I asked. “Perhaps come spring, I can build a new one?”

He smiled crookedly before saying, “You can make a new table.” He put his arm up behind me on the bench. “And then we can have another picnic at it.”

Biting my lip, I said, “I’d like that.”

“Thisisdelicious!”

I couldn’t help but smile at Mary’s voice coming in from the dining room. Cale had served everyone plates of the meat pie while I stayed in the kitchen, slicing the apple pie that I had made.

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