Page 22 of Marin’s Promise

Any appetite she might have had evaporated. She shook her head.

He stepped closer. “I want it tasted to ensure it hasna been poisoned.” He held the peach before her mouth and his gaze darkened. Like when he’d put his thumb to her lips, and she'd sucked it into her mouth.

Heavens, what had she been thinking?

Her cheeks scorched with the memory. “I am without appetite.” She backed away.

“I love peaches and will gladly taste for you.” Nan stepped between them and opened her mouth wide enough so the hairs along her chin prickled.

Bran dropped the peach into her mouth. It was all Marin could do to keep from laughing when Nan snapped her mouth shut and noisily chewed the pickled fruit. She winked at Marin and nodded definitively to Bran. “'Tis not poisoned.”

He nodded his appreciation and placed the stopper back in the jar. “I️t appears I'm no' hungry either.” He handed her the remainder of the peaches. “For ye.”

Nan tucked the jar on a shelf and returned to the larder with Bran.

“What's in there?” he asked.

Marin didn't bother to come closer to see where he indicated.

At least, not until Nan hesitated a long while before answering, “Those are preserved eels.”

“I love eel,” Bran declared. “Cook them for supper tonight.”

“Nay.” Marin entered the larder. “We’re to have meat pies if you recall.”

“Aye.” He clapped his hands together. “On the morrow then.”

“Nay.”

He gave her an exasperated frown. “Why?”

“They're my father’s favorite,” Marin said by way of explanation.

“He's no' here.”

“But he will be,” she insisted. “We always have his favorite meal prepared the night he returns home.”

Her heart lightened to think of it, her father at the head of the table once more, regal and full of perfect authority. He would set everything to rights.

Her stomach dropped. Could it be set to rights?

Bran grunted at her refusal to allow him to eat the eels, but he did not press the issue. “The stores appear sufficient.” His tone was airy, as though he meant to sound important in his declaration.

“Aye, for now.” Nan returned to a table with several bowls covered with linen. She lifted a ball of dough from one and began to knead it. “I think we will be needing more on account of so many men to feed.”

Bran's brow furrowed.

“I'll see to it, Nan,” Marin offered. She'd be damned if she allowed Bran to disturb the order of things in her carefully constructed world.

Nan graciously inclined her head. “Aye, my lady.”

“Matters here are now settled.” Bran indicated the door. “Next I've a mind to see the solar and examine the accounts.”

Marin's chest tightened. “The accounts for the kitchen?”

“For the castle.”

Her stomach knotted at the prospect. If seeing him go through the larder was terrible, how would she handle him reading through her father’s accounts? Suddenly she found herself regretting her promise not to kill him.