An Unlikely Alliance (House of Renwick #2.5)(7)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

The entire kitchen staff, fire now put out, were covered in a buttery sauce from head to toe.

Royce tried to stay calm as he walked to the closest of his staff and stopped. "You, explain. Now."

"You see, sir, there was a rat, and we tried to get it before the chef saw. He has this terrible fear of rodents and when he saw it, part of his apron caught fire from the stove, and I panicked."

"You panicked?" Unfortunately the story made sense. "And what, pray tell, did you do?"

"I threw sauce on him."

"You threw sauce on the new chef," Royce repeated, glancing around at the guilty faces in the room. The young man nodded, waiting for his obvious consequences.

As Royce was opening his mouth to deliver the sentencing, Evelyn walked in and gasped. "Is anyone hurt?"

All eyes shifted to him. How he wished he could have been burned in the fire, so she would at least touch him. He shook his head and told the rest of the kitchen staff to get cleaned up and resume their duties.

Turning to Evelyn, he sighed. "I’m afraid I have no food for you." He felt utterly defeated and foolish. Every object his eyes flashed to seemed more like a torture device than an object with which to make food. It was hopeless. Even if he knew what to do, he was convinced anything he made would taste awful, sealing his fate with Evelyn once and for all.

Evelyn put her hands on her hips and sighed. "Well, that won’t do."

"I’m sorry, Evelyn. Apparently my new chef—whom I hired just to impress you, might I add—has a terrible fear of rats and caught fire upon seeing one on the floor. To prevent catastrophe, my always-able kitchen staff threw sauce on him. That was about the moment I smelled the smoke for myself and ran in. Though I am loathe to admit it, I did not save the day."

He kept his eyes downcast, waiting for her dainty footsteps to begin to move away, telling him he had lost her once and for all. His only bait was destroyed, and he already admitted defeat. After what seemed like several minutes, he looked up to find Evelyn pulling food from the nearby cupboard.

"What are you doing?" Curiosity dripped from every word.

"Making you dinner." She scooted past him and smiled. Unable to control the urge to smile, he did just that, and helped her with a nearby apron, putting one on himself as well.

"So what are we cooking, my lady?" Royce went to the stove, ready to work.

"I had my heart set on that delicious lamb over there with the sauce I see splattered all over creation."

Royce laughed. "Well, we could always clean it up." He wiped his finger across the gooey substance and lifted it to his lips. It was delicious.

"I want a taste," Evelyn suddenly said behind him. He nearly forgot to breathe as he lifted the sauce to her pink lips. Face flushed, she leaned forward and closed her eyes as her velvet tongue licked his finger.

It took every ounce of self-control he possessed not to pull her into a tight embrace and never let go. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to take her now, to make her his, yet she wasn’t like everyone else. Had any of his mistresses seen a mess like this, they would have screamed and run out of the house. Not Evelyn. No, she offered to cook and clean up as if it was a normal occurrence for chefs to be set on fire. She was truly special.

When her eyes opened, they locked on his. And for one brief moment he thought she might be the one to look away. Instead it was he, the coward, who glanced down, breaking the connection. It was too much. Impossible that he would be the weak one, but here he was ready to flee, because for once in his life, he found a woman he wanted for more than a week. A woman he wanted to promise to forever. A woman his father would have wholeheartedly approved of.

It scared him out of his wits.

Chapter Five

Evelyn tried to ignore the shortness of breath and the sound of her own heart beating wildly out of her chest. It proved to be difficult when her eyes locked with Royce’s; she almost looked away, but Royce—strong, egotistical Royce—was the first to break the lingering gaze, telling her yet again the man was a lot less confident than he seemed.

Drat him for being so endearing. She wanted to laugh when she saw how defeated he looked, yet when she heard him admit his little plan, she felt nothing but sympathy for him. He expected her to leave.

Well, she wanted to prove him wrong. She wasn’t like those city girls he was constantly surrounded by. Gathering some courage, she walked by him to pick up the knife near his hands. Part of her wanted to point it at him to see what he would do; the other part told her it wasn’t proper for a young lady to point knives.

"What … are you doing?" Royce asked, perplexed.

Evelyn had the knife aimed at him in an unladylike manner, then laughed. "Hmm, I do wonder how good you are at defending yourself. Would you fight back even though I’m a lady?"

Royce laughed, loud and beautiful. It made his entire face more enchanting. His eyes crinkled at the corners, and his dimples appeared more pronounced than before Evelyn nearly dropped the knife and wanted to curse, because now it seemed like it was he who had the upper hand. Laying his hand over hers, he leaned in. "My dear, I would rather fight you than my choice of anyone in the world."

She licked her lips and whispered, "Why me?"

The room seemed to hum with passion as his grip tightened across her hand. Trembling almost imperceptibly, she met his gaze. His eyes were heightened with awareness.

"Because," he whispered into her ear, sending shivers down her spine, "it might be my only chance to touch you or be near you. I’ll take what I can get."

She didn’t want to move. If she moved, he would move; yet she needed to get out of his deadly embrace. Why was her body rebelling against her? As she prepared her escape, Royce released his grip on her hand, sending the knife sailing to the floor. He pushed her out of the way and released a curse so loud it nearly shook the walls.

Cringing, she looked down. The knife was pointed directly into his boot. Fighting the urge to laugh, even though it was terribly rude of her, she cupped her hand over her mouth and gasped. Albeit not particularly convincingly, as Royce sent her a searing glare. "Get. It. Out." He said pointing at the offending blade.

She knelt and pulled the knife out of his boot, noting it hadn’t quite penetrated all the way through the thick leather. What was all the fuss about anyway? As she looked up, Royce was smirking. "I knew it would happen soon."

"What?" She was still looking up from the ground.

"You’d be on your knees before me, worshipping the ground I walk on."