He quickly regained his senses. “What fool likes the smell of death?”
After a lazy, sultry laugh, she said, “That isn’t death you smell, that’s my scent, and obviously you like it.”
He dug his fingers into the edge of the mantel, angry with himself and swearing beneath his breath that he should be trapped here with an evil woman who would seduce her enemy to gain her freedom. He had to keep his wits about him and keep Carissa at a distance.
Carissa sagged against one of the posts in the small cellar. She should be used to maintaining a farce; after all, she had done so since she’d been young, but she was so tired of being someone she wasn’t. However, she had played her part far too long and far too successfully to think anyone would believe otherwise of her. She was so good at her ruse that she often forgot who she truly was.
And to have to play this game with Ronan tore at her heart, especially after hearing him claim that he preferred love to sex with a stranger. He hadn’t even hesitated or gone into a long explanation. He stated it simply and forcefully, letting her know he would have it no other way.
How she wished he could love her with such intensity. She laughed to herself, the quiet rumble rippling down her throat. How did she ever allow herself to fall in love with him? As soon as the first stirring had occurred, she should have distanced herself from him, but she hadn’t. This was all her own fault, and now she was left with the consequences.
Enemies didn’t forgive, and they certainly didn’t fall in love. She was amazed she had been able to fall in love at all, having been taught that love was for fools. Her father had warned her repeatedly that love destroyed. It caused empires to fall and brought nothing but madness to great leaders. He had insisted that she avoid it completely, and when the time was right, he would arrange a lucrative marriage for her. That was, after all, a daughter’s duty to her father.
However, she discovered that love couldn’t be ruled, and it certainly couldn’t be ignored. But she also learned it could cause more pain than she ever imagined possible.
How she would ever be able to survive time alone with Ronan and in such close quarters wasn’t a prospect she liked to imagine, unless of course it was under different circumstances. But with that not being the case, here she was, doing what she had to do, playing the coldhearted, self-centered daughter of Mordrac, in order to survive.
As she collected the food staples, she repeatedly reminded herself not to stray from her role. Ronan had immediately questioned her cooking skills and rightly so, since that was the chore of slaves. But it was a slave who taught her the benefit of cooking. The old woman, Ula, had told her it was an art that could bring peace, pleasure, and control to her life. Carissa had thought her crazy, but Ula was far from mad; she was perceptive, wise, and grateful to Carissa for saving her.
What else could she have done? If Carissa had not claimed the slave for her own use, her father’s cruelty would surely have seen the old woman dead in no time. So she had insisted she required the slave’s help, and her father relented.
It was at night when she and Ula were alone that the old woman began to teach her how to bake bread and buns, apple buns being her favorite, and mix herbs to make tasty stews and meats. And she looked forward to every moment spent with the woman.
Unfortunately, Carissa knew she was endangering Ula’s life by learning how to cook. Her father would be furious that his daughter was doing the work of a slave. And besides, Ula missed her village and her family, though she assumed all was lost after the barbarians attacked.
Carissa made discreet inquires and found that Ula’s son, daughter-in-law, and two grandchildren had survived and had made it safely to another village. Carissa made arrangements for the woman’s escape and reunited her with her family.
Ula shed tears when they bid each other goodbye, and as she hugged Carissa tightly, she told her that someday Carissa would shed tears once again, but they would be tears of joy, for goodness comes to those who are good.
Carissa wanted to believe that, but it was difficult. Even more so when her father realized the slave was gone. He demanded to know what had happened to her and Carissa related a tale she knew would please her father and cause no more questions.
She had told him that the old woman had died and, as the ground was frozen from the winter snow, Carissa had had the body tossed into the woods for the animals to feast on. As she expected, the story delighted him. So much so that he gifted her with precious jewels.
The question now was, did she dare take the chance and let her cooking skill be known? Or did she play ignorant and suffer through tasteless meals?