Susan Stephens - Housekeeper at His Beck and Call

Liv searched through the store cupboards for the ingredients for a main course. The cupboards needed a good clean out and yielded little more than a few half empty packets of cereal and some assorted tins. The refrigerator was better stocked with fresh eggs, vegetables, salad and beer…

As she straightened up Liv’s face brightened when she noticed a side of bacon on the kitchen counter. She walked over to examine it. It was just lying on a platter beneath a giant-sized net. The meat was a luscious tawny red colour, and the perfectly distributed fat was the buttery shade of clotted cream. Her mouth watered as she imagined it thinly sliced and crisped up in the oven. For pudding she had prepared Vanilla Snow, one of her lighter desserts—she had better come up with something more substantial before she served that…

‘Absolutely delicious,’ Cade pronounced, much to Liv’s relief. She had prepared a soufflé omelette for him with crispy bacon on the side, and it was done to a turn, if she did say so herself.

‘Where did you find such delicious bacon?’ Cade demanded. ‘I thought my farm produced the best—I only need the trophy from the Great South Western Show now to prove it to the world—but that was wonderful!’ Sighing with contentment, he patted his iron flat stomach.

A whisper of dread intruded on Liv’s pleasurable feelings. She shrugged it off. This was the friendliest conversation Cade had attempted since she had arrived, and more than made up for his earlier unkindness. And if he was prepared to make an effort, then so was she. ‘I’m really glad you enjoyed it,’ she said, taking his plate.

‘You haven’t told me yet where you found such excellent bacon,’ Cade reminded her. ‘Perhaps I should be worried about my chances at the show tomorrow. It seems I have some stiff competition in the area…Olivia?’ he prompted when Liv remained silent.

She wanted to be a thousand miles away. She wanted today erased from her memory bank. She couldn’t stop running the scene that was about to play out in her head, and it wasn’t looking good for her. She might as well fall on her wooden spoon now. ‘It was your bacon.’

Cade laughed. He spread his hands out on the table palms flat, looking, as well he might, the master of all he surveyed; a man in command of every situation—apart, that was, from his bacon. ‘I beg your pardon?’ he said, angling his face towards her.

Liv was rapidly losing the will to live. ‘I said it was your bacon.’

When Cade remained grimly silent, words poured from her in a reckless torrent. ‘I cut those slices you just ate off that lump of meat in the kitchen. You’ve got some excellent knives in yours drawers. I don’t know if you know about them, but they’re really sharp.’

Cade stood up very slowly. Planting his fists on the table, he leaned towards her. ‘ What did you say? ’

She couldn’t stop gabbling about the wonder of Cade’s excellent knives until he slammed one fist down on the table, shocking her into silence.

‘Talk to me about the bacon.’

His eyes had narrowed to pinpricks of light. Was he serious? She wanted to laugh hysterically she was so scared and bewildered. If Cade had told her about the bacon—if he’d warned her…‘The bacon?’ Her throat felt as if someone were standing on it.

‘That’s right.’

Cade’s voice was menacing and low, and the table dividing them suddenly seemed far too small a barrier. But what had she told herself about meekly accepting blame? Hadn’t she had enough of that at home from her mother? Wasn’t that what she had escaped from? And wouldn’t it follow her everywhere if she didn’t make a stand? Digging her nails into her palms, she kept her chin tilted firmly up. ‘You just ate your bacon. I cut it from that lump of meat on the side in the kitchen—’

‘That lump of meat?’ A muscle worked in Cade’s jaw. ‘That was my prize-winning fletch!’

Liv flinched as Cade raised his hands, but it was only to rake his abundant hair with stiff, angry fingers.

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