Chapter Eight
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The next evening, Emma stood at the top of the stairs and tried to calculate how to get down. She was allowed only partial weight bearing on her injured leg, the healer had said. A cane would be useful, but she didn’t have one.
And, by the Goddess, she wouldn’t let Ben continue carrying her to the kitchen, as he had for both breakfast and lunch. She’d get herself to supper. The scent of fried chicken drifting up the stairs was a lovely incentive.
Putting both hands on the railing, she jumped down one step. It jarred her leg but worked. She set her teeth and moved her hands lower on the railing.
“If you jump down one more step, I’ll paddle your ass and tell the healer.” Ben’s growl carried clearly from the dining room.
Emma stiffened.
He stalked up the stairs, glowering fiercely enough she’d have retreated if both her legs had been working.
“Ben, I need to—”
“You need to obey the healer’s orders, li’l female, or you’ll get yourself in a peck of trouble.” The rumble of his rough voice was oddly soothing. Effortlessly, he scooped her up, his strength reassuring. His massive size was always surprising, like viewing a mountain after being raised in the foothills.
He carried her into the center of the house, through the dining area where an old-fashioned brass chandelier hung over the gleaming oak dining table, under the wide archway into the kitchen. The wood flooring and trim work in the modernized Victorian was a beautiful russet color. Off-white kitchen cupboards hung over cream-colored granite countertops. Golden, hand-painted wall tiles brightened the backsplash behind the sink and oven. Despite being enormous, the kitchen was cheerful and comfortable.
Of course, bears were known for making their dens comfortable.
Ben seated her on a stool at the square center island and arranged her injured leg on another leather-topped stool. “Now, say thank you and stay put.” He gripped her shoulder firmly and waited for her answer.
“Thank you, Ben,” she said obediently.
“Much better.”
When his dark blue eyes crinkled at the corners with his easy smile, the stool somehow disappeared from under her, leaving her floating in the air.
With a satisfied glint in his eyes, he patted her.
Taking a calming breath, she looked around.
Ben’s littermate stood at the counter, mashing potatoes with an unreadable expression. If he was less gorgeous, she’d be more comfortable. Even worse, his darkly menacing attitude reminded her of Andre.
On the other side of the island, the little girl she’d seen the previous night was staring at her. Emma winked and saw the child’s eyes widen.
The male and his cub had been gone for breakfast and lunch, and she’d been disappointed at the child’s absence. During her apprenticeship as a bard, she’d instructed cubs in the clan, teaching stories and songs. Children were the most beautiful gift of the Mother.
“Emma, you’ve met my littermate, Ryder, aye?” When she nodded, Ben started to put his hand on the girl’s shoulder and stopped. “This is Minette.”
The cub was shy. Very, very shy. Oh, Emma knew the feeling. Rather than forcing the cubling to engage in conversation, Emma simply smiled.
After an uncertain look, first at Ben, then Emma, the girl returned her attention to the pile of freshly picked peas in front of her. With remarkable concentration, she pried open a pod and picked out the peas one by one.
Emma smothered a laugh. She’d done the same as a child during her frequent escapes to the gardens. No food tasted as fine as garden peas. In the same way, the time spent with the elderly, wizened gardener had nourished her soul.
“We’re having chicken, mashed potatoes, and salad for supper,” Ben said. “Sound all right?”
Her mouth was watering from the smells emitting from the oven. Aside from what she’d scavenged, she hadn’t enjoyed cooked food in three years. No matches, no pots, no salt. “Wonderful. What can I do to help?”
“Nothing.” When she narrowed her eyes at him, he held up a hand. “Sorry, should have known. How about you cut up the vegetables for the salad?”
“I’d love to.” Her whole day brightened. Her mother had never let her in the kitchen.
The cook can handle it. A Cavanaugh doesn’t do menial labor.
This Cavanaugh was happy to do anything she could to help. “Just give me a knife and whatever you need chopped.”
The other male eyed her with an awfully cynical gaze. What was he thinking—that she’d sneak extra bites when no one was looking? Or maybe he didn’t trust her with his cubling.
Despite being the most stunning male she’d ever seen, he apparently had the sociability of a wolverine.
Ben placed a knife, cutting board, and a mass of cleaned carrots in front of her and returned to preparing the rest of the salad at the counter.
After emptying the last pea pod, Minette started watching Emma, obviously wanting a carrot. As soon as Ryder looked away, Emma rolled over a cut-up piece.
The girl popped the carrot in her mouth.
At the crunching sound, Ryder turned. By the Mother, what a worried stare. He really didn’t trust Emma, did he?
She glanced at his brother.
Ben winked.
Bouncing slightly, Minette inched her fingers forward on the table, seemingly unwilling to ask for more.
Emma waited until Ryder returned to his potatoes. She teasingly waggled a carrot piece over the tiny fingers before setting it in the child’s hand.
Minette’s mouth opened, but no laugh emerged. No sound at all. In fact, had Emma ever heard her speak?
“Um.” Emma frowned at Ben. “She doesn’t…”
The other male answered. “Hasn’t for about a year, apparently.”
“Oh.” Although Minette was obviously related to the brothers, the apparently implied she was a recent addition to the household. “She hasn’t lived with you long? Where is her mother—your mate?”
“Minette has been with me about a week.” Ryder’s mouth compressed into a straight line. “Her mother isn’t here.”
Emma couldn’t read him. Was that grief? Had the mother died?
When he gave his daughter a worried look, Emma saw the child was sucking her thumb, her gaze down. Yes, the mother must have died, or Minette would be with her. Males didn’t raise cubs otherwise.
No wonder the two males appeared at a loss with the cub.
“Hey, Minette,” Emma whispered.
After a second, the cubling lifted her head.
“I’ll give you a carrot for how many years old you are.” Thank the Goddess that children diverted easily.
Interest dawned in the big hazel eyes.
“Are you two years old?” Emma held up two fingers and got a headshake no. “Or three years old?” Three fingers.
No.
Emma added another finger.
A flicker of a smile appeared. A tiny nod. Using her other hand, Minette arranged four small fingers in return.
“Very good, sweetie. You’re a big girl, aren’t you?” Emma grinned when the thin shoulders straightened proudly. “Four years old means four carrot pieces.” Counting one by one, she set each slice in front of the girl.
Ryder made a grumbling noise deep in his throat—no, he didn’t trust Emma at all—but his expression also revealed pride and worry. Maybe her opinion of him had been hasty. What would she have given as a child to have a father so involved in her care?
Laughing, Ben tugged on her braid. “I’d better remove those carrots before you give them all away.” He swiped the pieces into the salad bowl, leaving a couple behind.
Emma immediately shared them…with her new cubling friend.