Sweeter Than Sin (13 page)

"That would be lovely. Last night I started sketching the cacao pods I purchased at the market, and I confess that the luscious colors and fragrance made me think about your Grandmother's recipes." The corners of her mouth twitched upward. "Which led me to brew up a late night treat of hot chocolate."

"I've copied out some far more intriguing recipes than frothed milk and powdered cacao. What say you we give them a try?"

At Kyra's nod, Rafael turned and whistled for Hero. "I've a nice meaty bone, which should keep him out of trouble."

As for his own wayward thoughts...

He couldn't stop recalling her halting apology for kissing him.
Damnation!
He didn't want apologies. He wanted her to enjoy their budding friendship as much as he did.

No guilt, no shadows of recrimination. Over the last several weeks, he had come to realize that remaining imprisoned by the past only allowed Darkness yet another victory over Hope and Joy.

Jack would not have wished that.

Nor, he guessed, would Kyra's sister.

Kyra's laugh drew him from his inner reveries. "Trouble!" she repeated as the dog bounded across the terrace, beheading a swath of potted geraniums with his wagging tail. "I fear our four-footed friend has a knack for getting into trouble."

"And I have a knack for getting him out of trouble, so we are well matched." Rafael offered his arm. "Shall we go in?"

* * *

The colors and scents were a feast for the senses. Kyra paused for a moment, drinking it all in, before following Rafael to the large worktable set in the center of the kitchen. After settling Hero in a corner by the stove, happily gnawing on the promised bone, he took up a fine-tooth grater and began shaving nutmeg into a bowl.

"What can I do to help?" she asked.

Her question seemed to take him by surprise. "You can chop these." He passed over a small dish of shelled walnuts, along with a cleaver. "Have a care—the blade is very sharp."

She liked that he didn't assume she was a helpless widget, who had never lifted a finger to do some ordinary task. It made her feel...

No, she wasn't going to spoil the pleasant interlude by brooding.

Taking up the cleaver, she set to work. "How small do you wish the pieces?"

"Those are perfect." Rafael looked up through his dark lashes. "You did not tell me you were an experienced cook."

"I'm not. But I often make infusions and tisanes from the herbs and healing plants I collect in the forests. So I've learned to wield a knife and a mortar and pestle."

"A lady of many talents," he murmured. "Here, since you so adept with kitchen implements, kindly cut up this orange and squeeze out three measures of juice into the glass by your side."

They worked together at the chopping block in companionable silence for a short interlude, then Rafael took down a copper saucepan from the overhanging rack and moved to the stove. As she minced a piece of peeled ginger, she watched him mix a chunk of creamy butter with a cupful of pungent sugar from Barbados and put it on the hob to heat. He added the tiny seeds from a pod of vanilla and began stirring. In several moments the room was filled with a mouth-watering fragrance.

"What are you making?"

"A caramel confection. First I melt the sugar and butter and cook it over a low heat until it turns a rich golden brown. Then I'll add the chopped walnuts and let it cool to a toffee-like consistency. Lastly, I—that is, we, assuming you would like to help—will form small balls of the mixture and dip them in melted chocolate."

"That sounds absolutely heavenly."

"There is a reason the Aztecs called chocolate the food of the Gods." He dipped his finger in the simmering sugar, and turning to the table extended his hand. "Here, would you like to try a taste now?"

Perhaps it was the combination of moist heat, heady scents and softly flickering sunlight spilling through the leaded windows that created the irresistible enchantment. Whatever the unseen force, Kyra found herself powerless to resist. She leaned in and flicked out her tongue.

"Mmmm." Closing her eyes, she sighed as she savored the seductive sweetness. A buttery warmth seemed to melt through her limbs, and all at once she felt light as a feather, floating on a sun-kissed tropical breeze.

Oh, wouldn't it be heavenly to always feel so free! Unweighted by careless mistakes...

A light touch of his fingertip to her lower lip brought her out of her reverie. "You must finish the rest. It's too delicious to waste a drop."

Her lids flew open and at the sight of his oh-so sensuous mouth close to hers, Kyra recoiled.

Rafael leaned back, his smile pinching to a look of dismay. A spark of emotion flashed for an instant, turning his smoky blue gaze to a hard-edged sapphirine glitter
. Anger? Or hurt?
The smoldering look that lingered was impossible for her to decipher.

He muttered something in Spanish, then switched to English. "Am I so very repulsive or threatening?" he demanded. "Whenever I get close, you pull away as if... as if I have sprouted horns and cloven hooves."

She drew in a ragged breath, searching her benumbed brain for words to explain.

"Not all men are devils," he added softly.

"It's not
you
," stammered Kyra. "It's
me
."

"You?"

"Yes, me!" She backed up another step. "You are good and honorable, and far too kind to me. I... I don't deserve it."

Rafael's expression softened. "Why don't you let me be the judge of that,
querida
?"

"Because you don't know the truth." A harsh exhale. "Oh, I don't doubt that you've heard the rumors—
all
the rumors."

"
Si
, I have heard them. People have vicious tongues."

"Trust me, they are too kind by half."

"Lady Kyra—"

"Truly they are. I—"

A sudden commotion in the entrance hall cut her off. A door slammed followed by a shout.

"Uncle Aubrey!" Rafael spun around and nearly tripped over Hero, who had been roused by their heated exchange. "He's been looking a little unwell of late." Dodging the gamboling hound, he raced past the pantries and down the corridor.

Kyra threw down her paring knife and ran after him, followed by Hero tagging along at her heels.

The wall sconces flickered wildly, casting dark-fingered shadows across the wainscoting. The noises grew louder—a jumble of voices as housekeeper and butler tried to talk at once.

Fearful that the earl had indeed been stricken ill, Kyra quickened her pace. Word was that he had been suffering from a weak constitution, but she feared the true cause of his ailment was not entirely physical.

Could one pass away from a broken heart?

Turning the corner, she nearly collided with Rafael, who had stopped short in archway. His whole body had gone rigid, as if carved out of steel.

Or ice.
He looked frozen in place.

A clench seized her chest, making it hard to breath, and the voices of the servants seemed to fade to a faraway mumble. Still, she made herself duck around him to see what had happened.

Her gaze swept over the checkered tiles, but instead of finding a body, she saw only a pair of the very worn and very dusty boots.

The housekeeper burst into tears.

Kyra raised her eyes
. Ragged buckskins, none too clean... a tattered coat, whose broad-shouldered bulk only accentuated the painfully thin limbs of the scarecrow wearing it... unkempt hair in dire need of a trim... a topaz twinkle beneath dark wing-shaped brows...

Of all the gentlemen she had met, only one had eyes that exact hue of Baltic amber.

"Dear God in Heaven," she whispered.

"Nay, just a mere mortal, though I daresay I'm only a shade of my former self," replied a familiar voice. "Even so, I was expecting a rather more welcoming homecoming."

Chapter 9

"
Buen día,
cousin." The gaunt face angled toward Rafael, sparks of sunlight gilding the dark stubbled whiskers on the sunken cheeks. "Aren't you going to welcome me back from the dead?"

It
was
Jack. For a long, long moment, he hadn't dared believe it was aught but a fiendish hallucination, brought on by some inexplicable chemistry in the cooking cauldron. But on seeing the faint smile wreath the other man's face, the doubts dissolved.

One—two—three quick strides closed the gap between them and then his arms wrapped around Jack's bony shoulders in a fierce hug. "
Dios mío
! I thought... I searched the battlefield, but I was told..." Rafael's voice caught in his throat as he tightened his hold on his cousin, unashamed of the tears welling up in his eyes.

"Aye, I was told much later that the French searchers had searched the hill first, and after collecting their wounded, buried the dead in a mass grave. I was lucky—a French officer who was still alive had fallen atop me, and as they heard his groans and came to carry him away, they saw my legs twitch and took pity on me."

"Thank God for your having a guardian angel," rasped Kyra, who had taken a few tentative steps closer.

Jack grinned. "Rafael will no doubt insist it was his grandmother, Dona Maria, who was looking out for me. And it may well be. As a boy, I was always a little in awe of her magical powers."

"Whatever force of the cosmos, I shall offer up my fervent thanks." A pause. "And a cup of frothed Spanish chocolate as a sacrificial libation."

"I would rather you gave the chocolate to me," quipped Jack. "Given all your stories of cacao's healthful nourishing powers, I could use a cup or two."

"You'll have potfuls of hot chocolate, and I shall also stuff you with cacao confections made with butter and nutmeats." Aware of his cousin's jutting ribs and withered muscles, Rafael loosened his embrace and gruffly added, "You need to put some meat on your bones."

"Confections?" Jack raised a ragged brow. "Does that mean your grandmother's journals did contain recipes—"

"Never mind that now." As the initial shock subsided, Rafael suddenly had a myriad questions bubbling up in his brain. "Why the devil didn't you write to let us know you were coming? Uncle Aubrey..."

Thank God the earl had not witnessed the door being opened to the ghostly apparition.
His heart might not have survived the shock.

"I take it my letter didn't arrive." His cousin slanted a look at the still-weeping housekeeper, though her tears were now watering a joyful smile. "My apologies for giving you all such a fright. Had I known you had received no advance warning of my arrival, I would not have appeared like some specter from the Underworld." A shrug, which set the oversized coat to fluttering like the wings of a bat against his dusty boots. "My father..."

"Your Father is working in his study. I had better be the one to inform him of the joyous news," said Rafael quickly. "Seeing your phiz—especially in its current state—might put
him
in the grave instead of you."

"Come, let us await him in the drawing room," rasped Kyra as she placed a tentative hand on Jack's arm. "You ought not be on your feet." To the butler she added, "Please bring tea and some sustenance."

"Tea," murmured Jack. "I've missed that good English brew." A wry smile. "Along with a number of other things."

As his cousin allowed himself to be led away, Rafael turned and hurried down the corridor, trying to compose the appropriate words to tell a father that his dead son had come back to life.

Miracles do happen.
The brutal realities of war had shattered many idealistic illusions he had had about life. But a moment like this one reaffirmed that a bright, pure light could penetrate even the blackest shroud of darkness.

A smile playing on his lips, Rafael knocked softly on the study door, then slowly eased it open.

"Forgive me for interrupting, Uncle Aubrey, but I have some news to share you with."

"Hmm?" Hendrie looked up from his book and the untidy pile of scribbled notes with a vague squint. "Oh, no apologies are necessary. An excuse to abandon this passage of Pindar is most welcome. It's deucedly difficult to translate ancient Greek humor into iambic pentameter." He pinched at the bridge of his nose, then removed his spectacles and polished the lenses on his sleeve before putting them back on. "So, have you discovered some hint of a new species of cacao in Dona Maria's journals?"