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66

Scy glared at her. “You couldn’t find a glass?” He removed the wet pitcher from its precariously balanced position, set it on the floor and wiped at the wet leather with his hand.

“She might be very thirsty.” Leo gave him a cheeky grin.

“Leo, love,” Scy wrapped one arm around her shoulders and escorted her to the curtain. In the crook of his other arm he held the bowl. “Do you see this curtain? Beyond it is my kitchen. I promise not to tell anyone you’ve turned domestic if you go in there and set out a meal for us. You won’t even have to cook; I’ve taken care of everything. Just take out the roast and the vegetables, warm them, and set out a few plates. Can you do that?” Again his words were mild,

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