In one such scene, she introduces the hero, Michael, to the real way to enjoy Lemon Syllabub -- a delicious treat popular from the Elizabethan era and forward.
So I thought I would share an excerpt and a recipe, for those with a sweet tooth like mine. :)
from James Martin: Yorkshire's Finest
250ml double cream
2 Lemons, zest and juice
6 tbsp Mascarpone
6 tbsp lemon curd
4 tbsp icing sugar
4 sprigs Mint, fresh, to decorate
1. Whip the double cream until it forms soft peaks.2. Beat the lemon zest and juice, mascarpone, lemon curd and icing sugar together until smooth.
3. Fold the whipped cream into the mixture until thoroughly combined.4. Spoon into individual dessert glasses and decorate each with a sprig of mint.
Excerpt ~@~ SOMETHING ABOUT HER
The noise came from the kitchen ahead of him.
Perhaps Thomas was getting some food? Could he actually be here, right under Michael’s nose?
Sure of his steps now, he strode down the center of the hallway into the kitchen. The room was large, but Michael followed the stream of light toward the right side.
A very delightful backside wrapped in a dressing gown presented to him.
“Blythe.” What was she doing here?
“Oh!” Blythe squeaked and swirled her head around. “Your Grace!” Whatever she held in her hand clattered to the floor.
Michael strode toward her and bent to pick it up just as she did. His hand covered hers, and with his left, he grabbed the spoon upon the floor.
Together, they stood up. Michael held the spoon out to her, but she stood there, grasping the ends of her dressing gown tightly around her.
He peered past her in bemusement. A glass full of something frothy sat on the counter. “Whatever are you doing?”
“I—” she started then stopped. “What are you doing here?”
He leaned forward, close enough to her that he could smell the freshness of her hair and dropped the spoon onto the counter with a clack.
He dipped a finger into the froth and brought it to his mouth. “Sweet.”
“Lemon syllabub,” she muttered. “From tonight’s dessert.” She grabbed the spoon and with a glare at him, walked to the sink and set it in. She opened a drawer and pulled out another.
He frowned. “You certainly know your way around the kitchen.”
“I know where the desserts are,” she replied with a smile and a shrug. “I have a fondness for sweets.”
“In the middle of the night?”
She laughed. “That, my lord, is the best time of all for sweets.”
His gaze dipped to her mouth and he imagined the tart sweetness of the lemon-flavored dessert would taste sweet on her.
She grasped her dressing gown tightly again. “I should go upstairs. This is highly improper.”
He was reluctant to let her leave. He couldn’t say why he did not want her to go. He just knew he didn’t.
“I did not have dessert.”
She cocked her head. “Perhaps if you had spent more than a handful of minutes over your food, you might have enjoyed it more.”
He met her eyes with his own. “Share with me.”
“All right.” She turned around and grasped the parfait glass. Reaching into the drawer again, she drew out another spoon. Holding them aloft, she walked toward the center block table that had stools pushed up to it.
Idly, Michael wondered if his kitchen had places to sit. “Why would one sit in the kitchen when the dining room has perfectly good chairs?”
She lifted an eyebrow. “I imagine you could not describe your kitchen to me at all.” She set the parfait and spoons on the table and reached over to light the set of candles.
He blinked as light illuminated them into a cozy circle. “Why should I? I have no need of going in there.”
She shook her head and pulled out a stool. “Don’t you ever get hungry when no one is around?”
He sat in the other stool. “No.”
Blythe laughed. “You control your hunger to appropriate times. How unsurprising.”
Michael frowned. “I do not see the problem with maintaining proper meal times.”
She grabbed a spoon and ladled a large bit of froth onto it. With a happy sigh, she opened her mouth and took it in.
Lust awoke deep in his gut.
She pushed the other spoon at him. “Have some.”
He took the spoon and dipped it into the cup. Bringing it back, he swallowed the whipped tart.
She stared at him. “You did not even enjoy that, did you?”
“Of course I did.”
She shook her head. “No, you didn’t. You just ate it as if it were necessary. That, Your Grace, completely ruins the point of enjoying a sweet.”
“There is a point?” If she had one to make, he certainly couldn’t see it.
“Did you not ever partake of sweets as a child? Just because?” she asked as she dipped in for another bite. She, unlike him, apparently reveled in the taste.
He lifted a shoulder. “There was nothing much enjoyable about being a child.”
Read more of Blythe and Michael : Read Chapter one at my website
Print: Amazon.com BN.com
eBook: The Wild Rose Press
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