Winsome sipped at the hot drink, his wrinkled mouth puckered up like a dog's backside. Lizzy watched his expression, her breath held like captive bees in her throat. For the longest moment, his face remained impassive as he swilled the drink back and forth. Then he swallowed and a satisfied smile flitted across his lips before he could stop it.

"You say this is made from the green egg I brought back?" he asked eventually. She nodded. "And you can make more with what you have?"

"Perhaps another two or three cups, my lord."

He nodded. "This is acceptable. I will have more shipped here in the coming months. Well done, chef -- this is the standard I expect."

She almost skipped on her way back to the kitchen. At last, she'd managed to please the sour old bugger! The problem was, without any more of the ingredient, she was at a loss for what else to serve up. For two days, she held Winsome's interest by following Darren's 'mash it' advice -- one day serving a carrot puree and the next a turnip paste along with meat. By the third day, though, things were looking desperate. The lord now expected interesting meals every day but Lizzy was out of ingredients and ideas.

It was rapidly approaching time to serve when Darren strolled casually back into her kitchen, acting for all the world as though he'd never left. He wore the same blue leggings, this time with a blue jerkin so bright she thought the sky might get jealous. He was carrying a small sack across one shoulder.

"How's things, love?" he asked, gesturing his hand in the air.

She smiled despite being unsure if she wanted to kiss or hit him. "You are real."

"I hope so," he said, winking, and she felt herself flush. "Here, I brought you some things. After last time, I thought you'd like some new ingredients." He upended the sack onto one of her surfaces, disgorging a multi-coloured collection of shapes. "There's some vegetables you'll not have seen before, some fruit, exotic cheeses and some secret weapons."

She blinked. "You brought weapons?"

"Flavour weapons." He grinned, holding up two pots with garish designs emblazoned on them. "Got you some pickle and a jar of barbecue sauce. They can make boring food taste interesting -- you'll see." He peered at her expression. "What's the matter, sweet cheeks?"

She flushed again as she gestured at the goods. "It is wonderful that you have returned, but I must serve a meal in short order, and I do not have time to prepare any of these new ingredients like I did with the cacao."

"No problem." He grabbed a serrated knife from her collection. "If you have bread, I can whip you up something he's never seen before in a London minute."

"What is a London minute?"

He grinned. "We just wasted one, now let's go!"


*****


"It's called a sarny, my lord."

"Bloody stupid name for it." He clutched the meal awkwardly in both hands, balancing it upright as though he thought the sliced cheese and vegetables would fall out from between the bread. Lizzy admitted inwardly, for the first time, she actually sympathised with Lord Winsome. She'd watched Darren compiling the meal and decided he was actually a madman. Only time would tell if she was about to poison her employer, but a little devil at the back of her thoughts didn't care -- it just wanted to sit back and enjoy the show.

His jaw opened wide with an audible creek, brown teeth parting wet company, and he placed the sarny between them. For several moments, she watched him eat in obvious pleasure before a line of seedy dribble escaped the corner of his mouth and her stomach turned. He seemed to have forgotten she was there, so she took that as her cue to leave.

She rushed as quickly as she deemed polite through the castle, plunging through the kitchen entrance with joy suffusing her chest and throat.

"It worked!" she said, and then ran headlong into a kiss from her strange visitor. His arms, open and waiting for her, folded across her back as momentum carried their forms together. Shock made a brief nod toward outrage in her mind but was swamped by the warm rapture of his lips. Her hands, having stiffened at the initial shock of his daring, found themselves defining the shape of his back.

He slid his grip down until his hands melted into the curves at the back of her hips.

Her breath burst from her nose, mingling with a hot rush from his as their lips slid together, malleable to moist pressure but firm in their attachment. His mouth felt like satin fire on a bed of plump rose petals. Eyes closed, Lizzy lost herself in the passion of subtle friction and the shared taste of excitement. When his tongue slipped forth and slipped alongside hers, clouds of blossom burst in her consciousness and all the cares of life diffused into a pink blanket of natural bliss.

She didn't notice when they stopped kissing, but some time later they sat on kitchen stools and melted into one another's gaze.

"Oh my," she whispered, feeling a shudder deep inside.

"I've been wanting to do that since I first saw you." His eyes were subtle beauty, tinted with just enough wisdom. He reached a hand forward to stroke hers and the tingle of his touch set her heart buzzing.

She took a breath and fairies danced on it, all the way to the centre of her chest. "This is but a dream, offered cruelly by the lord of lies. Such happiness is not for the likes of me."

He smiled. "If it's a dream, love, we're sharing it."

"Why do you always call me love?"

"Where I come from, it's a general friendly term of reference for someone you like. It began like that with you, but I think it quickly became more."

A thought tore through her like an ice pitchfork. "You make everything better, Darren. You are my hearth and my heart. If you do not return again, I will be lost forever."

"Is everyone here as melodramatic as you?" His words might have been reproachful if not for the playfully gentle way he spoke them. "I've got a lot more to show you than hot chocolate and a cheese and tomato sandwich. I'll have to leave soon, but I'll return -- on that you can rely."

They spent some time going through the other ingredients he'd brought, him advising on what went well with the food she already had available. Some things -- notably the containers with bright etchings -- he described as cheats and short-cuts, but others were exotic ingredients he promised came from the earth.

With a final, bliss-soaked kiss, he ran from the kitchen and was gone, but not from her thoughts or her heart.

*****

Over the next weeks, he visited often. Always, he brought new ingredients -- some so bizarre, she couldn't imagine how they were ever conceived of. They'd split their time between cooking and kissing in a way that made Raff's face go bright red. As her knowledge and -- more importantly -- her larder expanded, Lizzy found life at the castle increasingly happy. Lord Winsome even started to smile at meal times. Her confidence grew and soon Lizzy was devising her own dishes from the amazing foods Darren brought her.

He never stayed for very long, always getting to a point where his small black box summoned him away, but she came to understand he'd always return. Slowly but surely, Lizzy fell head over heels in love with her strange, TV chef visitor.

Perhaps that love was apparent, because Raff's face when he approached her after Darren's last appearance was a picture of awkward fear. The boy's face was pastry-white, a picture of trepidation and sobriety.

"What is the matter, Raff?"

"I..." he studied her face for a moment, perhaps deciding whether to continue, and then his mouth pursed with determination. "I saw him leave."

"You followed him?" Her heart felt heavy and part of her didn't want to know, but it was overpowered by curiosity -- Darren always left the room in a hurry when he was going.

Raff nodded. "I watched it happen. He," a tear trickled down the boy's face. "He is not what he says, Miss Lizzy."

"Why Raff, whatever did you see?"

The boy's expression was utterly hopeless. "I am sorry. It is really bad, but you must know."

She knelt down so their faces were at the same level. "Dear Raff, I know you never would hurt me if you had a choice. I'm stronger than I look, I promise. So take a deep breath, swallow, and tell me."

Raff took her advice, his throat constricting visibly, and did as she bade.