Do you ever wonder what characters would cook if they got
into the kitchen? I sometimes do, because often I find I’ve written an entire
book, or read an entire book, and the characters have been too busy doing…um…other stuff to actually make an entire
meal. Strange, really, in the case of my own writing since I’m a devote foodie!
With that in mind, Foodie Friday was born.
Sometimes it’ll just be a recipe I particularly like, or
maybe some strange food fact I’ve come across. On occasion you’ll find a short
story involving a character from my or other author’s books getting crazy in
the kitchen. Foodie Friday is about the love of food, in all its forms, so come
back often for a little taste!
This week I got to thinking about how food has been used in
some of my books, what it says about the character’s thought patterns. Below is
a scene from my Samhain Publishing release, Breaking Free, showing how my
heroine Claire attempts to use food to set the hero Xavier at ease, but things
don’t work out quite the way she expected. It’s a little longer than my usual
posts, but I hope you enjoy it.
The doors at the end of the corridor stood open, light
pouring out to pool on the passage floor. It surprised him for some reason, but
no more than the transformed room itself.
The bed had been hung with deep blue velvet curtains which,
closed, seemed to shut it off from the rest of the room. The wall next to it
had also been draped in the rich fabric and he now wondered if it was there
perhaps to conceal a window. Plush jewelled-toned rugs had been scattered about
the room and flowers bloomed from vases set amongst candelabra, which cast a
warm, golden light. Some of the furniture had been uncovered, a chest of
drawers, end tables, two large overstuffed chairs. But there were also some
strangely shaped objects pushed back against the wall, still covered and
remaining hidden from view.
A fire blazed cheerfully in the fireplace and a large rug
lay before the hearth, a comfortable distance from the flames. Set out on it
was a feast. Xavier stepped further into the room, his hand going out to run
lightly across the top of a cabinet, taking in the comfortable warmth of the
atmosphere she had created. He turned to find her watching him and smiled his
delight.
“This is wonderful.”
He sensed relief behind her answering smile and was amazed
to realize his response meant so much to her. Preceding him to the picnic she
lowered herself gracefully to the rug but he felt her watching him as he
wandered slowly about the room. Running the velvet of the bed hangings through
his fingers, touching the silky petal of a blood-red rose, he explored the
space, orienting himself, absorbing the sensual atmosphere. Even stronger grew
his feeling a metamorphosis was about to occur, and yet there was no fear, only
curiosity and eagerness. Finally, he joined her on the rug and she gestured to
the food.
“Please, help yourself.”
He turned his attention to it and found an interesting and
tempting array of dishes, both savoury and sweet. Small puffs of filled pastry,
thin slivers of ham and chicken on rounds of bread, a dish with pink prawns and
another with oysters on the half shell, strawberries and grapes and rosy
apples, sweetmeats and chocolates and tiny cakes all sat side-by-side. He was
not sure where to begin, until his eyes fell on the silver bucket and the
bottle within. Removing it, he poured glasses of the amber wine for them both.
As he handed her one of the crystal vessels she asked, “What
did you do today?”
“Thought about you.”
She laughed and took a sip of wine, her eyes twinkling over
the rim of the glass. “Surely not all day?”
Reaching for a grape and popping it into her mouth, she
raised her eyebrows at him.
“Yes, all day—although I was able to get one or two other
thoughts into my head in between.”
He ate one of the pastries as she shook her head at him.
“Come now, Xavier, tell me what you did today. Start at the beginning.”
Taking a prawn, she gently nibbled at it, listening to his
answer.
“I awoke thinking of you. Went for a ride in the park,
hoping to see you walking there, and thought about you some more. Having spent
the rest of the morning thinking about you, I repaired to my club for luncheon,
where I thought about you some more.”
She was laughing, the sound making him grin in return.
“I understand, then, you spared me a passing thought
throughout the day?”
“Oh, one or two, swiftly dismissed from my mind.”
Claire pouted, just a little, but her eyes sparkled
mischievously. Did she think he was flattering her?
“I thought about you in my study, where by rights I should
have been thinking about my business affairs but, realizing the futility of my
efforts to concentrate, I went and spent the afternoon in the nursery, having
tea and playing with my son.”
He reached for a grape, hesitated and then chose a plump
strawberry from the platter instead. The deep red fruit would be beautiful
against her peachy lips.
“Do you often spend the afternoon in the nursery?”
Her voice was soft and low, but when he looked at her, her
eyes told him nothing, although a small smile still played about her lips.
Using a paring knife to hull the berry, working precisely and gently, he kept
the fruit firm and un-bruised, losing only one drop of juice, which oozed out
along the blade of the knife.
“I have not, in the past. But today I decided I will be
doing so more often in the future.”
“Why?”
The quiet intensity behind the single word made him almost
afraid to look at her, although he could not fathom the reason for his
reluctance. He raised his eyes long enough to offer her the berry, watched her
lips open and receive the fruit, his groin tightening as it disappeared. Then
he reached for an apple and began to pare it. When he glanced up at her again,
she was watching his hands.
Claire awaited his reply to her query and watched,
entranced, as Xavier’s long, nimble fingers turned the fruit, removing the skin
in one long string with a series of smooth strokes.
“I would like to believe myself a ready pupil, and found
myself thinking about the necessity of knowing oneself so as to be able to
bring the greatest pleasure to others. It came to me it does not only have to
refer to sensual pleasures but could also encompass simple ones too. My son,
Quinton, means the world to me, and I would derive as much enjoyment from
having him in my life as I possibly can.”
“Have you not done so before today?”
His fingers jerked slightly, severing the peel prematurely.
Without hesitation, he picked up where he had left off.
“No, not really. I had as a model my own father who never
came near the nursery unless forced or we needed to be punished. I made a habit
of seeing Quinton for a little each afternoon, but never just to spend time and
play with him.”
He sliced the end from the apple and then gently cut it in
two and began to remove the core. Claire was glad his focus remained on the
chore so he missed the way she blinked to push back tears.
“What did you play with him today?”
His smile was self-deprecating, eyes still intent on the
fruit in his hand.
“He is only a baby, little more than a year old, and I must
confess at first I was not sure what to do with him. But I quickly found he
dictated the activities. Quinton seems to like to hear my voice, enjoys
clapping his hands, riding horsy on my boot.” His smile widened, eyes far away,
although he did not abandon the task at hand. “I believe he will be a fine
horseman one day, his carriage was superb.”
She laughed breathlessly, the sound catching his attention
and causing him to glance up. Suddenly there was a new air in the room, a
darker, warmer breath moving along and into her skin, deepening her longing. He
shifted, as though he felt it too.
“Go on.”
Her prompting brought him back to the present, but he
continued to gaze at her for a moment more before continuing.
“I read to him when he became fussy and he dozed off in my
lap. That is all.”
He held a piece of the apple out to her and Claire reached
out her hand, placing it beneath his rather than taking the fruit. Slowly
caressing, brushing his knuckles, she hooked her little finger on his, drawing
his hand closer and closer to her lips.
“Eve offered Adam the fruit of the tree of knowledge,
reputed to be an apple. How interesting you offer me the same, Xavier.”
He stared at their hands, and then raised his eyes, focusing
on her lips. She allowed them to part slightly, as though ready to take the
morsel. However, as the piece of apple came to her mouth, she licked it, using
just the tip of her tongue. Opening her mouth a fraction more, she slowly ran
her mouth along the fruit to his fingers. The first touch on his hand made him
shiver. When she closed her lips over the side of his index finger, sliding
down to the base and then insinuating her tongue between it and the middle one,
he drew in a shuddering breath.
Claire watched him through her lashes, seeing the way his
eyes darkened, listening to the roughness of his breathing. She had learned
almost too much about him tonight for her peace of mind. How very much she
wanted him now, at this very moment, while the tenderness of his voice as he
spoke of his son still echoed in her ears. It was only too appropriate he
offered her an apple, for the teacher had, to this point, learned as much as
the student. But she would, should, must bring the balance of power back to centre.
“I have something to show you, Xavier, and I think you will
like it.”
