279: Food for the soul (part 2)

Food for the soul (part 2)

Egon chuckled and moved closer, peeking over her shoulder as she examined the assortment of pots hanging near the sink.2

"First things first," he began, "you'll need the right pot size. Too big, and it'll take an eternity to cook. Too small, and you might find yourself cleaning soup off the ceiling."

Cleaning soup off the ceiling?

Deciding not to ask too many questions about that, Adela nodded thoughtfully, selecting a pot of medium size and filling it with water from the tap. She surveyed the assortment of fresh herbs and vegetables preserved in jars of clear water, a traditional Emorian method.

"Any particular preferences or aversions he has? Foods he loves, or things he can't stand?"

Egon's gaze settled on the carrots and he gave a wry nod. "Those orange villains are his sworn foes."

With a small smile, she pushed the jar of carrots aside. "...And how about you?"

He shook his head lightly. "I eat everything."

She pondered for a moment. "Anything you particularly enjoy then?"

His eyes locked onto hers. "Jasmine tea."

"Food?" She persisted.

He raised an eyebrow, a mischievous grin playing on his lips as he appraised her.

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I'm asking a serious question here!"

He made a clucking sound, as though she had disrupted his playful mood. "Fish."

She rewarded him with an appreciative smile, then took a deep breath and shifted her focus back to the pot. "Noted. What's next?"

Grinning, Egon continued his culinary advice.

"Now, you'll want to add some salt for flavor. Be careful not to overdo it, or you'll end up with seawater soup."

With precision, she measured out the salt and gently sprinkled it into the pot. "How does this look?"

He picked up a spoon, tasting the soup to gauge the salt level before nodding in approval. "Nicely done, My Lady. Now. What kind of soup are we making?"

Adela's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Chicken soup. Good for the soul, they say."

Egon smirked, reaching up to a cupboard and retrieving chicken legs. With a practiced hand, he wielded a knife hanging nearby and chopped the chicken into bite-sized pieces, adding them to the pot.

Adela admired his knife skills. "Impressive blade work, my Lord. Now, let's bring in some more ingredients."

She began with the basics, selecting fresh vegetables and explaining her choices as she went along.

"Celery will give the soup a rich, hearty flavor," she commented as she washed the celery carefully. "And the onions will provide a touch of sweetness."

"…It might be a tad too sweet as it is."

His low, sultry tone sent a shiver down her spine, leaving her throat parched. Who would have guessed that her usually reserved husband could be such a flirt?

Shoving that thought aside, she pressed on, adding garlic and thyme for an aromatic burst of flavor. Her hand then reached for peppercorns to season the broth. As she selected bay leaves, she took a moment to explain their purpose.

"These will infuse the soup with a subtle earthy note," she said, dropping the bay leaf into the pot.

"My wife possesses quite the culinary talents."

Adela blushed at the compliment. "We should stir," she murmured shyly.

"Should we?" he replied in a husky tone.

"The soup...My Lord." She clarified, her cheeks and ears growing even warmer. She cast a quick glance towards the living room where Andreas was still present, subtly implying that they had company.

A mischievous smirk played on his lips as her eyebrow shot up, a defiant glint in his eyes, but she chose to ignore it.

As the chicken soup gently simmered on the stove, Adela stood beside the pot, a wooden ladle in her hand, fully absorbed in the bubbling ingredients, the fragrant steam enveloping her senses. However, her attention was immediately drawn when she felt Egon's approach.

He moved deliberately, encroaching on her personal space, and his warmth radiated onto her back. His hand gently pressed over hers, taking hold of the ladle.

A pleasurable sensation surged through her as she leaned into him, emitting a soft, appreciative hum. Part of her wanted to bring up their earlier argument, to ask him to set aside their differences and work together for solutions. But at the last moment, she decided to turn that page and address Bastian's issue separately.

Their fingers intertwined, his much larger hand fitting perfectly with hers. The gentle clinking of the ladle against the pot created a soothing rhythm, and Adela turned her head slightly to meet Egon's gaze. Her eyes locked onto his, initially filled with intense focus before transitioning into something much more primal.

His voice was a soft caress in her ear as he began, "You know, I never thought that making soup could be like this."

Adela too appreciated this unique moment in the kitchen with him, free from the watchful eyes of servants. but she knew it was a one-time occurrence, as both, Frieda and Grace de Lanark would never approve of her kitchen adventure.

She decided to keep this enthusiastic husband of hers in the dark for now.

A playful smile curled the corners of her lips. "Ah, My Lord, you have yet to experience the true magic of cooking."

His chuckle filled the cozy kitchen. "What is this secret magic?"

Adela leaned in closer, their cheeks nearly brushing as he bent down, their shared warmth making the world around them disappear. "The secret ingredient," she whispered, her breath mingling with his as she remembered her nanny's words, "is love."

Egon's dark, deep-brown eyes sparkled with mischief. "Careful. Our guest has sensitive ears, much like mine."

Wincing at the reminder, Adela moved her arm away from him. But in doing so, Egon inadvertently brushed his hand against the hot pot handle.

"Ouch!" he exclaimed, pulling away in pain and shaking his hand.

Without hesitation, she grabbed his injured hand and led him to the sink. "Let's cool it down!"

As she held his wrist, she sensed the flow of her light surging into him, healing the burn almost instantly.

"Thank you," he murmured, his hand still in hers.

She met his gaze with a tender smile. When it came to Egon, her body often acted before her conscious mind.

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