Rain tapped softly against the windows of Ashford Manor.
For once, the house felt warm.
Not because of the fireplaces.
Because of the people in it.
Liora had spent the evening helping Mrs. Agnes bake lemon tarts.
Or, more accurately, trying to help.
The kitchen looked like a flour explosion.
"How did you get flour on the ceiling?" Mrs. Agnes asked.
Liora stared upward.
"I genuinely don't know."
A familiar voice spoke from the doorway.
"Should I be concerned?"
They turned.
Caelan stood there, loosened tie, sleeves rolled up, looking far too handsome for someone walking into a disaster zone.
His gaze moved from the ruined counter to Liora's flour-covered cheek.
Then he laughed.
Actually laughed.
Not the small polite smile she was used to.
A real laugh.
Liora pointed a wood
