ALTHEA
As I stepped through the door of our modest home, my mind was still occupied with the three men I had met earlier. Particularly him. The one with the piercing silver eyes and the brooding presence. Alistair.
I shook my head in frustration, kicking the door shut behind me. Ugh, why am I even thinking about him? I barely knew him, yet here I was, crushing on a complete stranger when I was already set to marry another stranger. The irony wasn't lost on me.
The house was quiet, except for the soft crackling of the fireplace. Only Miguel was home, sitting cross-legged on the rug with a book in hand. He glanced up as I entered.
"Hey," I greeted, setting my bag down on the wooden dining table. "Mum's not back yet?"
Miguel shook his head. "Nope. She said the workload is crazy. She's busy training the person who's going to replace her once we leave."
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "That makes sense. It's a big change for all of us."
Miguel tilted his head, watching me curiously. "You okay? You look… distracted."
Distracted? That was an understatement.
"Just tired," I lied, forcing a smile. "Come on, let's make dinner."
Miguel perked up instantly. "Oh! What are we making?"
"Something simple—meatloaf."
His brows furrowed. "Meatloaf? What's that?"
I smirked. "You'll see."
Rolling up my sleeves, I stepped into the kitchen, the warmth of the space wrapping around me like a comforting embrace. The kitchen wasn't large, but it was well-used, the heart of our home. Herbs hung in bunches from the ceiling, their earthy scent blending with the lingering traces of past meals.
With a flick of my wrist, I conjured the ingredients onto the counter—ground beef, breadcrumbs, eggs, milk, onions, garlic, and a small bowl of spices.
No matter how many times I do this, Miguel is always surprised. "This will never stop being amazing." he said.
I chuckled, grabbing a knife to start chopping the onion. "Glad you think that way."
Miguel leaned against the counter, peering at the ingredients. "So… what do we do first?"
I gestured toward a mixing bowl. "Grab that. We're going to mix everything together."
Miguel did as I asked, setting the bowl in front of me. I tossed in the ground beef, then added the breadcrumbs, finely chopped onions, minced garlic, and a sprinkle of salt and pepper.
"Now, crack two eggs in here," I instructed.
Miguel cracked the eggs, a little too forcefully. The yolks splattered onto the meat, and a few bits of eggshell fell in.
"Oops," he muttered.
I laughed, fishing out the shells. "It's fine. You'll get better with practice."
He grinned. "You always say that, but I think I was born to be an eater, not a cook."
"Well, even eaters should know how to make a decent meal," I teased.
Pouring a bit of milk into the mixture, I rolled up my hands and dug in, kneading everything together. Miguel made a face. "That looks gross."
"It feels gross too," I admitted with a laugh, squishing the ingredients together until it formed a thick, even texture. "But trust me, it's worth it."
Once the mixture was well combined, I shaped it into a loaf and placed it onto a baking tray. With another flick of my hand, I conjured a tomato-based glaze, a blend of ketchup, brown sugar, and mustard, and brushed it over the top.
Miguel watched with wide eyes. "That looks kinda good."
"It will taste even better," I assured him, sliding the tray into the magic oven I made. "Now, while that bakes, we need to make some side dishes."
I paused, considering our options. "How about mashed potatoes and roasted vegetables?"
Miguel pumped a fist. "Yes! I love mashed potatoes!"
I laughed. "Alright, you start peeling these potatoes while I chop the vegetables."
With a wave of my hand, a pile of potatoes appeared before Miguel, along with a peeler. He groaned. "I hate peeling."
I smirked. "You gotta work for the food."
He huffed but got to work, slowly peeling the potatoes. Meanwhile, I grabbed a handful of carrots, zucchini, and bell peppers, slicing them into even pieces. I tossed them into a bowl, drizzling olive oil and seasoning them with rosemary and thyme.
Miguel finished peeling and handed me the potatoes. I cut them into chunks and dropped them into a pot of boiling water. "These need to soften before we mash them."
"Can I do the mashing?" Miguel asked eagerly.
"Of course," I said, ruffling his hair. "Just don't turn them into glue."
While the potatoes cooked, I spread the vegetables onto a tray and placed them into the oven alongside the meatloaf. The aroma was already filling the kitchen—savory, warm, and comforting.
Miguel inhaled deeply. "Okay, now I'm starving."
"Patience," I chided, stirring the potatoes occasionally. Once they were tender, I drained the water and handed Miguel a masher. "Go for it."
He mashed with enthusiasm, chunks of potato flying out of the bowl. I laughed, grabbing some butter and cream to mix in, making the texture smooth and creamy.
"Alright, that's perfect," I said, scooping a spoonful into my mouth. "Mmm. Try it."
Miguel took a bite and his eyes widened. "Whoa. This is so good!"
"Told you," I said smugly.
Just then, the oven timer dinged. I opened the door, and the rich, golden-brown meatloaf sat perfectly on the tray, the glaze caramelized beautifully. Beside it, the roasted vegetables glistened with a slight crispiness on the edges.
Miguel practically drooled. "Okay, this might be the best meal yet."
I set everything on the table, cutting thick slices of meatloaf and plating them with mashed potatoes and roasted vegetables. Miguel eagerly took a bite, his face lighting up.
"This is amazing!" he said through a mouthful.
I smiled, finally taking a bite myself. The warmth of the meal filled me with a sense of comfort—but also bittersweetness.
Because as much as I wanted to enjoy this moment, my mind kept drifting back to Alistair.
And I hated that I wanted to see him again.
Mum came back looking tired. As she ate, I waved my hand, willing a small massager to appear, I placed it on her shoulder and turned it on.
"That feels amazing." She groaned enjoying the feeling. Before I knew it, all three of us had massagers on our backs. Miguel let out a content sigh as he leaned back in his chair, the small massager working on his shoulders. "This is the life," he murmured, closing his eyes.
Mum chuckled softly, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten as she took another bite of the meatloaf. "You always find ways to spoil us, Althea," she said, her voice warm with gratitude.
I smiled, taking another bite of my meal. "Well, you deserve it. Especially after the long day you've had."
AT BELLMERE MANOR
Alistair, William and Jonathan arrived at the gate of Bellmere Manor. and a footman came rushing over as the men got down from their horses.
"May I ask who you are. sirs?" the footman said. standing a few feet away as he stared wide-eyed at the men who looked so tall and shredded. he swore they were deities from the land of the gods. "Do
you... uh. do you have an appointment with Lord Bedford. sirs?"
Aldric said. "I believe we're a week earlier than expected. but Lord Bedford is expecting us."
The footman raised his brows. wondering how the likes of Lord Bedford had a connection to beings that looked so... powerful and overwhelmingly strong. the likes that had seen countless battles.
"Indeed. sir?"
"Alistair Ravenshade, Duke of Northere" Alistair said.
Just as he heard the infamous name. the footman dropped his mouth open and started involuntarily quaking in his boots. He managed to get a hold of himself. however. and uttered. "Al... Alistair Rav...Ravenshade Duke of.... North....ere,sir?"
"Indeed." Williamsaid. "What's the matter. lad? Why have you gone barmy at the sight of Lord Ravenshade? Inform Lord Bellmere immediately of our arrival. We've traveled far and are exhausted."
The footman bowed. "Oh. indeed. sirs. Yes. of course. I must inform the lord..." He clasped his hands together,closed his eyes and prayed for a moment. Then he turned on his heel and started
sprinting toward the manor.
Jonathan shook his head. "And he didn't even bother to invite us in." He turned to Alistair "It's you Alistair. He's afraid of you just like everyone else. The moment they hear your name and meet you face-to-face. they turn nutty with fear."
"The lady Althea was not scared." William reminded them.
Jonathan chuckled. "Indeed. She didn't. which makes her even more of a special case."
Alistair said. "The lady doesn't know who I am. and it's best kept that way. It'll only taint her memories of our encounter if she knows."
The footman returned. and he was not alone. As he sprinted like the devil was after him. there were three other servants. two stablemen and a butler. and they were also racing as if their coats were on fire.
Huffing and puffing from the exertion. the footman said. "I... apologize. my lord. for not... receiving you... properly. Please forgive me."
The others finally caught up and came to a stop. and while puffing they bowed almost to their waists. The butler. Mr. Charles said. "My lord... wel...come to... Bellmere Manor." He finally caught his breath and continued. "Unfortunately. Lord Bellmere is currently busy. Please... allow me to apologize on his... behalf. Meanwhile. please relax and enjoy what Bellmere Manor has to offer in terms of... hospitality."
Alistair said. his voice gruff. "Lord Bellmere is busy?"
The other three servants squirmed at Aldric's intense tone. although Mr. Charles managed to keep himself composed. He was well used to the intense tone and hot temper from serving Lord Bellmere for over forty years. Although Lord Bellmere always made him feel apprehensive and on guard, Lord Ravens hade on the other hand, all he felt for the man was respect.
He cleared his throat and said. "Indeed he is, unfortunately. But he will be ready momentarily, My lord."
That was a lie, Lord Bellmere and his family were nowhere near ready, what they were doing at the moment was running around like headless chickens commanding all the servants to make everything tidied for the guests.
And the three ladies are hiding in her room, not wanting to come in contact with Lord Ravenshade. They do not want to be picked by him to be his bride.
"I'm looking forward to meeting with him, then." Alistair said. The stable boys that came out with Mr Charles took the bug stallions to the stable while Mr Charles led the men to the garden where they sat under a gazebo.
The tension in the air was thick as Alistair, William, and Jonathan settled under the grand gazebo in the garden. The once serene and well-manicured space now felt charged with an unspoken weight, as if the very air bristled with their presence.
The maids who came to serve them struggled to keep their hands steady as they poured tea into delicate porcelain cups, the fine china rattling against the saucers. William reached out to take his cup, his lips twitching in mild amusement at their nervousness.
"You'd think we were here to wage war rather than have tea," he mused, taking a slow sip.
Jonathan smirked, stretching his long legs. "Well, we do have that effect on people. Can't blame them, really."
Alistair, however, remained silent, his silver eyes scanning the manor grounds with quiet intensity. His thoughts drifted unwillingly back to her—to Althea. The way she had looked at him earlier, unafraid, her eyes brimming with curiosity rather than terror. It was unusual. Unexpected. And it unsettled him more than it should have.