‘Yes. Ceps.’
He turned and strode further into the shade of the trees as she hurried to keep up with him.
‘How do I know they’re not going to poison us?’
She had so little faith in him. In anyone, perhaps. He’d work to change that, where he was concerned at least. As for the rest of them? They could wallow in her distrust. No one else was worthy of her anyhow.
‘Because I’ve done this hundreds of times since childhood. You’re the one who’ll try to pick the poisonous mushrooms. I’ll make sure what you choose won’t kill us both.’
He scanned the leaf litter round the trees. Glimpsed the telltale signs under a break in the canopy. Rafe walked up to his prize. Slipped out a knife and cut the stalk. It gave him the same innocent thrill it had as a child when he’d found his first edible mushroom. The simplest of pleasures that even he’d forgotten over years of becoming hard and jaded both at his business and with his country.
He held up the mushroom. Lise smiled and it was like the sun breaking in the middle of the forest. Warm, dazzling. He basked in it.
‘Now it’s your turn,’ he said, handing her the knife.
‘Where do I find one?’
He showed her. Something about Lise here seemed calmer. The lines of stress etched onto her face had smoothed. A tightness relaxed. He suspected the mountains were her place, too. That she felt it as much as he did.
They hunted in silence. He smiled as he watched her. Intent, looking at the ground. She let out a little cheer.
‘This!’ She pointed, then brushed some leaves away like uncovering buried treasure.
He walked up to where she stood, peered at her find. Slapped his hand to his chest and groaned. ‘You’re trying to kill us all.’
Rafe spied the pout on her lips, her disappointment. He laughed. ‘I’m joking. It’s perfect.’
‘Not poisonous?’
‘No.’
She punched him in the shoulder but grinned all the same. Looking young and happy for the first time in weeks. ‘You’re mean.’
‘You do the honours.’ He nodded to the knife and held out the bucket. ‘Then find me some more. We need enough for dinner.’
‘Who’s cooking?’
‘Me.’
She stopped, turned. Looked as if she was seeing him for the first time. ‘You cook?’
‘How else am I going to eat?’
‘I don’t know.’ She shrugged. ‘Restaurants. Private chefs.’
His mother would never have stood for that. She believed her boys needed to learn to feed themselves. He’d fought her attempt to drag him into the kitchen as a teenager, but at least had a few meals in his repertoire.
‘You can’t live on fine dining. Sometimes you want a home-cooked meal.’
He’d never thought he’d need the ability. Yet as Lise looked at him with big, wide eyes in a way that suggested he was somewhat heroic, that simple skill now seemed vital.
She scuffed her feet on the ground. ‘I don’t know what that tastes like.’
‘Then tonight will be full of new experiences for you.’ Her cheeks blushed a fetching shade of pink, leaving him in no doubt what new experiences she had on her mind, and they had nothing to do with food. ‘But before then we need a few more mushrooms.’
He watched as she continued her search, all so he could cook her a simple meal. Her smiles as she found what she was looking for were all for him and the happiness for what he’d shown her. And Rafe wasn’t sure how he’d make it through dinner when all he craved was dessert.
Lise rubbed her hands against her jeans, not completely removing the dirty smudges left by their picking expedition. Their precious cargo stowed safely on the back seat of Rafe’s low-slung sports car, filling the cabin with its earthy smell. There, in that small forest beneath these towering peaks, it was as if she could breathe again. The tight band, a constant round her chest, finally easing. Somehow, it was as if the natural grandeur of the mountains diminished her problems. As if she could almost be happy here. Though how could she be happy when her family were lying cold and dead in a grave?