*As she stepped inside, kicking her shoes to the small mat by the door, she lifted her nose to sniff at the air. She was a lucky woman, Turstin preferred to do most of the cooking as he claimed she was a horrid cook. That suited her just fine, as she truly was awful at it. Something delicious filled the hall with the scent of spices as she detoured to the kitchen to sample whatever he had sitting on the stove. Some kind of soup. Stew. Sauce. She wasn't sure, but the taste exploded on her tongue, making her moan in appreciation. So very good. Now, where was her wayward mate?* Turstin?