He kissed her on the nose. "You love my food," he pointed out.

"You love your food," she said. "If I wasn't around to eat it, you'd still be making it."

"No, I wouldn't," Marcello replied. "You don't understand; I like to feed people. I like to eat, too, but it's no fun to cook exciting food for yourself."

"I know you like to feed people. I told you; you are like Meg." She slipped her arms around his waist again. "I must despair you," she said kindly. "I do like it when you cook things for me. It's not the cooking, I promise, it's just that sometimes I forget to eat."

"I know that," Marcello replied, giving her a squeeze. "That's why you have me, because I'll remember to cook for you, and then you'll have to eat. Or grossly offend me."

Niabheara drew away, the very picture of courtesy. "Oh, of course, sir. I should not like to offend." She laughed at him. "We're going to be bickering about this one for years, aren't we?"

"Bickering?" Marcello asked. "If this is bickering, we're going to have a very troubled marriage." He smiled and kissed her cheek. "I am going to be cooking for you for all our days. IF you didn't want that, you shouldn't have married me."

"I don't appreciate food as much as you do, and you don't like horses." She shrugged. "I suppose there are worse things to quarrel about."

"Maybe your horses will appreciate my food?" Marcello offered nicely. "You should show Dareen your horses," he suggested. "That is, when we're a little more certain of what exactly we're doing with her. I think she would like that."

"Acorn is a little shy around horses." Then she caught herself. "Well. Perhaps we can catch her in that stage where girls are mad about horses."