Page 82 of An Inconvenient Vow

Not caring for the implication that she had exhausted him, he grudgingly dragged himself across the room and took her place at the basin as Sabina made her way back to the bed. When they passed each other, he had to quell the impulse to catch her in his arms again. Jeffree gave his head a quick shake. He needed to nip these impulses in the bud.

Still, he rushed through the most perfunctory of washes and hurried back to take his place beside her in the bed. After the briefest of hesitations, he curled his arm around her, drawing her in close to his side.

Sabina sighed. “That’s nice,” she uttered sleepily before lapsing once more into silence.

Nice? Not the word Jeffree would have chosen. “Sabina?” He paused, but there was no response. “Aren’t we supposed to exchange some words now?” he asked uncertainly. She had said so last time, though it had not gone well.

He heard a rustle and felt her head move in a vehement shake of her head. “Gods no,” she murmured. “Let us not go down that route again. It will spoil the moment.” He opened his mouth to protest when he felt her reach up to pat his arm. “All is well. Let us sleep now, husband.” She yawned again and he was not surprised when a few minutes later he heard the faint snore in the darkness.

He really ought to roll her off onto her side, Jeffree reflected. If memory served, that prevented the phenomena. He had always barged into his old master’s room and shoved a boot against Sir Hereward’s shoulder to turn the old sot when his snores grew loud enough to disturb the rest of his household.

To Jeffree’s surprise, he found he did not have the heart to disturb Sabina’s slumber. In any case, despite everything that had passed between them, he still did not have words he was confident would please her. Instead, he listened to her snuffles a while, realizing they were actually a source of comfort to him. He lay there, thinking over everything they had shared in the hope it could shed some light on what he was supposed to say to a wife that pleased you inordinately in your bed.

There had been that odd business about her belly button, he thought frowning into the darkness as he reviewed it in his mind. He had not led a sheltered life exactly, despite his godfather’s strict sobriety and his uncle’s fastidiousness. It was not as if he had been raised exclusively in their households.

It was more that he had chosen to turn a deaf ear to ribald talk and the many lewd jokes that had been spoken around him over the years. He had chosen a different path to most of his fellow knights, one of abstinence. He had curled his lip and risen above their baseness when they were drunk and frequently coarse at table.

Now his brain groped and actively sought out the bits and pieces he had stopped his ears against for so long. Slowly, he recalled the many boasts of old Sir Hereward about his many conquests and the tales of the low company he had kept as they bragged about their amorous escapades. Something clicked into place.

She had never had a tongue in her cunny. That was what she had meant. When his chest began to burn, Jeffree realized he needed to start breathing again. He gulped in the sweet night air and tried to quiet his racing heart, which was thudding so loud in his breast, she would surely hear it.

He glanced down in the darkness but had to make do with the feel of her beneath his arm, all curvy and warm. He wanted to do that for her, with his mouth between her legs. What would she taste like? What noises would she make for him? Would she sigh or gasp and moan? When she said his name, would she cry it with a scream or choke it brokenly as he sought out her precious bud with the tip of his tongue?

He had to swallow and take a deep breath to quiet his rampant thoughts and cease the tumult they caused in his rapidly stiffening cock, the throb in his ballocks. It was strange, for as a squire, hearing of such things, he had thought they sounded lewd and depraved. Of course, he had not known intimacy then, the pleasures of the marriage bed. Just as well, or his self-imposed chastity would have been well-nigh impossible.

Or would it though? He could not imagine salivating at the idea of paying such attentions to any other woman save Sabina. The vague and faceless female forms he had always imagined at dead of night when he had stroked himself to completion had never made him shout aloud or pass out from sheer mind-numbing satisfaction.

Never before had he felt that intense physical longing for another person. He had certainly never wanted to please a woman and win her good opinion. Was this…? He balked at the realization looming before him. He wanted her to love him, but his feelings needed to remain aloof from such things. Feminine weakness was permissible in certain spheres of life, whereas a man was wise to rise above such things.

It was not becoming for Jeffree de Crecy to become some lovesick churl, trailing around after his wife like some prating fool, begging for her favor. He felt himself turn hot then cold all over. If he was not careful, he would become a figure of ridicule instead of admiration. All he had strived for in life, his noble reputation, spotless and without flaw, crushed beneath her heel.

People would laugh behind their hands at him. There goes De Crecy, they would say. Oh, how the mighty have fallen! See how his wife flouts and cusses him, and all he can do is clutch at her skirts, poor wretch!

Gods, he needed to make her love him before he made a complete ass out of himself!

17

Sabina woke suddenly in the early hours and found she was lying on her stomach next to Jeffree, her hand resting with great familiarity on his chest. She was not terribly surprised by this, for her new husband was an uneasy sleeper, frequently flinging blankets around and turning over. At some point in the night, presumably, she had decided to try pinning him in place.

In truth, she could not complain about his restlessness for a bedpartner. She had startled herself awake not long after midnight, mid-snore. For a moment, she had lain disoriented and horrified that she could have made such a noise, then she had hurriedly rolled onto her side and hoped Jeffree had not realized his wife was so uncouth.

She lay a moment now, making out his relaxed profile in the dim light before carefully moving to lift her hand away. To her astonishment, her hand was firmly captured by his and replaced on his lightly furred chest. Sabina swallowed her instinctive exclamation, her gaze flying to Jeffree’s face, but his eyes remained closed.

Was he asleep or merely resting his eyes? He kept his own hand atop of her own to hold it where it lay. After a moment, Sabina set her head back on the pillow bearer and closed her own eyes. It could not be much after five in the morning, and clearly, he was in no hurry for them to be on their way.

When next she woke it was to birdsong, and light was streaming through the window. Quickly turning her head, she found Jeffree propped up on one elbow, gazing down at her with a furrowed brow. Had she been snoring again? She sat up hastily, clearing her throat. “Did I oversleep?” She fussed with the neckline of her shift to check it was decent and spare his blushes.

“No,” he answered grudgingly. “I would have woken you if you had.”

Thinking he sounded a little surly, she swung her legs out of the bed, then almost jumped out of her skin at the knock on the door. It proved only to be a servant with hot water for them and Sabina made haste to get washed and dressed.

She felt skittish around him this morning and strangely apprehensive. Would he attempt to be agreeable again today or would he revert once more to haughty disdain? Yesterday, he had certainly been on his best behavior, and she had appreciated his efforts. For a while, they had even made her feel optimistic about the future they faced.

If Jeffree could find it in him to be agreeable, then these early days of marriage would certainly pass much easier. Then, when he inevitably grew tired of her, their lives could separate smoothly and without resentment. The process had been difficult with Miles because she had imagined an initial affection there that had not existed. She had thought he owed her things like loyalty and faithfulness, and he had not agreed.

With Jeffree it was different, she told herself firmly. They did not like each other. Well, she cast a sidelong look at him as he buttoned his tunic, perhaps that was not strictly true. She had started to think of him with a sort of… wry affection, she realized uneasily. Was that something she should be worried about? Petting his chest in her sleep was likely not a habit she should indulge herself in. Then again, she had not knowingly done it. She pinned the swathes of her wimple in place and examined herself in front of the tiny, mirrored glass before letting her gaze slide over her shoulder to where Jeffree was sat pulling on his boots.

If she did not actively dislike him, at least she did not imagine herself to be in love with him. Such a course of action would be disastrous. Imagine falling in love with an arrogant beast like Sir Jeffree de Crecy! A woman would have to be an absolute fool to succumb to such an impulse. She did not imagine for one moment that Meliora had nurtured any such tender feelings in her bosom.