Page 92 of An Inconvenient Vow

“Perhaps the best thing to do would be to make groups of furniture for the different rooms,” Sabina suggested, feeling rather daunted by the task in front of her.

Jeffree gave a nod and lifted his voice, “Listen men!” he began. “This is how we are going to do this.”

It took hours getting everything organized and even longer getting it all set up. Sabina was convinced up until the very end that Jeffree’s huge bed was not going to fit even into the largest of the bedrooms. As it was, they did manage to wedge it in there, though there were scraped walls on both sides and the only way to get into it was to climb over the bottom of it.

“I told you it would fit,” Jeffree said.

“Whoever has to make it up will not thank you,” Sabina replied. He shrugged. Clearly, as it would not be him, he hardly cared. “A trunk at the foot of the bed is not a good idea. It will just be an obstacle to climb over,” she added.

“The room next door will have to suffice for a dressing room. Put the trunks in there,” he answered and, seeing Sabina’s hesitation, asked, “What?”

“The room next door was originally mine.”

He said nothing for a moment and Sabina felt her face grow warm. “Where did you sleep last night?” he asked at last. Clearly, he had seen the cot set up in the main bedroom.

“Where did you?” Sabina retorted before she could stop herself.

He narrowed his eyes. “You know where. I told you when I left.”

Sabina shrugged a shoulder and scuffling feet in the hallway heralded the arrival of the first of the large carved chests.

“Take it in the room next door,” Jeffree directed loudly. “Along with the large, mirrored glass and the two matching cabinets. That room will be our dressing room.” He lifted a challenging brow at her, but Sabina averted her gaze.

Our dressing room? Her heart thudded. So, he did mean to make Morecotte his home?

At midday, Penny set out a hearty pottage with beans and peas, four fresh loaves, and a large game pie. Everyone sat around the oak trestle table which had arrived that morning. On either end, it bore the De Crecy crest with its black tree on a white field. The benches they drew up to it did not match, for they were painted green and a little scuffed, though still handsomely made.

Once the trenchers had been emptied, Sabina was borne off to the kitchen to examine the strawberry pies Penny had made for the duke’s impending visit. They were excellent, the pastry flaky and flavored with thyme. Penny had also added a curd of lemons to the fruit filing which Sabina felt was sure to go down well with the duke who she had noticed had a small and fussy appetite, quite different to his nephew’s.

Indeed, when Jeffree tried a small bite of one, he pulled such a face that Sabina hurried him out of the kitchen before he could wound Penny’s feelings. “Do not, for goodness sake, say anything derogatory about those excellent tarts, Jeffree!”

She swept him back into the now-empty dining chamber for the workers had returned to fetch the few remaining items from the carts. These consisted of smaller items that had not been assigned to a room, such as individual carved tables and straight back chairs covered in leather and a quantity of rugs and cushions.

“There was a strange aftertaste to those small pies,” he complained. “Though the pottage and bread she cooked were very flavorful.”

Sabina rolled her eyes. “Has anyone ever told you that you lack self-awareness to an almost alarming degree?”

He looked affronted. “What do you mean by that?”

“I do not know how to tell you this tactfully, but the fact is that you, Sir Jeffree de Crecy, have unrefined tastes!”

“What are you talking about?”

“That deep down, under all that posturing and swank, you prefer plain, honest food on your tongue and plain, honest women in your bed!”

He gazed at her a moment, his eyes bright and fierce and then he was crowding into her. “What the hells are you talking about now?” he demanded. “I know what I like and there’s nothing plain or honest about it! And there’s no ‘women’ to speak of, either! There’s only one woman in my bed and she’s a sharp-tongued scold that I cannot get enough of!”

Sabina huffed indignantly but had no chance to make a reply for he had seized her and claimed her mouth in a possessive and all-consuming kiss of teeth and tongue.

“A scold?” Sabina panted in outrage, at last tearing her mouth from his. “I am no such thing!”

He backed her against the wall. “Beautiful, then.”

“I am not that either!” Sabina objected, twisting her head to escape his seeking mouth.

“To me you are,” he growled. Sabina was so disconcerted by this claim that she forgot to struggle for the next minute or so and Jeffree used that to his full advantage. By the time a knock on the door disturbed them moments later, she was a disordered mess, her veil wrenched crooked and her braids half unraveled by Jeffree’s questing fingers.

As for he, one hand was clamped at the back of her neck and the other was squeezing her breast through her dress. Sabina gasped as Jeffree flung back his head to roar, “Who is it?”