Page 87 of An Inconvenient Vow

Wheels creaked and turned in the dark recesses of his mind. Mayhap, because no one had ever praised him? He dismissed this almost at once. No, that was not true. As heir to the Duke of Bethencourt he had been held to the highest standards, that was all. Their whole family knew the De Crecys were one of the first and most venerated in the land. Still… that was not exactly the same as being praised for your own sake, was it?

He chewed the side of his mouth as he considered this. His mother had not been permitted to raise a child with such high expectations as a dukedom. When he had seen her, they had always been rather formal with one another. No, it was Sir Charles who had molded him, but he could barely remember his guardian’s spouse so insignificant she had seemed. He tried and failed to remember a single interaction between them.

His godfather was a stern and exacting man who expected absolute perfection. That was who he had learned the curt nod from. When Jeffree met Sir Charles’s expectations, he received a curt nod. When Jeffree did not meet Sir Charles’s standards, he had received icy disapproval and disdain. Neither occasion had called for much by way of outward expression.

Sir Hereward, the old knight he had served for four years, had been such a braggart that Jeffree’s achievements had been met only with rivaling tales of his own feats and prowess. Jeffree frowned over this. He should not like to do the same to Jasper and Crispin. Mayhap he should learn how to throw out a word or two of approval?

As for his uncle… Bethencourt had always been rather self-involved. Perhaps most dukes were. Everyone around them sought to please them after all, so it was hardly surprising. Still, he should not like to think of himself being so coddled and detached from the world around him as his Uncle Bevis was.

Darkness was falling by the time Jeffree emerged from his thoughts to see the flickering lights of a hostelry ahead. This time tomorrow they would be home. Home? He meant Morecotte, of course, which was Sabina’s home. As for himself, he had never really had one.

First had been his guardian’s home, then Sir Hereward’s dilapidated hall, then his rooms at Ganford Chase. Even Ganford Chase was more of a stop-gap than anything else, a future home, perhaps, though that was no longer guaranteed. Who knew what his uncle might get up to in the next twenty years.

Jeffree certainly could not be hovering around corners in the hope of preventing pretty girls from catching Bethencourt’s fancy, whatever his mother and Sir Charles might think! He had his own life to live.

Casting an eye over the approaching inn, he was dismayed to see it was a good deal larger than he recalled. Had they extended the property since last year? Suppose Sabina demanded separate rooms?

As it happened, Sabina did not demand separate rooms, but she was inordinately quiet, insisting she was just tired when he commented on it. They supped on cheese and pickled vegetables with crusty bread, a broth of cabbage and leeks with bacon bits, and a creamed haddock. Sabina picked at the food again, much to Jeffree’s displeasure, though Osborn managed to hold his tongue this time.

“You have not eaten enough to hold body and soul together,” he told her sternly as she pushed away the fish dish.

He summoned the landlord and asked what else was on offer before she could tell him not to. Eventually, a custard tart was fetched, and that she deigned to eat. Jeffree sat and watched her eat a large slice of it.

“Satisfied?” she asked pointedly after clearing her plate.

Jeffree, who had been looking at the mole above her top lip, flushed. Hardly. Satisfied was the last thing he felt. He was ravenous, ravenous for his wife. He lowered his guilty gaze and wondered if he should have been the one to request separate rooms. How was he supposed to lie next to her now for ten hours like a starved man at a feast? It was insupportable.

Suddenly, it came to him, a way to get past all this bullshit about praising and courting, things that were beyond his ken. He could simply stop pussy-footing around her and tell the truth, both to himself and Sabina. He was in love with her. She was his wife, so she would simply have to take this fact and deal with it. His shoulders relaxed. Yes, that was the way forward and he was tired of overcomplicating things.

18

Sabina straightened up and moved away from the chair she had been folding her clothes over. “What did you say?” she asked, astonished by the words she thought had just passed her husband’s lips.

“I love you,” Jeffree repeated through gritted teeth, staring at some point past her left shoulder. Sabina could not help but send a fleeting glance over her shoulder at the bare patch of wall, just to check. Finding nothing there to inspire such devotion, she turned back to the irritated man confronting her.

What possible response could she make to such an impossible statement, especially when it was uttered by someone who looked like they would rather pitch her out of the window than kiss her hand? “Perhaps with time, you might find some outward expression of your love that did not involve your penis?” she suggested tartly.

To her surprise, instead of blowing up at this, he frowned and placed his hands on his hips, seemingly considering her words. “Have you any suggestions as to how?” he asked after a moment.

She flung her arms wide. “Oh, I don’t know Jeffree. Maybe look a little less murderous whenever your eye falls on me? You speak now of love, but in truth, you seem barely to tolerate my presence most of the time!”

“That’s a lie!” He scowled.

“Very well then, you make it plain I am welcome in your bed,” she amended.

His face was immediately suffused with hot color. “I—you—” He broke off, shaking his head. “Since we have been wed, I… have not wanted us to part,” he pointed out defensively. “I missed your presence at Areley Kings. I may not have told you so, but you must have seen I was relieved to reunite with you.”

Sabina frowned. Where was all this coming from? “I thought being dragged in your wake was all part of your elaborate plan of being revenged on me.”

“My being revenged?” he retorted indignantly. “What of your revenge on me? You will accept none of my gifts. Will scarcely allow me to provide for you! How am I supposed to show my regard when you prevent me at every turn? I have not even seen you wear that family heirloom my mother gave you, not once.”

“Giving me jewels or gowns is hardly proof of regard, Jeffree!” Sabina retorted. “You are extremely wealthy. You can spend a purse of gold and scarcely give it a thought! Such things are mere trifles to you. I am talking of… affection, consideration, regard. Things which are nothing to do with mere passion!”

He stared at her uncomprehendingly. “You are a passionate man, Jeffree de Crecy,” she continued wearily. “But when passion flares as fiercely as yours it burns itself out. It consumes itself like a great ball of fire and then nothing is left behind. You burn brightly for me now, but…” She shrugged. “That won’t last, and then what is to become of me?”

“Is that what you think?” he burst out hotly. “My gods, you really are the most—” He tilted his head back, staring up at the ceiling a moment. Sabina steeled herself and waited for him to lambast her. “I am only a passionate man since I met you,” he said at last, flummoxing her completely. When she opened her mouth, he cut her off. “And I am not just talking about in the bedchamber. Gods, since I met you, I have no self-restraint left to me! In any area of my life!”

Sabina stared as he struggled to get himself under some semblance of calm. “I might have known you would not make this easy for me,” he muttered bitterly before pinning her with his bright blue gaze. “Is that what he did?” he asked sharply. “Tell me now.”