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The caretaker struggled to stand. “Yes, milady.”
“Good.” She set the bucket at the caretaker’s feet. “You can begin by drawing more water and bringing it in to the kitchen. Fanny, gather up brooms, rags, soap, and some vinegar.”
Fanny nodded.
“This cottage—or at least a fair part of it—willbe presentable by the time your lord returns.” Mary arched an eyebrow. “Or prepare to face the wrath of the demon’s consort.”
Within an hour, they had the kitchen swept and the cobwebs knocked from the corners. Mary had scrubbed the panes of the windows with vinegar and a drop of lemon oil. Dick brought in eggs from the henhouse, and Fanny produced bread, a slab of bacon, and some butter. In the cupboard, Mary found a jar of preserves and a locked tea caddy. She broke the rusted lock with a knife and was rewarded with a small stash of serviceable, if a bit stale-looking, tea.
By the time she had the kettle boiling, eggs and bacon frying, and bread sliced for toasting, her hair had begun to come loose, and perspiration dotted her brow. She meant to wash her face and pretty herself before Sebastian returned, but she didn’t have a chance. The clop of Shadow’s freshly shoed hooves on the lane told her he’d already returned.
She patted her hair, hastily untied her apron and cast it aside. At the last second, she adjusted the bouquet of wildflowers she’d picked on a whim earlier and crammed into a crockery vase.
As Sebastian came through the door, she clasped her hands together and tried not to appear as anxious as she felt inside. How silly, that she’d be nervous. But perhaps it was natural. This was her first morning as a wife, and she found herself eager for her husband’s approval. Maybe he’d be impressed by everything she’d accomplished in only a few hours, and then he’d embrace the idea of domestic bliss.
My darling, you’ve worked a miracle. I can’t imagine how I ever lived without you. Truly, you are the best of wives.
“Good morning.” She smiled and prepared herself to receive his praise.
Instead, he shook his head. “Mary, what have you done?”
Sebastian gestured broadly at the kitchen. “What is all this?”
As he watched, the smile faded from her face. “It’s breakfast,” she said. “And we did a bit of tidying up.”
The kitchen hadn’t merely been “tidied up.” It had undergone a complete transformation.
The spiders had been evicted from the corners, and the thick layer of dust had vanished from the fireplace mantel. The smell of fresh sea air breezed through the open window, and a pair of lacy curtains fluttered in the wind. Everything in the place had been scrubbed and polished to a gleam. Even the floor looked to have been scoured.
She must have worked every blessed minute he’d been away. Yet more impressive, it would seem she’d convinced Dick and Fanny Cross to do some labor, too.
The prettiest thing in the room, of course, was Mary herself. She was lovely as a Dutch painting. She’d dressed in a sage-green frock with cap sleeves and delicate lace edging. Her skin seemed to glow in the morning light, and her cheeks had a fetching blush. She wore her auburn hair in a loose, haphazard knot, and stray wisps had curled at her temples and the nape of her neck.
“You look as though someone stomped on your new hat,” she said. “Don’t you like it?”
“It’s not that I don’t like it. You shouldn’t have put yourself to all this trouble, that’s all. We’re leaving for Ramsgate this morning.”
“Yes, about that…” She chewed her bottom lip. “Let’s at least have breakfast first. I’m hungry. And if I’m hungry, you must be starving.”
Sebastianwasstarving. He hadn’t had a bite to eat since breakfast yesterday, and that might as well have been last year. But since that kiss last night, another sort of hunger was tormenting him. He was ravenous for his wife.
While she loaded a plate for him, he washed his hands. Then he sat down to a feast. Fried eggs, bacon, toasted bread with butter and jam. How had she managed all this?
Eat first,his stomach growled.Talk later.
He attacked his food, downing four eggs, two rashers of bacon, and six points of buttered toast in a matter of minutes.
She filled his teacup for the third time. “Feeling human again?”
“Mostly.”
When she bent over the table to pour his tea, he could glimpse not only the sweet, abundant curves of her breasts, but the dark, secret valley between them. If he didn’t know better, he’d have thought shemeantto give him the tempting view.
“I’ve been thinking.” She propped an elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand. “Instead of going on to Ramsgate, perhaps we could stay here.”
“No.” He drained his tea and set down the teacup with authority. “We’re not going to spend another night in this cottage.”
“But—”
