Chapter 4
In the chilling darkness, Mary clutched Sebastian tight. Her heart trilled like a rabbit’s in her chest.
Pushing the quilt aside, Sebastian let her slip from his arms and quietly swung his legs to the side of the bed. She sensed his muscles coiling with tension.
He was preparing to fight.
“Don’t be frightened,” he murmured. “I’ll keep you safe.”
She exhaled shakily. Of course he would fight to keep her safe—he was so damnably selfless that way—but she needed him to be safe, too.
As she blinked, her eyes adjusted to the dim, flickering firelight. The two silhouettes in the door belonged to a man and a woman. The man brandished a long, round-barreled weapon. A rifle.
Be careful, Sebastian.
The man leveled his weapon.
Sebastian rose to his full, imposing height, moving between Mary and the door. Into the line of fire.
He gave the intruders a single, thunderous word. “Begone.’
“Lord preserve us.” The man’s weapon shook. Out of fearful trembling, she suspected, not anger. She squinted and peered around Sebastian’s torso. For heaven’s sake, it was nothing more dangerous than a broom handle.
“What sort of devil be ye?”
“I should be asking you that.”
“’Tis a demon, to be sure,” the woman said. “Naked as sin. Formed like Lucifer ’imself.”
“Get the hell out,” Sebastian said, each word a distinct threat. “Both of you. Or I’ll snap your miserable necks with my bare hands.”
For a tense moment, no one moved.
Finally, the broomstick-wielding man broke the silence. “Have at ’im, Fanny.”
The woman rushed forward, wailing like a Valkyrie and raising a blunt cudgel over her head—one that appeared, from Mary’s eyes, to be a rolling pin.
She thwacked Sebastian in the arm. “Take that, ye foul devil’s spawn. Back to the fire and brimstone with ye.”
Sebastian, clearly unwilling to strike out at a woman, ducked and raised his arms to protect his head. He turned his back to her.
Fanny skittered around him in circles, battering him about the shoulders. “Have that.” Thump. “And that.” Thwack. “I rebuke thee.”
Meanwhile, the man remained in the doorway, apparently content to let his female counterpart do the fighting for them both.
Well, Mary decided two women could play at this game.
She leapt from the bed and launched herself at the woman, tackling her against the wall. “Stop that, you shrieking harpy.”
“Get off me, ye demon’s consort. Cavorting with the Devil in my man’s and I’s bed.”
“That’s no devil.” Mary found the woman’s ear and gave it a tweak. “That’s your master you’re bludgeoning.”
Fanny gasped. She flung aside the rolling pin, and from Sebastian’s pained shout, Mary deduced the thing had bounced off his toes.
“God keep us,” Fanny breathed. “Dick, ’tis Lord Byrne ’imself.”
“Y-yer lordship.” The man in the door—Dick, she supposed—pulled the hat from his head and bowed. “Dick Cross. I’m the caretaker. And this is the missus, Fanny. We hadn’t expected ye. A thousand apologies, milord.”
“A thousand isn’t nearly enough.” Sebastian whipped the quilt from the bed and wrapped it about his hips. “Try multiplying that by a factor of a hundred.”
Dick shuffled his feet. “Ciphering were never my strong point, milord.”
Ignoring him, Sebastian went to Mary. “Are you hurt?”
“No. Not at all.”
He turned to the caretaker and his wife. “That’s a stroke of luck for the two of you.”
“We’ll leave ye alone, then.” Fanny gathered up her rolling pin and inched toward the door, tugging her husband with her. “Ever so sorry to have interrupted yer night of sin.”
“It’s not a night of sin.”
“We’ll leave straightaway and let you be with yer lady of the evening.”
Sebastian puffed with anger. “What are you—”
“Now, now. No shaming from our quarter,” she added. “Only God can judge. Perhaps fornication’s forgiven for the upper classes. Special dispensations from the Church, no doubt.”
“Must say, she’s a fair one,” Dick put in. “A sight better than the wenches what walk the docks.”
Fanny whacked her husband with the rolling pin. “What would ye know about the wenches what walk the docks?”
“Let me alone, woman. ’Tis no concern of yours. The master wouldn’t truck with that sort. Got the quality goods, he has.”
“Enough.” Sebastian grabbed the caretaker by the shirt and lifted him onto his toes. “Insult my wife one more time, and I will shove that broomstick up your arse.”
“Y-yer…” His eyes flicked to Mary. “Yer wife?”
“Yes. My wife. Lady Byrne. As of today.”
“Beggin’ apologies, milord. Milady. We didn’t receive any word that ye’d married. Nor a notice that ye planned to be in residence.”
“I can see by the state of this cottage that you didn’t. Not that it’s any excuse. Imagine my displeasure when I bring my bride for a seaside honeymoon, only to find the place in complete disarray. You ought to keep the house in readiness at all times. Instead, we arrived to find this place filthy and in disrepair.”
“We’ve been feelin’ poorly.”
“Oh, I’ll teach you what it is to feel poorly.”
Mary decided to intervene. She laid a hand to his arm, gently. “Sebastian.”
It was enough.
His demeanor softened. He gestured toward the door. “Begone, the both of you.”
“Aye, aye. We’ll jes’ be in the kitchen, then.”
“You’ll be in the barn,” he said. “We’ll discuss the state of your employment—or lack of it—tomorrow.”
After the couple had left, Mary and Sebastian returned to the bed. He turned her so that her back rested against his chest, spooning his body around hers. Keeping her warm and safe.
Her eyelids grew heavy. Heavens, what a day. It seemed impossible to bend her mind around it all. A jilting, an elopement, a decrepit honeymoon cottage.
And one fiery, passionate kiss. If a single kiss could create such a whirlwind of sensation, she could only imagine how their lovemaking would be. It boded well for the honeymoon, she thought. If only they hadn’t been interrupted.
Mary pressed her lips together, trying not to giggle. In the end, she couldn’t help it. She dissolved into laughter.
“What?”
“The rolling pin. The ciphering. Everything.”
“It’s not amusing.”
“To the contrary. It’s highly amusing. I’ve never been called a demon’s consort before. You’ll be laughing about it tomorrow.”
“Doubtful.”
“Very well. Perhaps you’ll be laughing about it next year.” Or maybe the decade after that.
“Go to sleep,” he grumbled.
Just this once, she decided to obey his command.