Page 66 of An Inconvenient Vow

“Well, obviously there has been a change of plan!” Jeffree snapped back, wondering for the thousandth time why he had never thrown Osborn out on his ear. “We are going now to the abbey. You are going to the nearby town. I seem to remember an inn near a bakery when I stayed visited five years ago.” He reached below his saddle and threw a purse of money at him. “Take two rooms and order supper and a bath for one hour’s time.”

Osborn caught the purse and sniffed. Sabina would not look at him at all. With a muttered curse, Jeffree once more wheeled Radax’s large and bulky form around and spurred him onto a brisker pace. After a moment or two, Blitha matched it and they headed with a new urgency toward the looming spire of the convent.

Radax was not built for anything but short bursts of speed, not with his bulk, but he was built for endurance. Neither Jeffree nor Sabina spoke a word for the next quarter of an hour as they drew closer and closer to their destination.

As they rode, Jeffree’s mood continued to simmer on a steady boil. She would not permit him to dress her appropriately; she did not consider herself his wife in truth, though she might be in fact. Well, all that nonsense would be at an end shortly.

He would be released from the vow, which had grown so cumbersome of late, and there would be no impediment standing in the way of his—words failed him—happiness? Startled, he turned the word over in his mind suspiciously. Nay, that could not be the word he’d intended. He would ne’er believe he could be precisely happy with such a wife. He just knew he would be miserable as hell without her. The last three days had convinced him of that.

He cast a quick look at her stony expression, nose in the air as she rode along beside him. What the hells did she mean by claiming she was no grand lady? She was the proudest woman he knew, only look at her now, daring to flout him to his face! He bit back a curse and focused on the approaching stone walls.

There was a stout door on the east wall, and he made for that now in the failing light, dismounting when he saw it and banging on it hard. When this bought about no immediate action, he banged on it again, so hard he was not surprised to hear approaching footsteps. A small section of wood shot back and a wimpled face appeared behind it.

“The hour is late,” the voice scolded. “This place closes its doors to pilgrims at dusk.”

“It is dusk now,” Jeffree insisted, though when he glanced up at the sky, night was indeed falling fast.

The holy sister grumbled something and then he heard the clank of heavy keys. As soon as the door swung open, he led both Radax and Blitha into the courtyard.

The elderly nun looked him up and down with disfavor. “You are seeking a roof for the night?”

“We are not. We seek an immediate audience with the abbess.”

The old woman looked shocked. “The Reverend Mother? You could never hope to see her on such short notice. You must return in the morning.”

“Certainly not. We will see her now,” Jeffree assured her coolly. “I have made several large donations to this establishment over the years and could be reasonably be seen in the light of a long-standing patron.”

This made the nun pause. She cast another look over Jeffree’s costly raiment. “May I take our kind benefactor’s name?” she enquired.

“Certainly, I am Sir Jeffree de Crecy.”

If the name meant anything to her, she did not show it. Instead, she inclined her head. “Will your servant remain here with the horses?” she asked, glancing up at Sabina who had remained silent and seated on her horse during the exchange.

“My wife will accompany me,” Jeffree corrected her sharply. “Where is your stable?”

The old nun gestured vaguely in the direction of an outbuilding not far away. Reaching up, Jeffree caught Blitha’s halter and led both horses toward the stable. When he reached it, Sabina hurriedly dismounted, not waiting for his aid as she usually did. Wordlessly, he led both horses inside and saw them into stalls before rejoining her.

The old nun led them up the path to the abbey and ushered them inside.

15

Sabina sat on the hard bench and seethed as she waited for Jeffree to emerge from his private interview with his former betrothed. So much for her essential presence, she thought crossly. Reverend Mother had requested Sir Jeffree’s presence alone in her inner sanctum.

Not that she cared one bit, she told herself, folding her arms across her chest and shifting on the uncomfortable seat. She had never wanted to come on this fool’s errand, she reminded herself grimly. Listening to Jeffree grovel to the woman who had a prior claim on him was not likely to afford her any pleasure. Stupid man. Infuriating man.

Her sense of injury grew. How dare he put her through this? He knew her background full well, for she had told him of it herself. Yet still, he expected her to sit here and wait for him while he fawned over this precious Meliora woman. It was too much.

It was one thing for a man to have a first love, but for her then to be practically sanctified in his memory… She broke off her thoughts impatiently. She had never been going to match up in any case; it was foolish of her to be sat here fizzing with indignation. Still, part of her had expected Jeffree to drag her in there with him, displaying his customary ill-grace, loudly proclaiming her as his wife.

Instead, there had been that awkward look he had bestowed on her, looking so sheepish and irresolute. How dare he look like that? Like he was torn between the two of them. Her cheeks heated. Was he not married to me now? Had he not made vows in her presence too?

The thought almost sent her shooting off the bench. What were they doing? Reminiscing? He had been gone at least five minutes now. She stared at the door as though she could fling it open by sheer force of will alone. She wanted to march in there, grab him by the ear, and drag him back out again. Her chest rose and fell.

What if they were in an embrace? Her breath froze in her lungs. She had walked into such scenes before with her first husband. Would Jeffree spring guiltily apart and start talking boisterously and loudly with a false booming laugh and then grow angry at her refusal to play along with his game of appearances? Her spirits plummeted, and at that precise moment, Jeffree came barreling out of the door.

“She wants to see you now,” he pronounced looking thunderous. Oh, she did, did she? Sabina’s chest rose and fell again. She stood up from the bench and stalked over to the door. “Sabina…” Jeffree started, but she did not wait to hear whatever it was he had to say. Instead, she flung the door open, then slammed it shut after her.

She might as well see what the saintly Meliora was made of. To her astonishment, instead of an ethereal beauty sat behind the desk, she found instead a tall and dark woman with a hawklike nose and very cold eyes.