dumped it into the pot of water set to boil there. “Well, I do hope it should not come to that, but thank you just the same.”
She turned around as Dickie shrugged into his badly worn coat, the sleeves of which did not even come to his wrists anymore. “I should go see to the lord’s horse.”
Sarah nodded, reaching up into the rafters for a bunch of onions hanging there drying. As the boy left, she reminded herself she still had to finish sewing his new coat. Hopefully, she would have time to complete it before his birthday, the day after tomorrow. The rabbit pelts Bert collected and tanned before he left should be enough to finish the soft liner. If the rain let up by afternoon she could send Dickie out to check the roads, giving her time to cut the pelts to fit and sew them in before he returned.
She peeled the onions, chopping them into fine pieces, the strong odor irritating her eyes. With tears streaming down her face she added them to the boiling pot. With a sniffle she rubbed her eyes with the edge of her apron.
“Why are you crying?”
Startled, Sarah squinted at the bed in the corner of the room. Byron lay there watching her with lazy bemusement. With a flippant toss of her head she began to clean up the mess on the table. “I was not crying,” she informed him icily, “I was cutting onions.”
“Ah, I see. I must say that is a relief.” He gave her a bored look that matched his tone.
Sarah dumped her handful of peelings into a small bucket by the door. Facing him, she lowered her eyelids coyly. “Why is that? Do a maiden’s tears frighten you?”
He smirked. “No. However, they do make you look very unbecoming when your nose is all red and runny.”
“Well, luckily for me I am not trying to impress you then,” Sarah answered stiltedly and approached the bed.
Byron grinned, a wicked gleam in his blue eyes. “I find that hard to believe, since I have never met a woman who did not strive to impress me.”
“My, but you are certainly full of yourself this morning. Makes one wonder though ….”
His brows arched, betraying his skepticism. “Makes you wonder what?”
Sarah gave him a taunting smile. “Well, one who is usually so impressed with himself is often only covering for other, shall we say, inadequacies.”
He threw back his head and laughed, the hoarse baritone reverberating throughout the room. “You must have undressed me, so you should know in my case that is definitely not true.”
Sarah’s face grew hot under his knowing look. How dare he imply she ogled him in his unconscious condition. He was right, she realized. She had ogled him, a little anyway, but not in the way he was insinuating. She wasn't some common trollop from the docks! She crossed her arms across her chest and gave him a insolent look as his guffaws gave way to snickers. “I am certain I would not know since I did not look.”
His face grew thoughtful for a moment then the corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement. “Really? I find it hard to believe you could have managed to un dress me and not see anything. No matter, you can have a look now if you like.”
Sarah let out a growl of outrage and flipped the blanket down to his waist. With a quick jerk she stripped the dried mustard pack off his chest, grinning with gratification when he winced as some of his chest hair was removed with it. “I may be a thief but I am still above all, a lady,” she pronounced, turning abruptly on her heel and stalking away.
Her face heated as the marquis snorted and replied in a laughing tone. “I supposed that it is possible, although a true lady would never show her temper. As for my ‘endowments,’ well, you shall be able to look your fill while you help me bathe.” Sarah bit her lip and dropped the soiled cloth onto the pile of dirty clothes on the floor. The man is insufferable! Why does he persist in toying with me? What have I done to warrant his mockery other than save his miserable life? He began to
She turned around as Dickie shrugged into his badly worn coat, the sleeves of which did not even come to his wrists anymore. “I should go see to the lord’s horse.”
Sarah nodded, reaching up into the rafters for a bunch of onions hanging there drying. As the boy left, she reminded herself she still had to finish sewing his new coat. Hopefully, she would have time to complete it before his birthday, the day after tomorrow. The rabbit pelts Bert collected and tanned before he left should be enough to finish the soft liner. If the rain let up by afternoon she could send Dickie out to check the roads, giving her time to cut the pelts to fit and sew them in before he returned.
She peeled the onions, chopping them into fine pieces, the strong odor irritating her eyes. With tears streaming down her face she added them to the boiling pot. With a sniffle she rubbed her eyes with the edge of her apron.
“Why are you crying?”
Startled, Sarah squinted at the bed in the corner of the room. Byron lay there watching her with lazy bemusement. With a flippant toss of her head she began to clean up the mess on the table. “I was not crying,” she informed him icily, “I was cutting onions.”
“Ah, I see. I must say that is a relief.” He gave her a bored look that matched his tone.
Sarah dumped her handful of peelings into a small bucket by the door. Facing him, she lowered her eyelids coyly. “Why is that? Do a maiden’s tears frighten you?”
He smirked. “No. However, they do make you look very unbecoming when your nose is all red and runny.”
“Well, luckily for me I am not trying to impress you then,” Sarah answered stiltedly and approached the bed.
Byron grinned, a wicked gleam in his blue eyes. “I find that hard to believe, since I have never met a woman who did not strive to impress me.”
“My, but you are certainly full of yourself this morning. Makes one wonder though ….”
His brows arched, betraying his skepticism. “Makes you wonder what?”
Sarah gave him a taunting smile. “Well, one who is usually so impressed with himself is often only covering for other, shall we say, inadequacies.”
He threw back his head and laughed, the hoarse baritone reverberating throughout the room. “You must have undressed me, so you should know in my case that is definitely not true.”
Sarah’s face grew hot under his knowing look. How dare he imply she ogled him in his unconscious condition. He was right, she realized. She had ogled him, a little anyway, but not in the way he was insinuating. She wasn't some common trollop from the docks! She crossed her arms across her chest and gave him a insolent look as his guffaws gave way to snickers. “I am certain I would not know since I did not look.”
His face grew thoughtful for a moment then the corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement. “Really? I find it hard to believe you could have managed to un dress me and not see anything. No matter, you can have a look now if you like.”
Sarah let out a growl of outrage and flipped the blanket down to his waist. With a quick jerk she stripped the dried mustard pack off his chest, grinning with gratification when he winced as some of his chest hair was removed with it. “I may be a thief but I am still above all, a lady,” she pronounced, turning abruptly on her heel and stalking away.
Her face heated as the marquis snorted and replied in a laughing tone. “I supposed that it is possible, although a true lady would never show her temper. As for my ‘endowments,’ well, you shall be able to look your fill while you help me bathe.” Sarah bit her lip and dropped the soiled cloth onto the pile of dirty clothes on the floor. The man is insufferable! Why does he persist in toying with me? What have I done to warrant his mockery other than save his miserable life? He began to
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