Alas, it was not to be. Three of their wives now converged upon him, bringing food and wine— as if he might be starving in his own home— and a new tunic they'd sewn for him. "I hope you are taking care of yourself," exclaimed Princesa. "Out here all by yourself with no woman to look after you." He was puzzled by this apparent belief that he needed a woman around. Who the devil came up with that idea? Isobel and Jeanne forced him to try on the new tunic. Then they insisted he needed a shave and a hair trim, which they immediately took in hand without waiting for his permission. "Look at his grim scowl," Jeanne laughed. "Anyone would think he's not happy to see us." Isobel grabbed his hands and studied his fingernails, shaking her head. He tried reclaiming his fingers, but he was outnumbered. Before he could even protest they had begun scraping the dirt out from his nails and filing them down evenly. As if he was a damned horse. "Who sent you to me?" he demanded, cross. "Dom, I suppose?" That meddlesome oaf.
What do You think about Hellion (Seven Brides For Seven Bastards, 7)?
