Chapter 1 #2
He took a deep breath, reining in his temper.
Do not let this woman unnerve you. You have been through Hell and back; this is nothing.
“I shall be staying the night, Lady Inverhall. My journey from London was long and arduous. But let me be clear on this: you will be leaving soon. I intend to sell this estate, and I have no need of a dowager cluttering up the property as I conduct a sale.”
“Sell Inverhall?” Lady Inverhall let out a short, sharp laugh. “And where, pray tell, do ye imagine I will go? This is me home.”
“It is my property now,” Hugo countered. “An inheritance I did not ask for, but one I will deal with just the same. And as for where you will go, I intend to find you a suitable husband as soon as is humanly possible. Perhaps a younger lord to take on your unique charms.”
He watched for her reaction, expecting outrage, perhaps tears. Instead, she merely chuckled again, stirring his annoyance. He rolled his shoulders back as he looked down at her.
She was formidable for a little thing; he had to give her that. He had to have at least a foot on her, perhaps more, yet her presence was larger than life.
“Ye plan to find me a husband? Ye truly believe ye can kick me out that easily, Yer Grace?” She stepped closer, her green eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’d like to see ye try.”
“I never back down from a challenge.”
“Is that right?”
As she stepped even closer to him, closing the distance between them, Hugo noticed the generous curves that hid beneath her dirty, wet gown.
Her dark hair was long, with delicate ringlets still dotted with flowers.
He noticed how the strands flowed down her back and each side of her breasts like an ornate frame.
Another jolt, sudden and unsettling, shot through him.
This woman is a witch. I will not fall victim to her ways.
Yet, the playful challenge in her eyes and the proximity of her body pulled at him, despite his inner protestations. He caught the faint scent of wildflowers and damp earth that clung to her, mixing with a scent that was so uniquely hers.
It was intoxicating.
He felt a spell, a call that was beyond cognition and reasoning. It was hot and unwelcome, deep in his gut.
This woman—this infuriating, mud-caked creature was a threat to his carefully constructed control.
I am here for one thing and one thing alone: to sell this property and be done with the matter.
“Watch your tone, Lady Inverhall,” he warned, his voice rougher than he intended, more a consequence of his misplaced arousal than anger this time.
“Or else what?” she challenged, her voice a low murmur, filled with a dangerous defiance that only made his blood rush harder to places he willed to behave.
“Do not test me, My Lady. My patience has expired.”
“Will ye throw me out on me arse?”
The air crackled between them, as if a bolt of lightning had struck in the middle of the drawing room. His eyes roved over her curves again as she walked to look out the far window, landing on her round backside.
This woman was supposed to be a nuisance, an inconvenience, not a temptation. He forced himself to pull back, to break the potent pull that gnawed at him.
This was not part of the plan. Get it together, man.
“No,” he said to her back, his voice clipped. “I will not toss you out. Not yet, at least. Instead, I have arranged for us to attend a gentleman’s ball tomorrow evening. It will be an excellent opportunity to find you a suitor.”
Lady Inverhall whirled around, her eyes wide, and raised a delicate eyebrow. “A ball? Ye think I will simply parade meself around like a doll for yer convenience? What if I had a prior—”
“You will attend,” Hugo stated, his voice firm but flat. “You will wear your finest dress, which I trust you have, contrary to your current appearance. And I somehow doubt you have a prior engagement, at least one of any import.”
“Of course, I have suitable clothing. Ye make it seem like I am an animal. We were just havin’ a bit of fun—”
“You will behave, Lady Inverhall. There is no alternative.”
“It will backfire, ye know,” she warned. “Ye will regret sellin’ this place and paradin’ me around like some mare.”
“I rarely regret anything, My Lady,” he countered, a chill entering his tone.
“Ar scáth a chéile a mhaireann na daoine.”
He glared at her, frustrated that she’d just used a foreign language against him. Gaelic, no doubt.
“You forget your manners, My Lady,” he chided.
“We survive in each other’s shelter,” she responded.
“I will leave the Scottish superstitions to you. Perhaps your future husband will permit you to establish a charitable venture. Some worthy cause through which to expend your restless energy,” he said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I require a hot bath and a proper bed.”
“But of course, Yer Grace. I wouldnae dream of keepin’ ye from yer comforts. Nae when hardship means lukewarm water.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. Then, he turned, his gaze falling on a nervous maid hovering in the doorway.
“Have the master bedroom prepared for me. I will require my luggage, a basin of water, a roaring fire, and—”
“Beggin’ yer pardon, Yer Grace… but Lady Inverhall occupies the master bedroom,” an older woman he assumed was the housekeeper interjected sheepishly, wringing her hands in her apron.
Hugo’s gaze snapped back to Lady Inverhall, who gave a small, impudent shrug.
“The light is better in that room,” she explained.
He glared at her, then back at the trembling housekeeper. “Then you will move all of Lady Inverhall’s belongings to the Marchioness’s chambers. I will take the master bedroom.”
“But Yer Grace. I think we got off on the wrong foot! If I could—” Lady Inverhall began, her voice rising in protest.
Hugo shot her a look that dared her to continue. She froze in place, her arms instinctively wrapping around her middle, accentuating her full bosom.
“Are there any objections, Lady Inverhall?” His voice was low, laced with a warning. “Because as of this moment, I am the master of this house. And I give the orders here. Your concerns will be noted, but I have the final say.”
Lady Inverhall clenched her jaw tightly, her eyes burning with indignation. She merely nodded at him first, then at the housekeeper.
The housekeeper curtsied deeply to him. “As ye wish, Yer Grace. I will ensure that the staff see to it at once.”
“Excellent,” Hugo said, a tight smile playing on his lips as he smoothed his beard. He turned to the butler, who had reappeared. “You, Sir, will give me a tour of this… establishment. Mister…?”
“McDonough, Yer Grace.”
“Of course,” he said as he strode toward him, before taking one last glance at Lady Inverhall.
As he strode out of the drawing room, leaving Lady Inverhall standing alone, he could hear her breathing.
She was clearly unnerved by their conversation, which admittedly was his intent. There was no doubt that the woman was fuming, for which he allowed himself a small, private moment of triumph as he smirked to himself.
This woman was a challenge, certainly, but Hugo Blythe had faced far greater obstacles.
I will tame this wild Scottish minx, sell off this inconvenient estate, and restore order to my life.
This was a challenge indeed, but he would not lose.
Certainly not to her.