Chapter Ten – Rose
ROSE
A Noble Stalker
“ N o.”
“Just open the gate, Rose.”
“No.”
“It’s a four-foot-high fence. I can just climb over it.”
“‘No’ is a complete sentence, sir.”
“This is my property.”
“That I pay to occupy,” I said, gripping the gate even tighter. “Landlords cannot force their way into a tenant’s space.”
Oliver gripped the gate either side of my hands, bending down until our eyes were level, and half-smiled.
He was so close, and I hated the way my body reacted to the fact there were just millimetres between us.
My heart thumped against my ribs at our closeness, even though my mind wanted to hit him with my trowel.
After all, I knew all too well what it was like to be pressed up against his person.
“This is an allotment, not a three-bedroom house, and the individual contracts each plot holder signs says no such thing. In fact, they say that the landowner may visit and check the status of each plot without notifying the tenant,” he said in a low voice.
“I made sure to read the contract properly this time, princess.”
I clenched my jaw. Damn it. Someone learnt his lesson. “I really hate you, do you know that?”
“I’m glad my efforts are paying off. So, may I come in?”
“You may not, but I also don’t want you climbing my fence and crushing my plants, so I don’t suppose I have much choice. Also,” I said, staring at him. “You’re too close. Please take a step back.”
He waited for a moment, still smiling at me, then did as I asked.
Slowly.
Painfully slowly.
Never mind making his life a living nightmare—it was going to happen to me, wasn’t it? Was this that bitch called karma?
I unlocked the gate and tugged it open, promptly turning my back on Oliver. I didn’t want to see him, so if I didn’t look at him, it was problem solved.
Mostly.
Kind of.
I was just gaslighting myself at this point.
I peered back over my shoulder to see Oliver looking around my plot. There was a spark of interest in his eyes. “Are you enjoying looking at my vegetables? I’m sorry I’m merely growing them on such valuable land.”
“I’m not sure you’re growing them as much as they are just growing wildly.” He pointed to my pumpkin plant. “That thing is like something out of a horror movie.”
“That thing is a pumpkin plant, you uneducated swine.”
“Uneducated swine? I went to boarding school, you know.”
“And you still can’t recognise a pumpkin plant? What a waste of money,” I retorted. “Not that it matters. It probably won’t ripen in time for me to harvest it before you rip this place out from under our feet.”
He sighed.
“Don’t harass me into letting you in here just to sigh at me.
I told you I didn’t want to see you. I’m not going to be nice to you, especially not here.
” I turned my attention back to where I was working with my tomato plants before he showed up.
“So, feel free to do your little bogus inspection, then go and torment someone else.”
“Ah, I only torment you.”
“Probably. Your very existence is a painful thing for me, after all.”
“Rose! You can’t talk to the duke like that,” Susan said, her face suddenly appearing on the other side of my tomato plants. “Have some manners.”
I blinked at her. “No. Go and look after your melons, Susan, or you’ll never get a chance to show them to George in the calendar.”
She opened her mouth but quickly froze, her cheeks flushing.
Ah-ha!
“What calendar?” Oliver asked.
“Oh, Your Grace! Good afternoon!” Susan regained her composure. “Have you ever seen the film, Calendar Girls ?”
“I can’t say I’ve watched it, but I know of it. They create a tasteful nude calendar, don’t they?”
“Yes! Well, some plot holders got together and made a similar calendar last year, but with our produce covering our wobbly bits. We raised funds for the Youth Farmers’ group to go on a trip to North Wales this summer.
They’re off in a few weeks, actually,” Susan explained. “And we’re planning to do it again.”
“But obviously, it’ll be our last one, since someone is shutting down the place we grow said produce. I guess the Youth Farmers will have to make do with a day out to the local park for a picnic instead,” I said, pinching out a runaway sucker from my cherry tomato plant.
Oliver crouched down next to me and looked at me. “That’s petty of you, Rose.”
“Is it? Good.” I turned to face him and tickled his cheek with the tiny leaves of the sucker stalk. “You mention it like I should care.”
“I was merely pointing it out.”
“Don’t bother. It’s a waste of your breath.”
“Did you do the naked calendar last year?”
“Why?” I asked. “Do you want to see me naked?”
His lips quirked to one side, and he quickly leant in and whispered, “I already did.”
I shoved my elbow into him, knocking him off balance, and shot to my feet. I turned my back to both him and Susan as he laughed at me.
If he saw the blush on my cheeks right now, I’d die.
Actually die.
It didn’t sound that bad, to be honest.
“You two seem to be getting along quite well,” Susan said, cutting through my momentary embarrassment. “I’m surprised.”
“Really? You call this getting along?” I asked, snapping my head around.
“Yes,” she mused. “You sound like me and George, and you insist we have feelings for each other. Am I wrong?”
“Wow, Susan. Are you admitting that you’re in love with George?”
Her lips parted. “Never!”
“There we are, then. We are not getting along.” I motioned between me and Oliver. “He won’t leave me alone. That’s all this is. He abused his power to get in here in the first place.”
“ Bock-bock-bock ,” came from somewhere by the gate.
“Oh! Oliver!” I pointed at him. “Quick, open the gate.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Would it kill you to say please?”
“It might, and quite frankly, I’m unwilling to take the risk,” I said, grabbing the birdseed bag from my shed. “Just get on with it.”
With a sigh, he opened the gate, then did a double take as a stream of chickens hurried in at the sound of me shaking the seed. “What the—”
“Good afternoon, Waffles, Pancake,” I said, tossing some seed on my path.
“Oh, everyone’s here! Roll, Bap, Barmcake.
Hello, babies!” I tossed Pancake a little more for the chicks as she did her little magic clucking thing to take credit for my seeds.
“Sourdough, Panini, Loaf, Baguette, Crumpet—damn it, Tortilla, get out of my courgettes! No, no! Bad chicken!”
“Oh, Waffles has brought the whole harem today,” Susan said, peeking over the fence. “Here, I have this marrow that’s gone over. Let me cut it up for them so they’ll leave yours alone.”
“Thanks, Susan.” I shoved the bag of seed at Oliver and picked up Tortilla, who clucked in protest at me taking her away from my young courgettes. “No, we’ve discussed your thievery, Tortilla.”
“Bock-bock,” she replied.
“No, it’s not bock-bock, it’s ‘yes, Rose.’ ‘Yes, mistress,’ if you’re feeling fancy.”
“Bock-bock.”
“Bock-bock here instead.” I put her down in the middle of the seeds right as Loaf pecked at Roll and got a beating from Pancake for her troubles. “Ladies, please, we have company! Mind your manners.”
“Are you… talking to the chickens?”
I peered at Oliver. “It’s perfectly normal to talk to your pets.”
“And these are your pets?” He pointed at the chickens. “That you named after various types of bread and breakfast foods?”
“Of course. What else would I call my chickens?”
“Nugget. Spatchcock. Fillet. Tenderloin.”
I snatched the birdseed back from him and clapped my hand over his mouth, shooting a glare at him. “Shh, they’ll hear you.”
“Der hi-hens.”
I pulled my hand back. “Come again?”
“They’re chickens,” Oliver said, presumably in a repeat of what he just mumbled against my palm. “They don’t care what their names are.”
“Wow. How rude.” I scattered some seed on the ground before taking it back into the shed. “At least I know to keep you away from my precious babies.”
“What are you going to do with your ‘precious babies’ when the allotments are closed?”
Wow.
I stopped and stared at him. “You heartless prick.”
“It’s a fair question.”
“It’s a hurtful question,” I shot back. “It’s not just the chickens, it’s the cat, too.”
“There’s a cat?”
I pointed at my little patio table in the shade next to my shed. “He’s lying on the table.”
Oliver peered around me. “Huh. I didn’t see him there.”
“Of course, you didn’t. He’s a black cat in the shade. Hades is a master of disguise.”
“Hades? You called him Hades?”
“Yup. Semi-feral cat for rodent control. Who else would I name him after but the Greek God of Death?”
He paused. “That’s an excellent point. You’ll have to find a farm for him to live on, I suppose.”
“Wait there.” I stepped into my shed and grabbed the fork from its hook on the wall, then went back outside and pointed the sharp end at Oliver.
“Would you prefer to be stabbed in the neck or the groin first? If I twist it right, I bet I can rip your genitals right off. If not, a good chop with my hoe would finish the job nicely.”
He took a step back and held up his hands. “I’m sorry. That was insensitive of me.”
I stared at him. “I’m glad you’re smart enough to recognise it. Now, I think I’ve humoured your intolerable arse enough. What do you want?”
“It’s as I said over text. I want to apologise for the mistake I made in sending you the incorrect closure notice,” Oliver said, and his sincere gaze told me he truly meant it. “My lawyer has advised me that you could be eligible for compensation, so I wanted to discuss it with you.”
“Compensation, you say?” I lowered my fork to the ground and leant on it. “How about keeping the allotments open?”
“No.”
“Then I don’t see how you can possibly compensate me adequately for the emotional distress I’ve incurred at your hands.”
He stared at me for a moment. “Really? I can think of a few ways.”
“That’s strike two for sexual harassment, sir.”
“You’re the one whose mind jumped to the gutter, miss.” His eyes twinkled. “I was talking about perfectly platonic things, like monetary compensation.”
What was it about this man that was so infuriating? And why the heck had I found him so charming the first night we met? I was hardly a person who was easily swayed, so what was it about him that had swept me away so vigorously?
Especially considering I now wanted to throw a bag of soil at him?
I bet I could do it. I was strong.
I’d certainly give it a bloody good go.
“What do you think I gain by accepting that?” I said, tilting my head to the side questioningly. “I don’t accept hush money.”
“I don’t offer hush money,” he replied.
“You just did.”
Oliver pressed his lips together. “Maybe a little.”
“So… compensation?” I said, rocking my fork side to side. “How far are you willing to go?”
His eyes held a hint of wariness. “I thought you didn’t accept hush money.”
“I thought you didn’t offer it.” I smirked. “I have an idea, if you’re willing to listen.”
“I’ll listen, but it doesn’t mean I’ll do it.”
“I understand.” I held up a hand. “What I want is your time.”
“My time?”
“Mhmm.” I wiggled my fingers. “One week of it, to be exact.”
He looked away, and his lips puffed outwards as he exhaled heavily. “I run a business. I can’t just take a week off at the drop of a hat to please you.”
“You’re awfully cocky for someone coming to offer me compensation for his mistake.”
Oliver groaned, looking away with his fingers buried in his hair. “I still can’t just take a week off.”
“Fine. Two weekends of my choosing, plus six evenings between the hours of five and eight.”
“One weekend and four evenings between four and eight.”
“Mine was a final offer,” I said.
“You didn’t say that.”
“I don’t negotiate with terrorists.”
“How am I a terrorist?”
“You’re terrorising me.” I sniffed. “Fine. Two weekends of my choosing, six evenings between the hours of five and eight, and two other three-hour blocks wherein I will give one week’s notice. Final offer.”
He shot me a look. “You’ve added six hours onto your original demand.”
“Think of it as payment for today’s emotional distress.”
“What exactly do you plan to do to me in those hours?”
“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know?” I grinned.
“I would, actually.” He took a step closer to me and dipped his chin. “You know, Rose, if you want to spend time with me that badly, all you have to do is ask.”
“I’d prefer if you kept your perverted fantasies to yourself, sir,” I replied nonchalantly. “I believe I’ve already told you there will never be a time in which I actually want to spend time with you.”
“There already has been.”
“We all make mistakes.”
“Ouch. You wound me, Rose. Was it that bad?”
Thank God he couldn’t see my face right now. “The night? No. My decision making at the time? Yes. Now stop hounding me.” I pushed at his shoulder and turned around, heading back into my shed yet again.
“Okay.”
I paused and looked back over my shoulder. “Huh?”
“Okay,” Oliver repeated. “I’ll do what you want. But swap two of those evenings for one weekday. I can make that work.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “I assume you have a very good reason for asking for it, so I’ll humour your request.”
“Wow.” I hung the fork back up and closed the distance between us, touching my hand to his arm as I leant in. “In that case, Oliver de Havilland, the Duke of Hanbury, I hope you have a taste for submission, because I’m going to make you my bitch.”