“You willbehave, 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 toher.
Chapter Two
