Redeeming the Reclusive Earl - Virginia Heath Page 0,9

Whatever you do, do not speak plainly. Whenever you do, it never ends well...

‘You should be ashamed of yourself for your boorish behaviour both yesterday and today!’ And now she was positively dousing the brute in vinegar. ‘It is most unneighbourly and without provocation.’

He stiffened and she winced at her forthrightness, yet couldn’t quite bring herself to apologise for her outburst. It was unneighbourly. Effie had never been particularly good at remembering either her place or her sex. She blamed that failing on her excessively large brain and growing up with a father who had always actively encouraged her to use it. Nor had she ever had much patience for wilful ignorance or downright unfairness. She had been perfectly polite to him up until now, but that forced politeness only stretched so far. ‘Have you no respect for history sir? For your legacy or for knowledge? You do not strike me as stupid. Or anywhere close to being an idiot.’ That, she was prepared to concede, was undoubtedly a step too far. Slowly, he turned and beneath the cloak of his hair she saw his mouth was partially open at her insolence. ‘So I fail to understand how you can wilfully stand in the way of progress!’

‘I am the stupid one? I asked you to leave, madam.’ This time his voice was icy calm and, frankly, quite terrifying as he slowly stalked towards her. ‘As I am well within my rights as the owner of this property to do. What part of that instruction are you struggling with?’

‘I am not easily intimidated, Lord Rivenhall.’ It was a lie, she was exceedingly intimidated now that he was stood less than a foot away, but she felt her delivery of the lie had been reasonably convincing thanks to her legendary stubborn streak and unhelpful lack of diplomacy in trying to convince him to see sense. She had never had much patience for blind ignorance.

Honey, not vinegar.

‘I should like us to have a rational discussion about the future of the dig like mature and polite adults.’ The stubborn streak made her lift her chin defiantly and fold her arms like a petulant, sulky child—although, to be fair, she was only mirroring his stance.

‘Then you give me no other choice, madam. If you continue to outstay your welcome, I shall have to remove you forcibly from my premises.’ He leaned until their eyes were level, scant inches apart, intent on intimidating her. Intent on letting her know in no uncertain terms he meant business and was heartily unimpressed with both her and her arguments to sway him to the contrary. ‘I think I would enjoy that.’

‘Am I supposed to be terrified now, Lord Rivenhall?’

Despite all the bluster and noise, all the overtly hostile evidence to the contrary, she somehow knew that this man would not lay a finger on her. Knew that in her bones. How odd, because she wasn’t usually one for nonsense like feeling things in her bones. Yet she was so certain he was harmless, her eyes locked on his brazenly as he continued to stare and remained so when he gripped the arms of her chair to lean closer, making no effort this time to conceal the scars marring his cheek. Almost as if he expected her to recoil disgusted at the merest sight of them.

‘If you are expecting me to burst into tears and scurry away, then I must tell you that you are doomed to be disappointed.’

He blinked, looked away and hastily stepped back. She smiled again because she could see he was confused by her reaction and perhaps a little uncomfortable with his own attempts to intimidate her, if his sudden inability to look her in the eye was a gauge. He was clearly all bluster. Just as she’d suspected. A lion with a thorn in his paw.

‘I need to excavate that pot and will not be deterred from that goal.’

‘And I need to be left alone, madam.’ His arms were crossed again and he stood far too tall and much too close for comfort. ‘Do I need to build a wall encasing my land to keep you off it?’

‘You have a lot of land, my lord. If you start building it today, it might