Once and Always
Page 16
A vision of dark-lashed, glowing blue eyes and a face too beautiful to be real drifted through Jason’s mind. He remembered the entrancing smile that had touched her soft lips a few minutes ago, before she became aware of his presence in the dining room. In retrospect, she did seem rather like a vulnerable child.
“Go talk to her, please,” Charles implored.
“I’ll talk to her,” Jason agreed shortly.
“But will you make her feel welcome?”
“That depends on how she behaves when I find her.”
In her room, Victoria snatched another armload of clothes from the armoire while Jason Fielding’s words hammered painfully in her brain. Whining little BEGGAR . . . I don’t want her here. . . . Whining little BEGGAR ... She hadn’t found a new home at all, she thought hysterically. Fate had merely been playing a vicious joke on her. She stuffed the clothes into her trunk. Standing up again she turned toward the armoire and let out a gasp of fright. “You!” she choked, glaring at the tall, forbidding figure lounging just inside the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. Angry with herself for letting him see her fright, she put her chin up, absolutely determined not to let him intimidate her again. “Someone should have taught you to knock before you enter a room.”
“Knock?” he repeated with dry mockery. “When the door is already open?” He shifted his attention to her open trunk and raised his eyebrows. “Are you leaving?”
“Obviously,” Victoria replied.
“Why?”
“Why?” she burst out in disbelief. “Because I am not a whining little beggar, and for your information, I hate being a burden to anyone.”
Instead of looking guilty because she’d overheard his cutting remarks, he looked slightly amused. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to eavesdrop?”
“I was not eavesdropping,” Victoria retorted. “You were assassinating my character in a voice that could be heard all the way to London.”
“Where are you planning to go?” he asked, ignoring her criticism.
“That’s none of your business.”
“Humor me!” he snapped, his manner suddenly turning cold and commanding.
Victoria shot him a mutinous, measuring look. Leaning in the doorway, he looked dangerous and invincible. His shoulders were wide, his chest deep, and his white shirt-sleeves were rolled up, displaying darkly tanned, very muscular forearms whose strength she had already experienced when he carried her upstairs yesterday. She also knew he had a vile temper, and judging from the ominous look in his hard jade eyes, he was even now considering shaking the answer out of her. Rather than give him that satisfaction, Victoria said frigidly, “I have a little money. I’ll find a place to live in the village.”
“Really?” he drawled sarcastically. “Just out of curiosity, when your ‘little money’ runs out, how will you live?”
“I’ll work!” Victoria informed him, trying to shatter his infuriating composure.
His dark brows shot up in sardonic amusement. “What a novel idea—a woman who actually wants to work. Tell me, what sort of work can you do?” His question snapped out like a whip. “Can you push a plow?”
“No—”
“Can you drive a nail?”
“No.”
“Can you milk a cow?”
“No!”
“Then you’re useless to yourself and to anyone else, aren’t you?” he pointed out mercilessly.
“I most certainly am not!” she denied with angry pride. “I can do all sorts of things, I can sew and cook and—”
“And set all the villagers gossiping about what monsters the Fieldings are for turning you out? Forget it,” he said arrogantly. “I won’t permit it.”
“I do not remember asking for your permission,” Victoria retorted defiantly.
Caught off guard, Jason stared hard at her. Grown men rarely dared to challenge him, yet here was this slip of a girl doing exactly that. If his annoyance hadn’t matched his surprise, he would have chucked her under the chin and grinned at her courage. Suppressing the unprecedented urge to gentle his words, he said curtly, “If you’re so eager to earn your keep, which I doubt, you can do it here.”
“I’m very sorry,” the defiant young beauty announced coolly, “but that won’t do.”
“Why not?”
“Because I simply cannot imagine myself bowing and scraping and quaking with fear each time you pass, like the rest of your servants are expected to do. Why, that poor man with the sore tooth nearly collapsed this morning when you—”
“Who?” Jason demanded, his ire momentarily replaced by stupefaction.
“Mr. O’Malley.”
“Who the hell is Mr. O’Malley?” he bit out, controlling his temper with a supreme effort.
Victoria rolled her eyes in disgust. “You don’t even know his name, do you? Mr. O’Malley is the footman who went for your breakfast, and his jaw is so swollen—”
Jason turned on his heel. “Charles wants you to stay here, and that’s the end of it.” In the doorway, he stopped and turned, his threatening gaze pinning her to the spot. “If you’re thinking of leaving despite my orders, I’d advise you not to do it. You’ll put me to the trouble of coming after you, and you won’t like what happens when I find you, believe me.”
“I am not frightened of you or your threats,” Victoria lied proudly, rapidly trying to sort through her alternatives. She didn’t want to hurt Charles by leaving, but neither would her pride permit her to be a “beggar” in Jason’s home. Ignoring the ominous glitter in his green eyes, she said, “I’ll stay, but I intend to work for my food and lodging here.”
“Fine,” Jason snapped, feeling as if she was somehow emerging the victor in this conflict. He turned to leave, but her businesslike voice stopped him.
“May I ask what my wages will be?”
Jason sucked in a furious breath. “Are you trying to irritate me?”
“Not at all. I merely wish to know what my wages will be, so I can plan for the day when I...” Her voice trailed off as Jason rudely stalked out.
Uncle Charles sent up word asking her to join him for lunch, which turned out to be a very enjoyable meal, since Jason wasn’t present. However, the rest of the afternoon dragged and, in a fit of restlessness, Victoria decided to stroll outside. The butler saw her coming downstairs and swept open the front door for her. Trying to show him she harbored no ill will about yesterday, Victoria smiled at him. “Thank you very much, ah—?”
“Go talk to her, please,” Charles implored.
“I’ll talk to her,” Jason agreed shortly.
“But will you make her feel welcome?”
“That depends on how she behaves when I find her.”
In her room, Victoria snatched another armload of clothes from the armoire while Jason Fielding’s words hammered painfully in her brain. Whining little BEGGAR . . . I don’t want her here. . . . Whining little BEGGAR ... She hadn’t found a new home at all, she thought hysterically. Fate had merely been playing a vicious joke on her. She stuffed the clothes into her trunk. Standing up again she turned toward the armoire and let out a gasp of fright. “You!” she choked, glaring at the tall, forbidding figure lounging just inside the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. Angry with herself for letting him see her fright, she put her chin up, absolutely determined not to let him intimidate her again. “Someone should have taught you to knock before you enter a room.”
“Knock?” he repeated with dry mockery. “When the door is already open?” He shifted his attention to her open trunk and raised his eyebrows. “Are you leaving?”
“Obviously,” Victoria replied.
“Why?”
“Why?” she burst out in disbelief. “Because I am not a whining little beggar, and for your information, I hate being a burden to anyone.”
Instead of looking guilty because she’d overheard his cutting remarks, he looked slightly amused. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to eavesdrop?”
“I was not eavesdropping,” Victoria retorted. “You were assassinating my character in a voice that could be heard all the way to London.”
“Where are you planning to go?” he asked, ignoring her criticism.
“That’s none of your business.”
“Humor me!” he snapped, his manner suddenly turning cold and commanding.
Victoria shot him a mutinous, measuring look. Leaning in the doorway, he looked dangerous and invincible. His shoulders were wide, his chest deep, and his white shirt-sleeves were rolled up, displaying darkly tanned, very muscular forearms whose strength she had already experienced when he carried her upstairs yesterday. She also knew he had a vile temper, and judging from the ominous look in his hard jade eyes, he was even now considering shaking the answer out of her. Rather than give him that satisfaction, Victoria said frigidly, “I have a little money. I’ll find a place to live in the village.”
“Really?” he drawled sarcastically. “Just out of curiosity, when your ‘little money’ runs out, how will you live?”
“I’ll work!” Victoria informed him, trying to shatter his infuriating composure.
His dark brows shot up in sardonic amusement. “What a novel idea—a woman who actually wants to work. Tell me, what sort of work can you do?” His question snapped out like a whip. “Can you push a plow?”
“No—”
“Can you drive a nail?”
“No.”
“Can you milk a cow?”
“No!”
“Then you’re useless to yourself and to anyone else, aren’t you?” he pointed out mercilessly.
“I most certainly am not!” she denied with angry pride. “I can do all sorts of things, I can sew and cook and—”
“And set all the villagers gossiping about what monsters the Fieldings are for turning you out? Forget it,” he said arrogantly. “I won’t permit it.”
“I do not remember asking for your permission,” Victoria retorted defiantly.
Caught off guard, Jason stared hard at her. Grown men rarely dared to challenge him, yet here was this slip of a girl doing exactly that. If his annoyance hadn’t matched his surprise, he would have chucked her under the chin and grinned at her courage. Suppressing the unprecedented urge to gentle his words, he said curtly, “If you’re so eager to earn your keep, which I doubt, you can do it here.”
“I’m very sorry,” the defiant young beauty announced coolly, “but that won’t do.”
“Why not?”
“Because I simply cannot imagine myself bowing and scraping and quaking with fear each time you pass, like the rest of your servants are expected to do. Why, that poor man with the sore tooth nearly collapsed this morning when you—”
“Who?” Jason demanded, his ire momentarily replaced by stupefaction.
“Mr. O’Malley.”
“Who the hell is Mr. O’Malley?” he bit out, controlling his temper with a supreme effort.
Victoria rolled her eyes in disgust. “You don’t even know his name, do you? Mr. O’Malley is the footman who went for your breakfast, and his jaw is so swollen—”
Jason turned on his heel. “Charles wants you to stay here, and that’s the end of it.” In the doorway, he stopped and turned, his threatening gaze pinning her to the spot. “If you’re thinking of leaving despite my orders, I’d advise you not to do it. You’ll put me to the trouble of coming after you, and you won’t like what happens when I find you, believe me.”
“I am not frightened of you or your threats,” Victoria lied proudly, rapidly trying to sort through her alternatives. She didn’t want to hurt Charles by leaving, but neither would her pride permit her to be a “beggar” in Jason’s home. Ignoring the ominous glitter in his green eyes, she said, “I’ll stay, but I intend to work for my food and lodging here.”
“Fine,” Jason snapped, feeling as if she was somehow emerging the victor in this conflict. He turned to leave, but her businesslike voice stopped him.
“May I ask what my wages will be?”
Jason sucked in a furious breath. “Are you trying to irritate me?”
“Not at all. I merely wish to know what my wages will be, so I can plan for the day when I...” Her voice trailed off as Jason rudely stalked out.
Uncle Charles sent up word asking her to join him for lunch, which turned out to be a very enjoyable meal, since Jason wasn’t present. However, the rest of the afternoon dragged and, in a fit of restlessness, Victoria decided to stroll outside. The butler saw her coming downstairs and swept open the front door for her. Trying to show him she harbored no ill will about yesterday, Victoria smiled at him. “Thank you very much, ah—?”
