“Go away, Jack,” she called in what had become rather a familiar routine.
A deuced unwanted one. He glared at the door, which was the symbol of her continued resistance and his continued failure.
“If you do not unlock the door, I will break it open,” he warned.
“Do not be a beast,” she said. “I have the megrims.”
Her voice was muffled and dismissive.
He did not believe her.
“You have had the megrims for two days,” he countered. “When we made this bargain, you know damn well I had no intention of you spending the next fortnight hiding in your apartments.”
“I am not hiding,” she countered.
Her voice was closer.
Not close enough.
“Hiding, running, lying,” he listed off, his irritation getting the better of him. “You have until the count of five to open the door before I set my shoulder to it and break it down.”
“You would not dare.”
“One,” he counted grimly. “Two, three, four—”
“Cease this nonsense at once,” she reprimanded him in her stern governess voice.
“Five,” he said. “Stand back.”
He stepped back, angled his body so that his shoulder would bear the brunt of his forward motion, and slammed himself into the door.
“Jack!”
The shock in her voice told him she had not expected him to follow through with his threat. Good. He wanted to shock her. He also wanted to open the damned door.
He launched himself into it again, gratified at the groaning sound of the hinges.
The latch scraped, and the door flew open.
Nell stood there, wearing only her dressing gown. Her hair was unbound, and she was clutching the third volume of his travel memoirs to her breast in one hand as if it were a shield.
But not even the knowledge that she had been hiding herself away, reading his words, was enough to cut through his frustration. His shoulder smarted, and he did not particularly relish having to damage his own house just to finally convince her to open the door.
“What were you thinking, you oaf? You nearly broke the door down,” she said.
“I warned you I would,” he told her calmly, striding past her, crossing over the threshold.
“I insist you remove yourself from my chamber,” she said. “I did not give you permission to enter. I merely opened the door to keep you from acting the barbarian.”
He ignored her taunting words. “Where are your undergarments? Your corset?”
“Why?” she snapped, trailing after him with a vexed expression pinching her lovely face. “Do you intend to steal them?”
“Never, my love.” He kept himself calm with great effort. “I am going to assist you in donning them.”
“I already have a lady’s maid.” She placed her book upon a nearby table and crossed her arms over her chest. “If I need her, I will ring for her.”
“And yet, you have not done so, have you?” he countered, walking to her wardrobe and throwing open the first door he could reach.
