Yes, she could see this man breathing fire down on unsuspecting innocents.
“What are you doing to this beautiful house?” she shot back in defiance, having to peer upward to meet his incensed gaze, for he was tall as well as brawny. “I am trying to hold a meeting of my Ladies Tea Society, and we cannot hear ourselves speak because of all the noise you are making.”
He rolled his yes. “A bloody tea society? This is why you barreled into my back garden and almost got yourself decapitated?”
Hisgarden?
Goodness, what a haughty oaf to refer to it as his when they all knew it belonged to Mr. Knight.
He turned away to call for one of his workers to bring him his shirt.
“If you are so keen to have your meetings,” he said, as he tossed the shirt on and covered his flawless body, “then why not hold them elsewhere?”
“We rotate turns, and this is my turn,” Berry said, blushing because she had just told a falsehood and felt quite guilty about it.
He knew it, too.
He saw through her because she could not hide her expressions, and that harmless, tiny fib showed right on her face. But it was not a complete lie. They did rotate turns, and how dare he doubt her word on that?
But it wasn’t her turn today, or any of the past Thursdays this entire month.
“You couldn’t simply have switched places until the worst of this construction was over?”
Yes, she could have.
She ignored the question because she could not bring herself to tell him another fib. But he was as much to blame as they were. Did this oaf have to look so spectacular even with his shirt on? The expanse of white linen only made his shoulders appear broader and his torso more magnificently sculpted.
“The lot of you have been gawking at me all month long,” he grumbled. “Every time I look up, there are more faces peering at me from your window.”
Berry tried not to blush again, but how could she deny it?
“We were curious about the construction.”
Again, this was only a half truth.
He had the impertinence to arch an eyebrow, questioning her veracity.
Should he not harbor some of the blame? They would not have been looking if he hadn’t been out there dazzling them with his glorious muscles. “If you weren’t such a big clot, we wouldn’t—”
He picked her up by her armpits and carried her out of the garden.
She gasped and grabbed on to his shoulders. “What are you doing? Put me down!”
But gad, he smelled good beneath that sheen of sweat on his skin. Had he bathed with sandalwood soap? Because there was a wonderfully earthen scent with citrus overtones about him.
“I demand to see Mr. Knight!”
“Then you should have gone to the front door and asked his butler to let you in.” He plunked her down on the front step.
“I did knock, but you were making so much noise, his butler could not hear me.”
He grinned. “Yes, Bonham is quite deaf.”
“Then how is Mr. Knight to know when people come to his door?”
“He isn’t, and he doesn’t care.”
“That is outrageous!” How could dear Fiona have sold this property to thatnouveau richescoundrel? “Will you be working on Mr. Knight’s house this Saturday?”
