“’Tis my house and I will go where I please. You have no right telling me where I can and cannot go in my own home.”
“’Twould not be a Christian thing for me to tell you where to go.”
“Ohhh!” Caitlin’s fists tightened into balls at her side. “Get me something to eat right this minute!”
“I’m busy, as you can see. I don’t have time to dish out food for lazy, selfish, children.”
“Lazy!”
“If you’d been up earlier and down here on time you could have had your morning meal while it was hot. As it is, you will have to settle for leftovers and get them yourself.”
“Why you!” Caitlin felt angry enough to attack her. Thankfully, Lucy’s entrance distracted her.
“What is going on in here?” She placed herself between the feuding women. “I can hear you yelling all the way upstairs.”
“Your mistress here wants something to eat and I’m too busy to fix her a plate,” Martha sneered.
“Well, now, I can remedy that,” Lucy stated. “You go have a seat in the dining room and I’ll bring you a plate.”
When Caitlin only stood there, glaring at Martha, Lucy gently put an arm around her shoulders and guided her to the dining room. Coming back a few minutes later she chided Martha. “Why don’t you ease up on her?”
“Why?”
“You haven’t liked her since the first day.”
“’Tis nothing to like,” Martha scoffed.
“You could find something if you gave her half a chance.” Lucy unwrapped the biscuits and placed a couple alongside the sausages and cold grits. “Poor thing has been through a lot.”
“So has Master Cade, but you don’t see him being rude to people.”
“Mr. Cade has had more time to deal with his problems. Caitlin is still trying to put the pieces back together.” Lucy picked up the plate, heading to the door. “Her whole family is gone,” she said and disappeared.
“I still think she’s a spoiled brat,” Martha fumed to herself. Although she’d felt compassion a few weeks ago, when she first heard about Caitlin’s family being forced back to Ireland, she found it hard to be sympathetic right now. They were in a battle of wills and only one of them could win
* * *
“Lord, what am I to do?” Lucy had informed him of the animosity growing between his wife and cook, as of yet, neither one of them had said anything. Should he step in and try to solve the problem? Or let the two of them work it out? When it came to female troubles he was at a loss. On the other hand, he doubted that two independent and headstrong women could work out the problem without interference.
Dillon knocked on Caitlin’s bedroom door. When she didn’t respond he said, “I know you’re in there.”
“I do not wish to speak with you.”
“Quit being so stubborn. There is a matter we need to discuss.”
“What is it?” She jerked the door open, realizing she’d never have any peace until he had his say.
“’Tis about the house.” He waited, hoping she’d invite him in. However, she stood in the doorway with her arms crossed. “A fellow is coming by on the morrow to look around and give a quote on the renovations.”
“Fine. Is there anything else?”
He fidgeted with his collar. “I wish to speak about the contentions between you and Martha.”
“I knew she’d run and tell you.” Caitlin furiously rubbed the front of her gown. “No doubt you are on her side.”
“Martha has not said a word to me. And I am not on anyone’s side.”
Caitlin stopped her fussing and looked up to meet his penetrating gaze. “How did you hear about our fight?”
“’Tis not important. But I would like to hear what happened.”
“Why?”
“I cannot have a peaceful house if my wife and cook are always at odds. We must find a way to deal with matter.”
“Then fire her.”
A dark cloud crossed his squared features. “That is not an option.”
“See? You are taking her side.”
“Martha has taken care of me since I arrived here.” His voice turned soft. “She filled the void that my mother’s death left.”
Caitlin had no argument for that, but she was not about to be taken in by sympathy for his dead mother. She had her own grieving to do. “Then there is nothing left to say.” She turned and started to shut the door.
“Caitlin, do not shut me out.”
His soft plea tugged at the corner of her heart. She stopped, silently debating with herself. She just didn’t trust him enough to allow him access to her heart. She’d never had a broken heart and intended to keep it that way. Yet, a small part of her wanted to confide all of her woes. Wanted to feel his arms wrapped around her, wanted to hear the comfort of his voice as he uttered soothing words. The need for survival reared up, diminishing any tenderness. “Goodnight, Dillon.”
He felt the jab of disappointment as he heard the click of the closing door. At least she hadn’t slammed it in his face. He’d notice a slight droop in her shoulders before she said good night. Maybe I’m making some progress after all. He hoped.
* * *
Caitlin hurried into the parlor, stopping the flow of conversation.
“Ahh, here’s my wife now.” Dillon extended his hand. “Caitlin, I’d like you to meet Mr. Barclay.”
“’Tis nice to make your acquaintance.” She curtsied.
“The pleasure is all mine.” He smiled stiffly, which looked out of place on his round face. Mirthless, dark eyes examined her through thick, round spectacles. “I was unaware that you’d be joining us.”
“I am sorry to be late, but my errands kept me longer than expected.” Shoving a red tendril under the blue capote she settled down on the settee, smoothing out the wrinkles in her blue gown and rearranging her skirts
“You will mostly be dealing with my wife. I have put the renovation in her hands.” Dillon breathed a sigh of relief at her entrance, fearing she had changed her mind and didn’t want to take on the task. But, she’d arrived willing as ever to tackle the job. She was so unpredictable. That was one of the intriguing points about her personality. She made life more animated and lively.
“That is highly unusual,” Mr. Barclay objected. His chest puffed out like a chicken. Caitlin thought the buttons on his waistcoat would spring off. “I assumed I would be working with the head of the house.”
“I fear I have no talent in this matter.” Not feeling proficient in the matter is why he’d never done the work in the first place.
“’Tis highly improper for me to be alone with a lady.” His old fashioned ideals wouldn’t permit the idea of a lady doing a gentleman’s job, especially one of this nature. It was a big job requiring a skilled, keen, and competent thinker, not the wishy-washy, fanciful, and dense disposition of a woman.
“Caitlin is far more suitable for the job than I.” Dillon’s tone was mild but the note of command couldn’t be missed.
“As you wish, sir.” Although he was none too happy about working with a woman he wasn’t about to lose an account of this size.
“As to impropriety,” Dillon continued, “I will be present as much as possible, not to mention the house full of staff members. Caitlin will have her personal maid with her at all times.” Pausing, he looked to her for acceptance. She nodded her approval.
“I understand.” Barclay’s cold, hard, eyes drifted in her direction. At least she’s pleasing to the eyes, he mused. If he must work with a half-wit it was better to have a pretty one.
With that settled the three toured the house and Caitlin filled him in on the details she wanted attended right away. Starting with the dining room and downstairs parlor.
“’Tis customary to start with the upper floors and work down.”
“I’m sure that is true, Mr. Barclay, but we do not entertain on the upper level. I want the downstairs rooms finished before Christmas.”
“’Tis not possible
,” he said astonished. “Christmas is only seven weeks away.”
“I believe it is your job to make it possible,” Caitlin countered. “If you start down here these rooms will be done long before then.
“Surely you jest.” His mouth hung open.
“Not at all.” Moving past him she entered the living room. “This room will not need much work. New curtains, an area rug, a coat of paint, or perhaps wallpaper, I have not made up my mind yet.” She paused, looking up to the ceiling. “The molding is in good condition and the floor is sound. The only thing I desire to be replaced is the mantle over the hearth.” Turning a bright smile on him she added, “Do you not agree?”
“The floor is sound and the molding is in good condition,” he agreed, surprised at her knowledge of construction. She wasn’t as dimwitted as he previously thought. “But it will still be time consuming.”
“I assume you will be working with a crew.” Caitlin tilted her head slightly, observing him from slanted green eyes.
“I have men to help.”
“Excellent. You’ll get this room done in no time.” Walking past the men she added, “now for the parlors, both the upstairs and downstairs will require more work. There are floor boards lose and rotten molding around the windows.” She went into the hall and started up the stairs, leaving the men no choice but to follow.
“Mr. Cade, I urge you to reconsider. I simply cannot work with your wife.” He whispered in a gruff voice. His reluctance mounted, realizing he’d never be able to squeeze more time and money out of the project. Caitlin knew exactly what she wanted and how long it would take to get it done. He’d never encountered a man with such precise calculations.
“Why not?” Dillon questioned.
“She expects too much in such a short period of time. Not to mention, her manners need some work. She doesn’t behave at all like a proper lady.”
“I’d thank you to keep your opinions about my wife to yourself.” Dillon’s brown eyes blazed. “As to her capabilities, she has more than proven herself adequate for this task. I trust you will learn how to work with her or not take the job.”
“As you wish, Mr. Cade.” His receding hairline enlarged his round face, giving more space to turn red at the indignant response.
“If you need to hire additional help to accomplish the task then do so at my expense. Or I will hire more workers on my own.”
“No, sir.” He met the challenge. “If I need more help I prefer to do the hiring. Too much chaos is created when you have two crews trying to complete the same assignment.”
“Just make sure the project is done on time.”
“Yes, sir.”
* * *
“He does not seem happy about working with me,” Caitlin commented after escorting Mr. Barclay to the door.
“I am sure he will come around in time.” Dillon smiled. “He’s just not accustomed to working with women.”
“I believe he is accustomed to swindling people.”
“Come, now. Let’s not be rude.”
“Why not?” she asked. “’Tis only my bad manners and unladylike behavior.”
“So you overheard that comment.” His chortle rubbed the already raw wound.
“I do not wish an incompetent nincompoop like him to do any work on this house.”
“He is not incompetent, my dear. He comes highly recommended.”
“Nevertheless, I do not want him stepping foot in here again.”
“You are upset. You will see reason once you calm down.”
“I, sir, do not intend to calm down. Nor do I want to work with the likes of someone so mean and nasty.”
“Caitlin, you cannot go through life firing everyone you do not get along with.”
“You could if you had any backbone.”
“I do not agree with every article I publish in the paper but I must be fair and impartial. You have to learn to get along with people even if you don’t like them.”
“If you want to justify being spineless by calling it fair and impartial, you can. I, however, am not a journalist. I see things in black in white and call them as I see them. A spade is a spade, and a coward is a coward.”
“And you think Mr. Barclay is mean and nasty?”
Caitlin put her foot on the first step, but quickly turned around at that comment. “Exactly what are you implying?”
“I am not implying anything. I am saying that your tongue is sharper than a two-edge sword. You can shred a man to pieces with it.” Hurt flickered in his eyes. “You, Caitlin Cade, are the meanest, nastiest person I have ever met.”
“How dare you!” she screeched. “I am your wife.”
“Then start acting like one!”
“I do not have to stand here and listen to this.” She lowered her voice, hoping the servants weren’t listening. “You knew full well that I wanted no part of this charade.” Her green eyes misted. “But you insisted on pursuing this marriage and agreed that it would be in name only. Now you stand here, insulting me because I am not behaving as your wife. Perhaps I would be apt to be kinder if you ever took my side.”
“I am on your side, Caitlin. I stood up for you with Mr. Barclay, did I not?”
“Of course you do with a stranger but you won’t take a stand against a simple cook.”
His silence only fueled her anger. “See what I mean? The hired help are more important to you.” She turned to go up the stairs but he grabbed her arm, twirling her around.
“You and Martha are going to have to work this out on your own. I will not be in the middle.”
“Of course not, you take the cowardly way out. Do not get involved then you don’t have to make a decision. You can continue being fair and impartial.”
“You need to grow up, Caitlin. Only children run and sulk in their bedrooms, expecting someone else to defend their bad behavior.” He leaned closer tightening his grip when she tried to pull away. “Adults must learn how to work problems out on their own.”
His breath rushed past her cheek, nipping the tip of her ear causing tingling sensations. She felt the same sensations travel up her arm, where his hand still held her in place. She could feel the heat of his skin through the cotton sleeve. How could her body react so intimately when his touch was anything but gentle?
Angry at her body’s response and the harsh words he spoke, she lashed out. “You, Mr. Cade can go straight to the devil.” Struggling to free her arm and not able to, she raised her other hand to slap his face.
He clutched her wrist in his hand. “Oh, no you don’t,” he seethed. “I have put up with your rude behavior long enough. I have given you every benefit of doubt because I have felt sorry for you. I have made all kinds of excuses and pardoned your contemptuous acts all in the hopes that you’d come around someday.” Bending her arm behind her back, he leaned so close that his chest brushed against hers. “But no more, Caitlin. I will not put up with your behavior anymore.” His tolerant temperament had been stretched to the limit.
His body felt like a torch as he pressed closer. Even in anger he still felt desire for her. What was it about this woman that set his pulse racing and every nerve on edge? Unable to control his own body he claimed her lips.
She struggled against him but that proved futile and only ignited the flames already devouring her body. Anger and desire merged into one emotion. Everything else faded away leaving only this moment impressed in their minds.
Knowing she should push away, step back, or do something to end this madness, yet her body didn’t budge. His kiss left her immobile and thirsty for more like the scorched fields drinking in the rain after a summer draught. She felt a chilling sensation when his hands released her arms. A moment later they were gliding up her back, creating a whirlwind of emotions. She wound her arms around his neck, clinging to him helplessly, her fingers played with his curly mass of hair. She felt faint from lack of oxygen but didn’t move or take any steps to stop him.
Dillon finally broke the kiss, silently chiding
himself for taking such liberties. Looking into her startled green eyes he saw something else, although he was not sure what. Love. Hate. Desire. Anger. These emotions so closely mirrored each other that it was hard to tell which one she felt. He was certainly confused about his own feelings. “I am sorry, Caitlin.” He turned on his heel and left.
Chapter 9
A clap of thunder startled Caitlin awake. She groaned and rolled over feeling annoyed at being woke up so abruptly. Her annoyance wasn’t just with Mother Nature, it was also directed at Dillon. Since the ill-fated kiss four days past, he hadn’t been around. He stayed away all day, not coming home until well after she’d retired for the night. Not that she missed him, but he could at least have the courtesy to help with the decorating. After all it was his house. He’d left her alone to deal with Mr. Barclay, and things weren’t going smoothly.
Sliding into her slippers and donning her robe to fight off the chill, she went to the hearth and threw a log onto the nearly depleted fire. After stirring the ashes with the iron poker she felt the warmth radiate through her body as the fire flourished to life. The glowing embers brought to mind the kiss.
Oh, that kiss, she fumed, angrily jabbing at the fire once more. Why couldn’t she get it out of her mind? Am I going mad? Am I losing my senses? She could find no other explanation. One minute she was angry with him, the next she was kissing him. A dull ache formed between her breasts, and her cheeks flushed at the sensations his lips had produced. Both times he’d kissed her she’d done nothing. Humiliation flared like a wild fire when she thought about how her body responded. What was it about him that turned her into a weak-minded nitwit?
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