"Would you like me to write it down?" he asked sarcastically.
Mariah felt her temper flare. She'd been accidentally rude. He bloody well knew what he was doing.
"My apologies, sir. I did not realise who you were."
"Evidently," he snapped. "But I ask again. Who in damnation are you?"
Well, there was no need for such language, thought Mariah.
"I am Mariah Bolton," she said crisply. "The lady you employed to take care of the library."
Not satisfied with that however, she continued.
"And to be frank, I am not accustomed to being spoken to in such a manner."
She watched with apprehension as anger flared in his eyes and his jaw, his very strong jaw, dropped in shock.
"But you're a woman," he said now in an accusatory tone.
It was amazing, thought Mariah. She'd never before had anyone point out her obvious femininity in her life, and here she was having it happen twice in the space of an hour.
"Guilty as charged" she said sarcastically.
His eyes narrowed and she swallowed.
"Why are you a woman?"
Well how in God's name was she to answer that?
"I believe you'll have to address that question to our Creator, Mr. Haverton. I had very little to do with it."
He seemed to realise how ridiculous his question had been and he looked momentarily abashed. Which was very endearing.
And that was very inconvenient, mid-battle.
"What I mean is, we had been led to believe that you would be a man."
"Yes, so I believe. But, well, I'm not."
"I can bloody well see that," he grumbled, his eyes raking her and making her feel suddenly far too hot.
"If you do not approve, sir—"
"Oh, I approve alright," he said hoarsely, killing the words in her throat.
She had meant to say that if he did not approve of having a woman do the job, she would leave. But he had stopped her in her tracks with that statement, so all that came out was a sort of whimper.
Clearing her throat, she tried again.
"I am sure that nobody realised you would have such a problem with hiring a woman for the task. Mr. Haverton. If you wish, I will leave immediately. But I warn you," she continued, her face heating with her growing ire, "you will not find anyone between this village and the next who knows more about books than I. And you certainly won't find anyone who could take on this task so close to Christmas with as much dedication as I can."
He glared at her in silence for what seemed like an age before finally huffing out a frustrated breath and snapping, "Very well. You will continue."
Mariah allowed her indignation to show in the arching of her brows.
Do not say anything, she warned herself.
"Please," she said quietly even though she had just warned herself to keep her big mouth shut.
"Please, what?" he asked frowning.
"I was just finishing your sentence for you," she said raising her chin a little, "since you seemed to have forgotten the word."
His jaw dropped once again, and he spluttered and mumbled incoherently for a second or two.
Finally, without another word, he spun on his heel and marched from the room, slamming the door shut on his way out.
Well, Mariah thought a little shakily, she would no longer have to worry about impure thoughts around him.
From now on, the only fantasies she would harbour about Brandon Haverton would involve violence and, most probably, murder.
CHAPTER THREE
Mariah cautiously stuck her head out of the library door, checking that the coast was clear before she entered the hallway.
She did not want another run-in with Mr. Sunshine.
The day had gone very quickly and she'd enjoyed every second of it. Seeing him now would only ruin it for her.
At luncheon, a timid maid had knocked and brought a tray for her and then afterwards she had kept her promise to herself and tramped around the grounds, albeit in the shadow of the trees lest her employer appear.
Mariah would have preferred to have eaten with the staff in the kitchens than all by herself but she realised that she was in the unusual position of not being quite staff and not being a guest. So she had eaten a solitary meal by the fire, enjoying one of the books she was cataloguing before taking some air outside.
The wind had been bitter and Mariah had walked briskly, hoping to warm up from the exercise.
She hadn't done. And as a result she had taken herself off to the other end of the room where the fire still blazed having been seen to by a maid not long before she left the room.
It was as she was sitting there, making a proper list out of the illegible scrawls she'd made on her way round the room that morning, that the door opened and Mr. Haverton entered, looking immediately toward the desk she'd been sitting at that morning.