“I’ll act as your hostess.”

“But don’t you want to go hide?”

“And when have I ever hid from anyone, or anything?” She gave him a reproving look. “Because I haven’t, and I’m not about to start now.”

A hard knock sounded on the front door. Ellie smoothed the front of her skirt. “I shall let the pig farmer in.”

“He’s not a pig farmer.”

“Apologies, mutton.” She swept away with as much dignity as she could muster, considering her tender ankle, and headed for the front door.

Chapter Two

The door opened and she was there, in her green dress with the mud splatters, her thick red hair half braided, the rest spilling over her shoulders and down her back. She looked up at him, delicate winged brows arching in disdain. She wasn’t surprised to see him, which meant her father had prepared her.

“Mr. Sheenan,” she said coolly.

“Miss Burnett,” he replied, inclining his head.

He noticed she didn’t invite him in. He suspected if she had her way she’d leave him on the doorstep forever.

“You arrived home in one piece,” he said.

Her chin went up, eyes flashing fire. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“I was prepared for the worst.”

“How disappointing for you then.”

If he were a man that smiled, he might have smiled then. “Your man said your father is inside. Does he wish to speak to me, or is he good with me collecting the livestock and returning home?”

“He’s in the parlor,” she said, not bothering to open the door wider, or step back to allow him to pass.

She was being deliberately difficult, wasting his time, trying to make him feel small. Perhaps he should be offended. Perhaps he should feel insulted and small.

He didn’t.

While it was true the days were still short, and night came quickly, Ellie Burnett heated his blood, making him hard and carnal. “I don’t know where the parlor is.”

She gave him a look he couldn’t decipher. “You do not have parlors in Ireland?”

“We did not,” he answered, his gaze traveling slowly, lazily over her flawless face, as if she was his to study and explore.

He knew she didn’t like it, and yet it was a pleasure looking at her. Ivory skin, green eyes, lush, dark pink mouth. He’d like that mouth on him. If she weren’t Archibald Burnett’s virgin daughter he’d have her on her knees. Or on her back, skirts up, thighs parted.

He grew hotter, harder, making him wish he could adjust himself since his trousers had become unbearably tight in all the wrong places.

Maybe it was time to visit the brothel above Grey’s Saloon or, better yet, find a widow who’d enjoy physical pursuits without ties. Thomas didn’t want a relationship, and he certainly wasn’t interested in virgins, marriage, or children. But he did enjoy bedding a beautiful, spirited woman, and Ellie with her thick, gleaming hair and oval face, was both beautiful and fierce.

“Then, please, let me help you,” she said coolly, mockingly. “I’d hate for you to feel overwhelmed by a big house.”

She turned around, skirts swishing. He followed her, liking the back view nearly as much as the front. If he was a gentleman, he wouldn’t look.

He wasn’t a gentleman.

Thank God.

“My father is under the weather today,” she said, hesitating outside a closed door. “I ask that you be mindful of his health.”

When he didn’t answer, she added, “He’s not contagious, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m simply trying to be sure that he isn’t overtired.”

She didn’t know that he knew. Her father had confided in him a week ago when Thomas made the final payment for the livestock. Burnett hadn’t asked Thomas to keep the information private, but he had. It wasn’t his secret to share, and the news would influence the suitors lining up for Miss Burnett’s hand. He didn’t want to marry her but, at the same time, there was no point making it harder for her to find a decent match.