Page 22 of Gallant Waif
Kate obligingly put it down, in the manner of humouring a lunatic. “I see. You don’t wish me to use the brush. Perhaps you would like me to use another implement?” She looked around the room, apparently seeking an alternative.
“I don’t wish you to use anything!” he growled.
“But how else can I clean the floor?”
“I don’t wish you to clean the floor at all!” he snapped.
Kate’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, I see. Youlikeit dirty.” She shook her head in amazement. “Well, if youpreferto live in filth…”
“I prefer nothing of the sort,” he roared, goaded beyond endurance. Bending down, he grasped her shoulders and dragged her to her feet.
“You impudent little baggage! Don’t bandy words with me! I won’t have you scrubbing my floors. Curse it, you’re my grandmother’s guest! Guests donotscrub floors!” He shook her in frustration. “Do you understand me?”
It was one thing, Kate found, to tease him into losing his temper. It was quite another to be hauled unceremoniously to her feet and treated like a naughty child.
“Let go of me!” she gasped angrily, struggling in the iron grip. She swung back her foot, ready to kick him in order to free herself, but he was ready for her.
“No, you don’t, you little vixen!” He lifted her at arm’s length; her feet dangled six inches from the floor. “My grandmother said you were a lady but, by God, she doesn’t have any idea of what a shrew you really are!”
“Well, no doubt your grandmother is also under the impression that you are a gentleman!” Kate flashed back. “I’m sure she has no knowledge of your…your manhandling habits!”
She freed herself at last with a final twist and darted behind the kitchen table.
“My what?” he said wrathfully.
“Well, what else would you call it?” she responded, pushing back several more curls which had come loose in the struggle. She glared at him, eyes bright, cheeks flushed, panting. “I haven’t been in this house above a day and on several occasions you have…have used violence on me!”
“Violence?” he repeated incredulously. “And who threw a pot of hot coffee at my head not an hour ago?”
“And who deserved it, and more, for sitting there discussing me so horridly, as if I was…was…a…?” Kate flushed.
Jack looked uncomfortable. “Well, how was I to know you understood what we were saying?”
“A gentleman would never have put me in that position.”
“A lady would never have been in the kitchen in the first place!”
“Oh, so I’m a lady now, am I? Pity you didn’t think of it earlier.”
“My grandmother told me about you.”
“And you’re prepared to take your grandmother’s word on it, are you?” she said dryly.
“Are you calling my grandmother a liar?” he said in the soft tone that would have been a warning to anyone who knew him well.
“She’s undoubtedly a kidnapper, so why not a liar?”
It was a complete facer, Jack had to admit it. His grandmother had confessed to kidnapping Kate without a shred of self-consciousness or guilt. He called down a silent curse on all women, particularly those currently under his roof.
“We will not discuss my grandmother,” he said with dignity. “The fact remains that it wasyourbehaviour which led me to assume you were a kitchen maid and treat you as such.”
“Oh, so it’s perfectly respectable to insult honest kitchen maids, is it? Pray forgive me for not understanding the finer points of a gentleman’s code of conduct!”
Jack’s hands clenched in frustration. “Of course it isn’t, you little shrew! How in hel—Hades was I to know you understood Spanish?”
“Oh, so that makes it my fault too, does it?” Kate had been unsuccessfully trying to twist her hair back into its usual simple style; she tugged at the knot in frustration, bringing the rest of her hair tumbling over her shoulder.
“Then perhaps I’d better warn you that I also speak Portuguese, French, Latin and Greek, in case you ever find yourself wishing to insult me in those languages!”
