Mistletoe Wishes: A Regency Christmas Collection
The noise of the storm cea
sed abruptly as he seized the door from her and slammed it shut. “I’m pleased to hear it.”
She tightened her grip on the poker and fought not to show her fear. “Kindly state your business, sir, or be gone.”
“I don’t respond to threats, miss,” he said roughly. One massive hand reached over and plucked the poker from her as easily as if it was a dead twig on a tree.
“I’ll scream,” she said sharply, hoping he’d think the house was packed with burly footmen ready to come to her aid.
His lips flattened. “Scream away, for all the good it will do. I mean no harm.”
The claim didn’t reassure her at all. “So you say.”
“So I say.” With a faint sneer, he contemplated the poker in his powerful fist. “If a slip of a girl expects to frighten any self-respecting burglar with this, she’s a complete nitwit.”
Maggie sucked in a breath and for the first time, found that irritation outweighed fear. Her instincts told her that the intruder was too talkative to harbor evil intentions. And so far, he showed no propensity to violence, apart from stealing her poker.
“It was merely a precaution,” she said stiffly.
“A waste of time, you mean.”
How she wished she’d biffed this outspoken lout when she had the chance. Humiliated color heated her cheeks. That was the only warmth in the room. The hall was icy. “Have you come for any purpose, other than to be rude, sir?”
Unexpected amusement lifted the corners of his mouth. “You took me by surprise when you answered the door in such dishabille.”
She took him by surprise? That was rich. “I came down in a hurry, because I was worried that someone might be in trouble.”
His wry smile shouldn’t ease her fears. After all, there was no rule saying thieves and assassins must take life seriously.
He reached over to set the poker on top of the chest near her candle. Relinquishing the weapon was another good sign.
All right, perhaps this burly visitor wasn’t about to knock her on the head and ransack the house.
“While I assumed you’d know who I am.”
“I don’t have that pleasure,” she said sarcastically.
“I’m Joss Hale.”
The name was clearly supposed to mean something to her. She drew in a deep breath and struggled to sound polite. Joss Hale mightn’t be a bandit, but he was still an unmannerly toad. “Are you lost, Mr. Hale?”
“No.” He raised his lantern and subjected her to a thorough survey. Something about his interest as he took in the sight of her made her wrap her shawl more securely around herself. Maybe he wasn’t here to steal the silver, but theft wasn’t the only crime a man could commit.
Her chilled fingers flexed with the urge to grab the poker once more. Not that she had a prayer of keeping him at bay. He was the size of Ben Nevis and just as thickly covered in snow.
“Are you injured?”
“No.”
She bit back an annoyed exclamation. It was too cold to stand about playing silly questions. “Then what are you doing here?”
Vaguely she was aware that she wasn’t acting like a servant, but he’d given her a nasty scare. She might have decided he wasn’t about to murder her, but she was still badly rattled. And dear heaven, how she wished he’d stop staring at her.
“I’m expected. And why the devil you couldn’t leave some lights on for me, I can’t fathom. I only found this blasted house through sheer luck.”
She bit back a protest at the bad language and frowned. “Expected?”
“Yes.” He set the lantern on the chest and took off his hat, releasing a gust of snow onto the flagstones. His black greatcoat was also covered in white. “Pray send for the housekeeper, Mrs. Carr. She’ll know all about it.”