Macgowan Meets His Match. Annette Broadrick

ran along his temple and a smaller one bisected his left brow. There were signs of suffering in his face.

      “Come,” he said, motioning his hand impatiently. “I won’t bite you, for God’s sake. Stop hovering at the door.” He motioned to one of the chairs arranged in front of a brisk fire. “Sit.”

      Now that he had spoken, Jenna could better understand Ms. Spradlin’s reaction to him. His deep voice sent a shiver of sensual awareness through her even while his manner of speaking irritated her. If she was going to be working for him, she needed to set some ground rules.

      “Yes, I will, thank you,” she replied graciously, crossing the room. “As you know, I’m Jenna Craddock and I’ve come to transcribe your work for you. However, I would appreciate your not using dog commands when speaking to me. I’m perfectly capable of responding to entire sentences.” She held out her hand to him.

      He looked at her hand in surprise before he briefly shook it. “Ian MacGowan,” he muttered brusquely, his frown deepening. With exaggerated politeness, he said, “Please have a seat, if you would be so kind.”

      No eye-rolling, she reminded herself. If she intended to work for the man she would need to adjust to his sarcasm and abrupt manner.

      Once she was seated, Sir Ian limped to a nearby chair and carefully lowered himself, his jaw flexing when he bent his left knee. She made a point to focus on his face, most especially his eyes. When he made eye contact she smiled at him, folded her hands and waited for him to speak.

      Abruptly, he said, “You’re not what I expected.”

      Her smile widened. “You come as a bit of a shock, as well,” she said, intending to voice her thought that he would be older. “Mrs. Spradlin didn’t mention—” That was as far as she got when he interrupted her.

      “I’m sure my reputation precedes me,” he said irritably. “That ninny Spradlin must lead a very boring life to get so much titillation out of my search for a decent secretary.”

      Oh, my. Sir Ian was definitely an irascible sort. “She mentioned that you’ve been without an assistant for a few weeks.

      “Through no fault of my own, I assure you. The woman has an absolute knack for sending me the most inept or overly sensitive women who fall apart whenever I frown at them, raise my voice or point out a typing error. The last one left in tears, the silly thing. You’re from Australia.”

      Jenna blinked at the sudden change of subject. “Yes, Sir Ian, I am.”

      He rolled his eyes. “Forget the title and call me Ian.” He pulled at his earlobe. “I’ve asked Ms. Spradlin more than once not to use my title but she’s too busy chattering on to hear me.”

      From her observation during the conversation in Ms. Spradlin’s office, she knew he had been busy interrupting while Ms. Spradlin was speaking.

      “I would think being a knight is a great honor,” she said lightly.

      “You would, would you? Tell me something about yourself,” he said abruptly. “You’re young— I can see that. Are you single?”

      One brow lifted. “Yes.”

      “I don’t want you to think you can move someone else in with you—married or single.”

      That comment didn’t merit an answer.

      “Why did you leave Australia?”

      She held his gaze and smiled deliberately. “To see the world.”

      “Why Scotland?”

      “Why not? I like it here.”

      He leaned back in his chair, staring at her from beneath his frowning brows. He had to be aware of how intimidating he looked. She wondered if he used that look to keep his employees in their proper place. She almost smiled at the thought. He might be laird of his castle but he would quickly discover that she wasn’t easily intimidated.

      What did it matter to him why she was there? she wondered. Perhaps he enjoyed irritating people.

      After a rather lengthy silence while he stared at her, he said, “Okay, now I get it. This is a joke, isn’t it? Todd told you to show up here, didn’t he?” He spoke in short, abrupt spurts. And his mind seemed to jump around like a grasshopper. She wondered if he was on pain medication. Being on drugs might explain his lack of focus and, to her at least, his strange remarks.

      “Todd?” she repeated.

      “Yes, Todd, my supervisor. He probably got tired of hearing me complain about not being able to find decent help and sent you to help out. Not that I’m bothered by the ruse, you understand. I need someone competent and Todd would make certain of that, at least. But there’s no reason for you to hide the fact.”

      “Since I’ve no idea what you do for a living—other than write, that is—I have no idea who your supervisor might be. Why would you think I would lie about my reasons for being here? Are you always so suspicious of people?”

      “Yes.”

      Great. Paranoid, as well. He was going to be a joy to work with, she could see that already.

      “Your story doesn’t quite work,” he said gruffly. “There’s no reason that I can see for you to come to Scotland in the first place, much less apply for work. If you’re serious about living in the U.K., London would be the most logical place for you to search for work.”

      Was this some kind of test? Was she supposed to break down in tears at this point? Calmly Jenna replied, “Do you have a particular reason for questioning my honesty, sir? You may not believe me but I have no reason to lie to you.” She stood and ran her hands down her thighs to smooth her skirt. “You’ve made it quite clear that once again you’re displeased with Ms. Spradlin’s choice. I respect that. You certainly have the right to disagree with her.” She picked up her handbag. “I do want to reassure you, however, that I didn’t accept the position with some nefarious plan in mind. I merely wanted a job. Your family’s heirlooms would have been safe with me.”

      Jenna walked toward the door, mentally telling the rows of books goodbye.

      “Oh, for God’s sake, stop being so melodramatic,” Ian snapped. “Come back here. I don’t want to be hopping up and down every time I say something that displeases you.”

      She turned and looked at him. “It isn’t melodramatic to dislike rudeness, sir. I’m capable of dealing with a great many foibles, but I will not tolerate your disrespect.”

      He pushed himself out of his chair and faced her. Their gazes locked and she, for one, did not intend to back down. She felt a small victory of sorts when he glanced away and muttered something that might have been an apology.

      Or a curse word.

      “Let’s start over, shall we?” he asked, running his hand through his hair. Definitely irritated, she thought to herself. Well, so was she. “Please sit.” When she was seated once again, he said, “May I see your references?”

      Without replying, Jenna reached into her purse and brought out her résumé and two letters of recommendation. After handing them to him, she waited for his next salvo.

      After reading the documents, he looked at her and said, “According to this, your previous employer is convinced you walk on water. With this glowing recommendation, I’m surprised he allowed you to leave.” He studied her for a moment. “Did your departure have anything to do with a lover’s spat? Because if it did, I see no reason to have you settle in here only to receive an apologetic phone call from him that will send you scurrying back to Australia…with all due respect.”

      “Not that such information is any of your business, but since Basil Fitzgerald is sixty-five years old with several children and grandchildren, I doubt he could have found time for an affair…and if he had ever entertained the idea, Mrs. Fitzgerald would have bashed him on the head for considering it.”

      “If