Page 28 of A Match Made in Heather

“I don’t think you are,” she challenged as he stopped in front of her, then removed his work gloves and slapped them against his thigh to knock off the sawdust. “I remember a roof.”

He glanced up and blinked, as if surprised to find open sky overhead. “Odd. It was there just a moment ago.” His eyes gleamed mischievously, and he fought back another grin threatening to blossom at his sensuous lips. “I don’t suppose you’d like an indoor garden in the nursery.”

She blew out a long breath, having reached the end of her patience. “Lord Townsend—”

“We’re tearing down the wing,” he explained, slipping easily back into that imperial tone of the English earl he’d become. He waved a hand at the mess around them. “It wasn’t safe. The roof was already half-caved in. Something had to be done.”

“But tearing it down . . . Isn’t that a bit drastic?” She couldn’t bear to think of the manor house being destroyed. She wanted it to remain as she remembered from her childhood, every last stone and timber.

“It would have been more difficult to repair what was here than to rebuild. And dangerous.” He pulled a roll of paper out from his waistband at his back, unrolled it, and held it up for her to see. “I found the house blueprints in the library. With these, we can rebuild a new wing exactly as it was originally planned.”

She couldn’t argue with that. The east wingwasdangerous and needed to be repaired, butthis. . . And an earl leading the work crew, no less. “With only six of you working on it, it’ll take weeks to tear down.”

Far past the time they had left in the will’s clause. Her heart thudded. Did he plan on remaining longer, or would he only make a mess of things here and then leave her to clean it up? Or was this a transformation of his revenge, since he wasn’t able to drive her away any other way?

He shook his head. “Two days at most to bring it down. We’ll run ropes around the beams above and the joists below. Two teams of draft horses will pull on the ropes in opposite directions, and it will all fall in upon itself.” He looked at the structure around them with a touch of pride, his stance wide and his hands on his hips. Every inch of him proclaimed a lord surveying his keep. “Then we’ll cart away the rubble and rebuild the wing on the same plan as before, but better.” His eyes found hers, and the earnestness in their depths made her breath hitch. “And stay true to the history of the manor house, just as you want.”

Her chest warmed, but she was too proud to admit how much she appreciated his thoughtfulness. “Ropes and four horses?” She shook her head. “Impossible.”

“This wing wasn’t part of the original house. It was added later and not integrally attached to the main. Now it’s separating.” He slapped one of the nearby beams. “We’ll help it down and make certain no one gets hurt when we do.” He pointed at the row of wooden arches in what was once the attic. “Do you see that odd-shaped wooden beam connecting the top of each arch? Functions as a capstone. We take that beam down at the same time we pull out the side timbers on the ground floor, and we’ll bring it all down, folding in upon itself.”

She eyed him warily. She wanted to believe, and yet . . . “You won’t hurt the rest of the house?”

“Not beyond a layer of dust and a bit of a rumble.” He grinned. “But we’ll clear everyone out first, just in case.”

“Just in case,” she repeated dubiously, gazing up at the beams overhead. She tried to see what he did, but all she saw was a jumble of old timbers and boards. “How do you know it will work?”

“The army. I was assigned to protect the engineers responsible for building bridges, roads, tunnels . . . whatever the army needed to march into France. Those same men were also responsible for blowing up and knocking down the enemy’s structures. I learned a few things about loads, stresses, and counter-stresses while watching them.” He looked up thoughtfully at the beams arching overhead. “Of course, I was responsible for keeping the engineers alive, not becoming one of them.”

“It seems you did anyway,” she acknowledged quietly, remembering what he told her that day in Davidson’s office, how he’d planted and set off the explosives that destroyed the French bridge and won the battle. When his gaze flickered proudly, she cleared her throat and retreated onto safer ground with him—anger. “A bit presumptuous of you to make changes without consulting me.”

“Well, I do own half the house.”

“Yes,” she agreed, “the half you’re currently knocking down.”

A grin tugged at his lips. “You can have the west wing, if you want.”

“What Iwantis the guest list for my wedding.” She narrowed her eyes on him. “I’d planned to work on the arrangements this afternoon.”

Which had become a bothersome headache since her mother had taken it upon herself to move the ceremony from Edinburgh to the village church in Kincardine without asking her first. Mama had sent out a flurry of notes to all the guests to inform them that the wedding would now be held in the same church where the Rowlands had been married for generations, with the breakfast hosted at Highburn. Arabel had been struck too hard by the pride her mother felt over how the new plans would incorporate all the old traditions to overrule her. Now she had to somehow find accommodations in Kincardine for all the guests.

And Garrick wasn’t helping.

“Imagine my surprise to find the list missing.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Another attempt to drive me away?”

He laughed at that, which only irritated her more. “If knocking down half the house doesn’t drive you way, a missing list certainly won’t.” When she opened her mouth to give him the set-down he deserved, he interjected, “Where was it?”

“On the drawing room tea table. I put them there last night when—”

He held up his hand and stopped her midsentence, then took a pace to the right where several sheets of paper lay across the floor. He sorted through them. With a grin that Arabel thought was more smug than triumphant, he held up the list. “Must have gotten mixed in with the architectural plans this morning when I met in there with the men.”

She snatched the list from his hand. “How convenient,” she muttered.

“An accident, Arabel. Why do you assume more?”

“From the man who swore revenge against my family?” she countered wryly, keeping her voice low so that the workmen couldn’t overhear as they continued to tear down the walls. “I cannot fathom why I wouldn’t trust you.”

The amusement faded from his face. “Youcantrust me. That hasn’t changed.”