Read Online Heroes are My Weakness by Susan Elizabeth Phillips - Free Book Online
Authors: Susan Elizabeth Phillips
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“but I ignored her.” She needed to make sure he understood. “I’m not as nice as I used to be.”
Jaycie made a small noise instead of keeping quiet as she should have, which sent Theo’s attention back to her. “You know what our deal is, Jaycie.”
Jaycie curled Livia against her breasts. “I tried to keep Livia out of your way, but . . .”
“This isn’t going to work,” he said flatly. “We’ll have to come up with another arrangement.” And with that lofty proclamation, he turned to leave, as if there was no more to say.
Let him go! Crumpet urged.
But Annie couldn’t, and she dashed in front of him. “What bad movie did you step out of? Look at her!” She pointed her finger toward Jaycie, hoping he wouldn’t notice that it wasn’t altogether steady. “You’re really thinking about throwing a penniless widow and her child out into the snow? Has your heart completely turned to stone? Never mind. Rhetorical question.”
He regarded her with the annoyed expression of someone being buzzed by a pesky mosquito. “What part of this is your business?”
She hated confrontation, but Scamp didn’t, so she channeled her alter ego. “The part of me that’s a compassionate human being. Stop me if ‘compassionate’ is a word you don’t understand.” His imperial blue eyes darkened. “Livia won’t be going into the stable again because you’re going to remember to lock the door. And your housekeeper has been doing a great job, despite her broken foot. You’ve been getting your meals, haven’t you? Look at this kitchen. It’s spotless.” An exaggeration, so she zeroed in on what she suspected was his weak spot. “If you fire Jaycie, Cynthia will hire someone else. Just think. Another stranger invading your privacy. Poking around Harp House. Watching you. Disturbing your work. Even trying to have a conversation with you. Is that what you want?”
Even as she drew a wheezy breath, she read her victory in the slight tightening of his eyelids, the vague downward tilt at the corners of his too-beautiful mouth.
He glanced toward Jaycie, who was still sitting on the floor with Livia cradled in her arms. “I’m going out for a couple of hours,” he said brusquely. “Clean up the turret while I’m gone. Leave the third floor alone.”
He stormed out the door with nearly as much force as when he’d come in.
Livia had her thumb in her mouth. Jaycie kissed both of her cheeks before setting her aside and pulling herself up with her crutches. “I can’t believe you talked to him like that.”
Annie couldn’t believe it either.
T HE TURRET HAD TWO ENTRANCES : one from the outside and another from the second floor of the house. Jaycie’s difficulty managing steps meant Annie was the one who had to do the job.
The turret was built on a higher foundation than the rest of Harp House, so its first floor was on the same level as Harp House’s second floor, and the door at the end of the house’s upstairs hallway opened directly into the turret’s main living area. Nothing seemed to have changed since the days when the twins’ grandmother had stayed here. The angular, beige walls served as a backdrop for overstuffed furnishings from the 1980s, pieces that were worn in places and sun-faded from the row of windows facing the ocean.
A worn Persian rug covered most of the wooden parquet floor, and a beige couch with big rolled arms and fringed pillows sat beneath a pair of amateur landscape oil paintings. A set of big wooden floor candlesticks holding tall, chunky white candles with unlit wicks and dusty tops stood beneath a pendulum clock whose hands had stopped at eleven and four. This was the only part of Harp House that didn’t seem to have regressed two hundred years, but it was just as gloomy.
She made her way into the small galley kitchen where the dumbwaiter occupied the end wall. Instead of a pile of dirty dishes, the crockery that had been sent up from the main kitchen with Theo’s
Jaycie made a small noise instead of keeping quiet as she should have, which sent Theo’s attention back to her. “You know what our deal is, Jaycie.”
Jaycie curled Livia against her breasts. “I tried to keep Livia out of your way, but . . .”
“This isn’t going to work,” he said flatly. “We’ll have to come up with another arrangement.” And with that lofty proclamation, he turned to leave, as if there was no more to say.
Let him go! Crumpet urged.
But Annie couldn’t, and she dashed in front of him. “What bad movie did you step out of? Look at her!” She pointed her finger toward Jaycie, hoping he wouldn’t notice that it wasn’t altogether steady. “You’re really thinking about throwing a penniless widow and her child out into the snow? Has your heart completely turned to stone? Never mind. Rhetorical question.”
He regarded her with the annoyed expression of someone being buzzed by a pesky mosquito. “What part of this is your business?”
She hated confrontation, but Scamp didn’t, so she channeled her alter ego. “The part of me that’s a compassionate human being. Stop me if ‘compassionate’ is a word you don’t understand.” His imperial blue eyes darkened. “Livia won’t be going into the stable again because you’re going to remember to lock the door. And your housekeeper has been doing a great job, despite her broken foot. You’ve been getting your meals, haven’t you? Look at this kitchen. It’s spotless.” An exaggeration, so she zeroed in on what she suspected was his weak spot. “If you fire Jaycie, Cynthia will hire someone else. Just think. Another stranger invading your privacy. Poking around Harp House. Watching you. Disturbing your work. Even trying to have a conversation with you. Is that what you want?”
Even as she drew a wheezy breath, she read her victory in the slight tightening of his eyelids, the vague downward tilt at the corners of his too-beautiful mouth.
He glanced toward Jaycie, who was still sitting on the floor with Livia cradled in her arms. “I’m going out for a couple of hours,” he said brusquely. “Clean up the turret while I’m gone. Leave the third floor alone.”
He stormed out the door with nearly as much force as when he’d come in.
Livia had her thumb in her mouth. Jaycie kissed both of her cheeks before setting her aside and pulling herself up with her crutches. “I can’t believe you talked to him like that.”
Annie couldn’t believe it either.
T HE TURRET HAD TWO ENTRANCES : one from the outside and another from the second floor of the house. Jaycie’s difficulty managing steps meant Annie was the one who had to do the job.
The turret was built on a higher foundation than the rest of Harp House, so its first floor was on the same level as Harp House’s second floor, and the door at the end of the house’s upstairs hallway opened directly into the turret’s main living area. Nothing seemed to have changed since the days when the twins’ grandmother had stayed here. The angular, beige walls served as a backdrop for overstuffed furnishings from the 1980s, pieces that were worn in places and sun-faded from the row of windows facing the ocean.
A worn Persian rug covered most of the wooden parquet floor, and a beige couch with big rolled arms and fringed pillows sat beneath a pair of amateur landscape oil paintings. A set of big wooden floor candlesticks holding tall, chunky white candles with unlit wicks and dusty tops stood beneath a pendulum clock whose hands had stopped at eleven and four. This was the only part of Harp House that didn’t seem to have regressed two hundred years, but it was just as gloomy.
She made her way into the small galley kitchen where the dumbwaiter occupied the end wall. Instead of a pile of dirty dishes, the crockery that had been sent up from the main kitchen with Theo’s
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