Page 9 of Sinfully Mine
His cock twitched again.
And redheads usually had freckles in places other than their cheeks.
His lips tightened.
High cheekbones, which gave Mrs. Black’s perfectly average deep brown eyes a slight tilt at the ends. Drew’s gaze passed once more over her nonexistent décolletage. Unspectacular. Her mouth, though, nowthatwas something deserving of further attention when not formed into an unfriendly rosette, as it was at present.
He wondered if she ever smiled and decided Mrs. Black did not.
“It seems we are at an impasse, Mrs. Black.”
“That we are, Mr. Sinclair.”
“I did you the courtesy of listening to your proposal, but you refuse to even consider mine.” Drew drummed his fingers along the glass. He wasn’t sure what the glass contained. Not brandy, exactly. Or whiskey.
“Very well. I don’t wish to be discourteous.” Mrs. Black picked up the document Patchahoo had prepared, scanning over the pages with little interest, before placing them back on the table. “I do not accept your proposal. Mine is far more beneficial to us both.”
“Mrs. Black—”
“Let me be blunt, Mr. Sinclair. You cannot forcibly remove me from Blackbird Heath nor can you sell my home unless I leave it, which I have no intention of doing.”
According to Patchahoo, that portion of Black’s will was set in stone. Blackbird Heath could not be sold unless Mrs. Blackabandoned the property of her own free will.The wording Black had used was strange, but the meaning was clear. Black had obviously been torn between honoring what he felt was a debt to Drew and the future care of his wife. The older man had probably assumed Drew would give Mrs. Black a lump sum to vacate but hadn’t accounted for his wife’s stubbornness.
“Did you meet your husband over a game of cards?” Drew said, deftly changing the topic of their conversation, purely to irritate her. Mrs. Black had made her dislike of card playing evident within moments of their introduction. “Or perhaps you thought Black cut a fine figure dancing the jig. Oh, I know.” He leaned forward. “You were admiring plow horses and he came upon you.”
Pasting a polite smile on her face, she stated crisply, “That is none of your affair.” A furious breath strained the fabric of her dress.
The liquid in Drew’s glass was overly smoky, which led him to believe it must be whiskey, though the taste was less than appealing. Still better than tea. He took another cautious sip. “I’m merely curious.”
“Had you any decency at all, Mr. Sinclair…” Her cheeks flushed beneath her lightly tanned skin. “You would relinquish Blackbird Heath to me.”
Mrs. Black turned a lovely shade of pink when she was distressed.
“I thought you had already established my lack of decency, Mrs. Black, upon my arrival.” He was doing a poor job of charming this particular widow, something Drew was ordinarily quite good at.
“I knew what sort of gentleman you were after learning you took advantage of an obviously sick and elderly man. Your kindness,” she drawled, voice thick with sarcasm, “by not taking his home that night. You merely decided to delay your greed.”
Mrs. Black had formed a blistering and incorrect opinion of him. He could have told her about Dunnings. Explained that he knew what it was to have your home taken from you. The irony of this horribly awkward situation wasn’t lost on Drew.Mostgentlemen would have taken everything from Black that night. But his conscience had dictated differently. Now he was stuck with this obstinate redhead who couldn’t see that Drew wasn’t tossing her aside as much as offering her a comfortable life. What woman in her right mind would choose the backbreaking labor of holding an entire farm together on her own?
Mrs. Black, apparently.
“You’ve nothing to say in your defense, Mr. Sinclair?” A snort of derision. “I thought not,” Holding up Drew’s proposal, Mrs. Black ripped the document in half before taking great care to tear it into tiny portions which she then tossed up in the air, smiling at him the entire time.
Drew’s cock twitched again. Troublesome organ to be attracted to this harpy.
The bits of paper fluttered down, landing on his arm and in his glass of terrible whiskey. Or whatever was in his glass. The liquid tasted like the ashes of a fire.
Typically, Drew was slow to anger. His older brother, Jordan, and Tamsin, both possessed volatile tempers. Malcolm sometimes behaved like an enraged bull. Drew’s role had always been that of peacemaker among the Sinclairs. The charming brother who believed in negotiation and rarely made waves.
But he’d had quite enough of this cantankerous widow. No matter how prettily she blushed.
“It seems no good deed goes unpunished, Mrs. Black. I will tell you that had you not ripped up my offer, I would have done so.”
She fell back, the smug smile fading.
“When I sell Blackbird Heath, and Iwill, you will no longer receive a portion of the proceeds. There will be nothing for you. Not a farthing.”
“You are not permitted to sell Blackbird Heath while I live here.”
