Free An Unlikely Match by Sarah M. Eden Page B

behaved.”
    There had to be more to it than that. “And . . .” Nickolas prodded.
    “And”—she tossed her head of ghostly red hair—“he was far more enjoyable a companion than most of his contemporaries.” It sounded as if the words were being ripped from her involuntarily.
    “Because he tended to laugh rather than rant and rave.”
    “That might have had something to do with it.” She noticeably fought the admission.
    “Am I an enjoyable companion?” Nickolas asked, one of his famous smiles slipping across his face. “What with my tendency to laugh and all?”
    She seemed even more put out with him than before. Why he enjoyed ruffling her feathers, Nickolas couldn’t say. The breeze in the room picked up again, and Nickolas thought it time to change topics.
    “You’ll notice that Miss Castleton has been relocated,” he said. “You have your room back again.”
    “Except you are still in it,” she snapped back.
    Nickolas chuckled, though he probably ought to have been worried. He’d been warned not to earn her ire. Everyone else seemed to think such a thing inexcusably foolhardy. He had a suspicion, though he couldn’t say where the conviction came from, that Gwen was more inclined to be quiet and unobtrusive than the legend would suggest. He couldn’t help thinking that she became fearsome more out of necessity than character.
    Something about his unplanned laughter brought a change in Gwen’s countenance. Her eyes lost their snapping pride and became infinitesimally pleading. “Your claim to the rest of the house, despite my longer residence, supersedes my own. You have ownership of everything else. But this room is mine. It is mine. And I want it back.”
    “Promise you won’t vandalize the place again?” Nickolas asked, teasing her further.
    “I would not have done any of that if you hadn’t forced me to.”
    “I forced you to tie your own bed curtains in knots?” He laughed in amused disbelief.
    “Mrs. Baines told you to leave my room empty, but you wouldn’t. When Miss Castleton first requested to be moved, you talked her into staying. You forced me to run her out.” The curtains snapped in a sudden, angry wind.
    Run her out. That was the phrase that did it. Gwen had scared Miss Castleton—quite a bit, actually. Nickolas ought to have thought of that slightly sooner, but he’d been distracted. With the memory once again in the forefront of his mind, he found himself growing upset with the vexing specter. “Was it necessary to upset my guest so much?” he asked, feeling the tension inside growing.
    “It would not have been if you had acted reasonably. Any of the former owners of Tŷ Mynydd would have seen the error of their ways far sooner than you have.”
    So now the whole mess was his fault? He hadn’t made a mess of the bedchamber. He hadn’t put on that ridiculous display around the pianoforte. He hadn’t gone about the house nearly knocking people over in gusts of ill-directed anger. And to question his suitability to be master of his own home? It was the outside of enough.
    “Regardless of your opinion of my suitability, I am the current master of Tŷ Mynydd. You would do well to resign yourself to that fact.”
    His curt tone had no noticeable impact on her. If anything, she grew cold and authoritative once more. “You would do well, Nickolas Pritchard, to ask around the neighborhood before declaring which of us must accommodate the other. You will find that four hundred years of history is against your chances of pushing me in any direction I do not choose to go.”
    “Were you this much trouble when you were alive?” Nickolas asked almost bitingly.
    “Only when I had to be,” she answered, quite on her dignity.
    “Then it’s a wonder anyone mourned your passing.”
    With that parting shot, Nickolas left, jaw tight, shoulders tense, marching all the way to his own room. He tossed himself down into a chair near his bedroom window, feeling oddly spent, as