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again…and again…and again with a guttural roar each time. Chunks of bark flew everywhere. One more swing cracked the limb in two.
    “Colin!”
    The feminine cry startled him. Salty drops of sweat stung his eyes as he spied Angeline running toward him. “Hell,” he muttered.
    He let the ax drop and wiped his eyes on his shirtsleeve. He glanced over his shoulder at the two laborers. “Go on,” he said gruffly. They pulled on their forelocks again and retreated as if they’d just witnessed a madman. He certainly felt like one.
    The cold wind picked up, blowing through the damp linen of his shirt. He gritted his teeth.
    Angeline reached him. “You’ll make yourself ill in nothing but that thin shirt,” she said breathlessly.
    “Angeline, leave. I’m not fit for company.” He picked up the ax again. “Go,” he said.
    “No, I will not leave you in this condition. Obviously you are in a state.”
    “For the last time, please leave,” he gritted out.
    Her eyes widened. “You’re furious.”
    “If you have any sense, you will leave. Now go.” God, why did she of all people have to witness his ire?
    “You cannot stay out in the cold in that thin, damp shirt. You will make yourself very ill and worry your family.”
    His nostrils flared. “Please go before I say something I regret.”
    “Go ahead, but you’ll not stop me.” She unrolled his left sleeve and then his right. He looked at her from beneath his damp lashes. Her plump breasts rose and fell with each visible breath. He made himself look away. She might be comely and curvaceous, but she was trouble.
    When she lifted her lashes, her eyes grew huge as she looked at the dark hair showing through the V in his shirt.
    “What is it?” he asked. He rather hoped the husky sound of his voice would scare her off.
    She cleared her throat and appeared to be looking over his shoulder. “You cannot go about with your cravat undone.”
    He huffed. “That’s rich.” He’d gone about with far fewer clothes on many occasions, but he thought better of mentioning that in her presence.
    She lifted her chin, stepped closer, and closed the three buttons of his shirt. Her scent was familiar—something flowery. That thought reminded him. “Don’t. I stink of sweat.”
    She flipped his shirt points up. “My nose will survive.”
    He watched as she pulled the two long tails of linen to an even length. Then she hesitated.
    He winked and deftly wrapped the cloth round his throat. “Perhaps you could tie a knot?”
    She managed on the third try. “It looks awful. I would make a terrible valet.”
    “A lady valet?” He envisioned a naked woman undressing him. “Brings to mind a number of possibilities.”
    She drew her large paisley shawl closed. “Mind your tongue.”
    Naturally he thought of several wicked uses for his tongue, but he pushed that out of his thoughts.
    She looked up at him, her green eyes full of questions. “What possessed you to wield that ax?”
    “Never mind.”
    “You looked enraged.”
    He retrieved his coat from the limb but said nothing.
    “What were you angry about?”
    “An unpleasant conversation.”
    “So you walked out without hat, gloves, or greatcoat?”
    He had no intention of explaining anything to her. “I’m made of sturdy stuff.”
    Her gaze slid over him. “Yes, I noticed.”
    “Like what you see?”
    Her eyes narrowed. “I should have known you would say something indelicate.”
    “I warned you I’m not fit for company.” If she had any sense, she would have fled after seeing him hacking that tree limb.
    “Really, you must change into dry clothes as soon as possible.”
    “I’ll do.” He started to slide his arm through the sleeve of his coat when she stepped forward to help him.
    “I can manage.” He didn’t want her help. He wanted her to leave him in peace.
    “I insist. Now lift your arm.”
    He knew she would persist, so he allowed her to help.
    “Your shirt is damp with perspiration, and the coat