What the Hart Wants - Fiona Davenport Page 0,54
host has left, I should go.”
“Quite so.”
Fraser rose and stretched out his hand. Sir Thomas took it, a self-satisfied smile on his face.
“I wish you every success in your business ventures, Sir Thomas,” Fraser said, “unless, of course, we emerge as business rivals.”
“If we find ourselves in pursuit of the same assets, I believe I’ll emerge the victor,” Sir Thomas said.
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
Sir Thomas tightened his grip, pulled Fraser close, and lowered his voice.
“You must think me a fool,” he said.
“Of course not.”
“Perhaps you believe your barbaric Scottish ways are more likely to secure the spoils.”
“I don’t understand you,” Fraser said.
“Yes, you do.” Sir Thomas’s face twisted into a scowl. “Shall I tell you what I think?”
“If you must,” Fraser said.
“You should leave her alone.”
“Who?”
Sir Thomas let out a huff. “Don’t be a fool!” he said. “Leave Miss Hart alone and stop pestering her.”
“I wasn’t aware I was pestering anybody,” Fraser said. “Miss Hart knows her own mind. If she found my company abhorrent, I’d be the first to know.”
“She doesn’t always know what’s best for her,” Sir Thomas said. “Women are easily persuaded, which is why you were able to spirit her away to some godforsaken wilderness with none to protect her.”
“She had a chaperone all the time she was in Scotland,” Fraser said. “Not that it’s any concern of yours.”
“Then why did she return so downhearted?” Sir Thomas asked. “What did you do to her when you had her in your clutches?”
Fraser laughed. “I believe she rather enjoyed being in my—as you put it—clutches, very much. At least it sounded like she did.”
Sir Thomas’s face turned red. “Why, you damned bloody savage!” he cried. “You come here with your uncouth ways and fanciful ideas. Mark my words, you’ll sing a different tune when the mob turns on you. As for Miss Hart, she’s mine, and if you’ve defiled her, I’ll bloody well…”
“Stop!” a female voice shrieked.
Both men turned.
Lilah stood in the doorway, hands fisted at her sides, her face flushed.
“How dare you discuss me!” she cried.
How much had she overheard?
“Miss Hart,” Fraser said, “Forgive me, but…”
She silenced him by raising her hand. “I was speaking to Sir Thomas. Did I hear aright, sir, that you believe me incapable of knowing my own mind?”
“Delilah…” Sir Thomas protested, but she interrupted him.
“How dare you address me with such familiarity!” she cried. “Please leave.”
“Delilah, please listen to reason. I have your best interests at heart.” He gestured toward Fraser. “This man is a savage whose intentions are dishonorable. He has no claim over you, whereas I…”
“That’s enough!” she said. “If you won’t be told, I’ll summon the servants and have you thrown out.”
“I think you should honor the lady’s request,” Fraser said, “unless you wish to see my savagery unleashed.”
“But I’m Mr. Hart’s guest,” Sir Thomas said, “and he’s my particular friend.”
“And do you know what else he is?” Fraser asked, raising his hands.
“What?”
Fraser smiled. “Not here.”
Sir Thomas stepped back. “You can go to the devil,” he said, then he addressed Miss Hart.
“Dearest, Delilah,” he said. “I care about you. I…”
“You only care about yourself,” she interrupted. “Just go, Tommie Tiptoes.”
His face darkened into a scowl, then he issued a bow and left. Shortly after, Fraser heard the front doors open and close.
“I thought he’d never go. Miss Hart, I’m sorry you had to hear what I said to him. I meant no disrespect.”
She bit her lip and looked away. Had her visit to Scotland made her so unhappy? He thought she’d enjoyed herself. Ma had liked her very much, and she’d seen impressed by the distillery. And her lessons…
Her distress was so thick, he could almost taste it. And another sensation, an unwelcome one, threatened to engulf him. The urge to ease her pain. Not just today but forever.
The raw, base lust he’d first harbored for her had been refined, distilled, then left to mature inside his heart until it revealed the truth.
He loved her.
He loved her passion for life, her advocacy for the downtrodden. But most of all, he loved how she was made for him. She responded to the call of the wilderness in his Highland home as if she belonged there. She was his Highland queen, the one woman who could fulfill him.
The urge to claim her completely had besieged him ever since he’d returned to London. And he could deny it no more.
A tear spilled onto her cheek, and he brushed it aside.
“Where’s my terrier?”
A ghost of a smile played on her