Page 26 of A Landscape of Love

“Damnation,” Hart muttered, as angry with her as he was concerned. “Where have you checked?”

“All her usual haunts. I’ve been all the way around the lake, too. She’s not there.”

“Right, I’ll look for her. You go back to the house. You’re wet through.”

“So are you,” Alex said indignantly.

“I’ll find her, Alex. Go home.”

Scowling but giving way under the weight of the stare Hart shot him, Alex turned his horse and cantered away, back towards the house.

With a sigh of relief, Hart walked on. He had a fair idea of where Fidelia might have gone, and he didn’t want Alex there if he was right.

As the cottage came into sight, he saw the faint glow of lamplight from one window and the tension singing through him eased a little. Well, at least she was safe, but what the devil was he to do with her now?

Hart paused on the threshold to undo his sodden gaiters and unlaced his boots with frozen fingers. He stepped inside, hanging up his hat and coat where they dripped sullenly onto the stone flagstones.

The small figure huddled in front of a meagre fire looked up as he closed the door behind him. It sent an odd sensation through him, seeing her there, waiting for him.

“I lit the fire,” she said, a slightly defiant note to the words.

He bit back a smile, wondering if she’d ever done such a thing in her life before.

“So, I see, but you need to feed it if you want to get warm.”

Hart went to the hearth and crouched down, stirring the coals to encourage them to burn hotter and adding several more scoops. By the look of her, she was soaked. Once the fire was blazing merrily, he turned back to her, his expression bland.

“You ought not be here,” he pointed out, as much for his own benefit as hers. The knowledge that she had come to him made dangerous emotions he had no business feeling burn hotter. A sudden shaft of resentment struck at him, for she was stirring him up to burn hotter too, making him feel things he had no wish to feel.

“I went to look at the seeds,” she said. “They’ve come up. I wanted to tell you. I don’t know what to do with them now.”

As excuses went, it was a poor one. “They’ll need pricking out soon and potting on into bigger pots. They’ll do for a few days yet, though.”

“You’ll show me how?”

Hart nodded. “I will.” He turned back to the fire, checked the kettle was full, and swung it over the flames. “Alex was looking for you. He’s worried sick, and rightly so, it seems. You’ll catch your death, walking about in this weather and getting wet through. What were you thinking?”

“I told you, checking on the seeds,” she said irritably. “I promised not to kill them, remember?”

“So, you did, but I don’t remember asking you to contract lung fever in the process. Look at you, as sodden as a drowned rat. Do you expect me to dry you off again?” he asked, his own temper warming now as he realised he was worried for her, that he would continue worrying if she had caught a chill, damn her.

Her cheeks flushed, whether with temper or embarrassment, he was not entirely sure. But what was he to do with her? She was cold and wet, but she needed to be anywhere else but here with him, alone. The temptation to get her out of her wet clothes and into his bed was so delicious he was struggling to fight it. It wasn’t as if she was a virgin. The turn of his thoughts made him angrier still, and as furious with himself as much as her. He sorely regretted sending Alex away now, for all his sister’s behaviour might have shocked the boy. Yet he could hardly throw her out into the rain again.

She got to her feet, her saturated skirts hampering her movements and almost pulling her down again. Rising by holding onto the arm of the chair and hauling herself up, Fidelia glared at him. “I beg your pardon for the inconvenience. I’ll go at once. Good evening, Mr—”

She’d taken two steps before Hart grasped her arm.

“Don’t play the martyr, we both know you’re not going out in this weather when you’re already drenched,” he said in frustration. “What the devil are you playing at, my lady, coming here? Are you trying to start people talking about us?”

The flash of anger and pride subsided as quickly as it had arrived, and she looked away from him. “I don’t know why I came. I wasn’t thinking clearly, I suppose. I… I was so angry when I left the house, and I walked for a while to calm down, but then I got cold, and I went to check on the seeds.”

She smiled then, and Hart told himself not to let the warmth of her expression soften his rightful annoyance with her, but it was hard when all he could think of was pressing his mouth against those plush lips.

“They’re growing,” she said, her eyes shining with delight. “I was so utterly wretched when I got there, so very disappointed and then I saw them growing and it was like—” She laughed then, throwing up her hands. “Like a sign from God not to lose hope.”

Despite himself, he smiled. “Then you’d best heed the sign, had you not?”

She shrugged, her expression hard to read now. “Perhaps, but then I came to tell you, and, on the way, it rained harder and harder, and I was frozen to the bone and… and by the time I got here, I felt foolish.”