Page 68 of Duke of Storme
“Lord Rutherford,” she said, offering a curtsy that was perfectly correct without being subservient. “What a lovely surprise. I hope your journey wasn’t too arduous?”
“Any journey would be worth making to find myself in such charming company,” Rutherford replied, taking her offered hand and holding it perhaps a moment longer than strictly necessary. His thumb brushed across her knuckles in a gesture that could have been accidental but almost certainly wasn’t.
The possessive fury that swept through Finn was even more intense that what he’d felt watching Sir James with Diana. Each instance seemed to grow stronger, as though his carefully controlled emotions were gathering force.
Watching another man touch Diana, even in the most socially acceptable way, made him want to commit violence.
“You’re very kind,” Diana said, gently extricating her hand with the sort of practiced grace that suggested she’d dealt with forward gentlemen before. “I trust you’ll stay for tea? Mrs. Glenwright would never forgive me if I let a guest leave without proper refreshment.”
“I would be delighted,” Rutherford replied, his smile becoming more pronounced as he studied her face with obvious appreciation. “Though I confess, the company is invitation enough.”
The smooth flattery rolled off his tongue with practiced ease, and Finn found himself studying the man with new eyes. Lord Rutherford was perhaps five years his senior, with the kind of polished attractiveness that came from generations of good breeding and careful grooming. His clothes were impeccably tailored in the latest London fashion, his manner effortlessly charming, and he had the confident air of a man who was accustomed to getting what he wanted.
Particularly from women.
Finn had heard stories, of course. Rutherford’s reputation as a charmer was well-established throughout Scotland’s noble circles. His late wife had been a considerable heiress, and her death had left him with a title, a crumbling estate, and debts that required either careful economy or a wealthy second marriage to resolve. Given the man’s obvious preference for luxury and leisure, Finn suspected which option he was pursuing.
“Shall we adjourn to the morning room?” Diana suggested, already moving in that direction with the unconscious authority she’d developed since taking charge of Storme’s household. “I believe the light is particularly lovely at this time of day.”
As they settled themselves around the tea service, Finn found himself relegated to the role of observer while Rutherford deployed his considerable charm with surgical precision. The morning room, with its newly restored windows and comfortable furniture, provided an intimate setting that seemed designed for the kind of conversation Rutherford clearly had in mind.
“I must say, Duchess, Storme has grown remarkably more welcoming since your arrival,” Rutherford said, accepting a delicate porcelain cup with practiced ease. His fingers lingered near Diana’s as she passed him the sugar, and Finn noticed the way his eyes tracked her every movement. “It’s no wonder the air itself feels lighter. There’s something about a woman’s touch that can transform even the most austere environment.”
Diana’s cheeks colored slightly at the compliment, but her response was characteristically thoughtful. “You’re verygenerous, my lord. Though I think perhaps the castle simply needed someone willing to see its potential rather than dwelling on its reputation for gloom.”
“Spoken like a true gardener,” Rutherford observed with obvious approval, leaning forward in his chair as though drawn by some magnetic force. “Tell me, do you garden as well as you host? I imagine someone with your obvious talent for nurturing beauty must have a way with growing things.”
The question seemed innocent enough on the surface, but something in Rutherford’s tone made Finn’s attention sharpen. There was a quality to the man’s interest that went beyond polite conversation – a subtle undercurrent that suggested he was thinking of things Diana might nurture that had nothing to do with plants.
“Only when the soil allows it,” Diana replied, her own tone carefully neutral though Finn caught the slight tightening around her eyes that suggested she’d noticed the subtext as well. “Some roots don’t take easily to change, no matter how much attention they receive.”
Her glance toward Finn was brief but unmistakable, and he felt heat stir in his chest at the implied comparison. Was she speaking of gardening, or of the careful cultivation their own relationship had required? The way she’d had to patiently work past his defenses, tending to something that had seemed determined to remain barren?
“How fascinating,” Rutherford murmured, his voice taking on an even more intimate quality as he moved his chair slightly closer to Diana’s. “I’ve always found that with the right care and attention, even the most stubborn plants can be coaxed to bloom. It’s simply a matter of understanding what they need – warmth, perhaps, or a gentler hand than they’ve been accustomed to.”
The conversation was growing increasingly layered with meaning, and Finn found himself fighting the urge to interrupt. There was something in the way Rutherford looked at Diana – something hungry and calculating that set every instinct he possessed on high alert. The man was hunting, and he’d clearly identified his prey.
“Perhaps,” Diana said carefully, though Finn could see the slight flush that crept up her neck at Rutherford’s implications. “Though I’ve learned that some gardens require patience rather than persistence. Forcing growth rarely produces lasting results.”
“Wise words indeed,” Rutherford agreed. “Though I confess myself curious about your methods. The gardens at Storme were reportedly quite neglected before your arrival, yet I’m told they’re now among the finest in the Highlands. Such a transformation suggests remarkable skill.”
Finn knew for a fact that Rutherford had no particular interest in gardening – the man’s own estate was notorious for its overgrown grounds and neglected landscaping. But he was using the topic as a vehicle for something else entirely, a wayto establish intimacy and shared interest with Diana while ostensibly maintaining proper conversation.
“Would you perhaps consider showing me your hothouses later in the week?” Rutherford continued, his tone becoming more direct. “I’m planning to establish new gardens at Thornfield and would value your expertise. I’m sure we could find much to discuss regarding... cultivation techniques.”
The pause before ‘cultivation techniques’ was loaded with implication, and Finn felt something snap inside his chest. Before Diana could respond, he found himself speaking, his voice cutting through the civilized atmosphere like a blade.
“My wife is occupied,” he said, his tone brooking no argument. “Storme doesn’t run itself, and her responsibilities here are considerable.”
Both Diana and Rutherford turned to look at him with obvious surprise – Diana because of the possessive edge in his voice, Rutherford because of the direct challenge to his carefully laid plans.
Rutherford’s eyebrows rose at the interruption, and his smile took on a slightly mocking quality. “Pity,” he said, his voice carrying just enough insolence to make Finn’s teeth clench. “I imagine the Duchess is far more pleasant company than yourself, Your Grace. And considerably more... enlightening on matters of cultivation.”
The insult was delivered with such polished smoothness that it took a moment for its full impact to register. When it did, Finn felt something dark and hungry stir in his chest – the same cold fury that had served him well during naval battles, when enemies needed to be identified and neutralized.
“And far more discerning,” he replied, his own smile sharp enough to cut glass. “Particularly when it comes to recognizing the difference between genuine interest and mere... opportunism.”
An uncomfortable silence fell over the room, thick with tension that had moved far beyond the bounds of polite conversation. Diana set down her teacup with careful precision. The gentle clink of porcelain against saucer was unnaturally loud in the sudden quiet.
