Page 78 of For a Scot's Heart Only

His mouth dented handsomely. “What if I ignore your warning?”

“Then you do so at your own peril.”

Thomas West loomed, his presence sending a delicious shiver across her limbs. “Pirates ignore the rules,Miss Fletcher. Especially when they’re hunting sirens.”

Chapter Twenty

Mr. West’s siren hunt had been cut short when Mr. Philip Miller, chief gardener, approached. A Scotsman, as it were, long in residence with a passion for collecting and nurturing plants and trees from around the world. Mr. Miller’s guided tour couldn’t cool the heated waters between her and Thomas.

Mary wished she had a fan. She needed one to counter Thomas’s hot gaze. He was irked and unsatisfied. A deadly combination.

“Careful, Mr. West,” she murmured upon entering the Bermuda Glasshouse. “Or you’ll burn the house down with that stare of yours.”

“Just wait until I get you alone tonight,” he whispered behind her ear.

Excitement was the fuel in her veins. It was in the air she breathed, in the quick glances with Thomas. Wide green leaves brushed her seductively. She paused to admire one, holding it up to the light.

“And what will you do,” she whispered, “when we’re alone? Kiss me? Or question me?”

Thomas admired the leaf, his finger teasing hers.

“Only kisses and questions, Miss Fletcher? Is that all you think I’ll do to you?” He tsk-tsked. “Your imagination needs fewer rules.”

Which dried her mouth.

“I’ll help you break them all.” His grin was positively piratical.

Thomas wandered after Mr. Miller, who was blathering on, unaware a subtle siege was taking place behind him. Mary tried to collect herself. Bermuda Glasshouse was sultry, the banana trees exotic, and her limbs sluggish. And she was getting so, so... hot. She slipped free of her cloak.

Mr. Miller was rocking on his toes, waiting. “Miss Fletcher, have you had a banana fruit?”

“No. I’m afraid mine is a limited existence.” She eyed Thomas. “Too much restraint, I think.”

The master gardener’s brow looked puzzled. “With fruit?”

“With everything,” Thomas intoned.

She was airy, brushing past him. “A man can’t always get what he wants, now, can he?”

Mr. Miller trailed after her, puzzled. “I suppose not. Bananas are a costly fruit.”

A table with silver and fine dishes had been laid out. She went to it and draped her cloak over the back of a seat.

“Indeed, too costly.” This was, she hoped, her final salvo, delivered with a pointed look at Thomas.

He helped her settle into her chair. “Tell that to men who risk life and limb at sea.”

“Doing what? Hunting sirens?” she teased under her breath.

“No. Just me, hunting you,” Thomas murmured above her ear.

She dug her fingernails into her serviette to stop from quivering. It didn’t work.

“Some treasures are worth the risk,” her scarred pirate said before taking his seat. To Mr. Miller, “Earlier, you mentioned the gardens have several first editions of Mr. John Gerard’sThe Herbal or General History of Plants.I’d like to purchase a copy for my mother.”

Mr. Miller snapped his serviette straight. “Consider it done.”

How did Mr. West manage to reassemble himself so easily? Her nerves sparked like popping embers.