Read Online Dedicated Villain by Patricia Veryan - Free Book Online Page A

is,” Bradford interpolated irritably. “And furthermore, Torrey, it might well have been another type of man who found my child alone and unprotected! I thank the good Lord a gentleman of Mathieson’s moral calibre came upon her! No thanks to you! Be damned if I’m not of a mind to leave you in this wilderness!”
    â€œYou cannot,” sulked Torrey. “You need me to guide you to the—”
    â€œEstate,” put in Bradford hurriedly. He turned to Mathieson. “We journey to the estate of Lord … Tyson, who is—”
    â€œMy uncle,” declared Torrey, just as hurriedly.
    Mathieson looked curiously from one to the other, then sat up in sudden alarm. “Jupiter! My horse should have been rubbed down half an hour since!”
    â€œNot by you, young fella,” said Bradford. “Not with that hand. Torrey will tend the animal.”
    Mathieson frowned. “Thank you, but—no, sir. I shall—”
    â€œYou’ll stay where you are. Oh, never fear, m’boy. Torrey’s a block at times, but he’s a good man with horses.”
    His smile forced, Torrey muttered something about making amends, and went out.
    Mathieson settled down again. “Sir—will he …”
    â€œNever fear. He may feel like pummelling you, but he won’t take it out on your hack, I’ll say that for him. You set a store by that big stallion of yours, eh?”
    â€œYes. He is one in a million.”
    â€œI see.” For a moment Bradford watched the candlelight flicker on the lean planes of the remarkable face in the opposite bunk. Then, he leaned forward, hands clasped between his knees. “I feel the same about my daughter.” He flushed again as he saw Mathieson’s brows lift slightly. “Oh, I know you must think otherwise. And—God help me, ’tis true I’ve been a sorry failure as a father!”
    â€œIs none of my affair, Mr. Bradford. I’d not presume to—”
    â€œI know, I know. But you saved the lass. You’re entitled to an explanation.”
    Mathieson was more tired than curious, but he listened resignedly.
    â€œMy wife, sir,” said Bradford, staring at his hands, “was the very loveliest little creature that ever walked upon this green earth. You’ve seen Fiona … how beautiful she is …” He shrugged. “Need I say more?”
    â€˜Considerably,’ thought Mathieson cynically, but he smiled and strove to look sympathetic. “You are a widower, sir?”
    â€œYes. Since ’39, alas— And I am doomed, for I shall never find the like of my lovely Cassandra.” A sparkle came into the fine brown eyes. He added with a grin, “Besides, with so many lovelies, ’tis far more gratifying not to be confined to one … eh, m’boy?”
    Mathieson laughed and became less drowsy. “Couldn’t agree more, Mr. Bradford.”
    â€œAha! I fancied you were a young rascal and had a thing or two in common with me!” He was still smiling, but now the smile did not reach his eyes. “Good thing Torrey and I arrived—when we did, eh?”
    â€œYou’re wondering if you really were in time, are you sir?” Mathieson said gravely, “I’ll be honest. Where
l’amour
is concerned, I rate myself something of a—skilled artisan. Had I not been covered in mud, been hampered by a twisted thumb and a wrenched ankle, I might well have regarded a pretty girl, alone in a caravan, as a choice delicacy—” He saw Bradford’s eyes narrow and the strong fists clench, and went on levelly, “However—even in that event, sir, I have never yet found it either necessary, desirable, or in any way the business of a gentleman, to force a reluctant girl. I’ll own to being a rascal. I resent being judged a libertine.”
    For a long moment the eyes of the two men held steady and stern. Then Bradford nodded.