Tempt Me at Twilight (The Hathaways #3)(83)

“I love kissing you,” he murmured. “It was the worst punishment you could have devised, not letting me do this.”

“It wasn’t a punishment,” Poppy protested. “It’s just that a kiss means something special to me. And after what you’d done, I was afraid to be close to you.”

All hint of amusement left Harry’s expression. He smoothed her hair and drew the backs of his fingers softly along the side of her face. “I won’t betray you again. I know you have no reason to trust me, but in time I hope—”

“I do trust you,” she said earnestly. “I’m not afraid now.”

Harry was baffled by her words, and even more by the intensity of his response to them. An unfamiliar feeling welled up in him, a deep, overwhelming ardor. His voice sounded a bit strange to his own ears as he asked, “How can you trust me when you have no way of knowing if I’m worthy of it?”

The corners of her lips tilted upward. “That’s what trust is, isn’t it?”

Harry couldn’t help kissing her again, adoration and arousal pumping through him. He could barely feel the shape of her body through her skirts, and his hands shook with the urge to pull up the bunches of fabric, remove every obstruction between them. A quick glance along both directions of the path revealed that they were alone and unobserved. It would be so easy to lay her into the soft carpet of leaves and moss, push up her dress, and take her right there in the forest. He pulled her to the side of the path, his fingers clenching in a swath of her skirts.

But he forced himself to stop, breathing hard with the effort to check his desire. He had to be careful with Poppy, considerate of her. She deserved better than to have her husband throwing himself on her in the woods.

“Harry?” she murmured in confusion as he turned her to face away from him.

He held her from behind, his arms crossed around her front. “Say something to distract me,” he said, only half joking. He took a deep breath. “I’m a hairsbreadth away from ravishing you right here.”

Poppy was silent for a moment. Either she was struck mute with horror, or she was considering the possibility. Evidently it was the latter, because she asked, “It can be done outside?”

Despite his fierce arousal, Harry couldn’t help smiling against her neck. “Love, there’s hardly any place it can’t be done. Against trees or walls, in chairs or bathtubs, on staircases or tables . . . balconies, carriages—” He let out a quiet groan. “Damn it, I’ve got to stop this, or I won’t be able to walk back.”

“None of those ways sound very comfortable,” Poppy said.

“You’d like chairs. Chairs I can vouch for.”

A chuckle rippled through her, causing her back to press against his chest.

They both waited until Harry had calmed himself sufficiently to let go of her. “Well,” he said, “this has been a delightful walk. Why don’t we go back, and—”

“But we’re not even halfway done yet,” she protested.

Harry glanced from her expectant face to the long path that extended before them, and he sighed. They linked hands and resumed traversing the ground woven with sun and shadows.

After a minute, Poppy asked, “Do you and Catherine visit each other, or correspond?”

“Hardly ever. We don’t get on well.”

“Why not?”

It wasn’t a subject that Harry liked to think about, much less discuss. And this business of having to talk freely with someone, withholding nothing . . . it was like being perpetually naked, except that Harry would have preferred being literally na**d in lieu of revealing his private thoughts and feelings. However, if that was the price of having Poppy, he’d bloody well pay it.

“At the time I first met Cat,” he said, “she was in a difficult situation. I did as much as possible to help her, but I wasn’t kind about it. I’ve never had much kindness to spare. I could have been better to her. I could have—” He gave an impatient shake of his head. “What’s done is done. I did make certain that she would be financially independent for the rest of her life. She doesn’t have to work, you know.”

“Then why did she apply for a position with the Hathaways? I can’t imagine why she would have wanted to subject herself to the hopeless task of making ladies of Beatrix and me.”

“I imagine she wanted to be with a family. To know what it was like. And to keep from being lonely or bored.” He stopped and gave her a questioning glance. “Why do you say it was a hopeless task? You’re very much a lady.”

“Three failed London seasons,” she pointed out.

Harry made a scoffing sound. “That had nothing to do with being ladylike.”

“Then why?”

“The biggest obstacle was your intelligence. You don’t bother to hide it. One of the things Cat never taught you was how to flatter a man’s vanity—because she doesn’t have any damned idea of how to do it. And none of those idiots could tolerate the idea of having a wife who was smarter than himself. Second, you’re beautiful, which meant they would always have to worry about you being the target of other men’s attentions. On top of that, your family is . . . your family. Basically you were too much to manage, and they all knew they were better off finding dull, docile girls to marry. All except Bayning, who was so taken with you that the attraction eclipsed any other considerations. God knows I can’t hold that against him.”