While the Duke Was Sleeping (The Rogue Files #1)(73)

Hopefully she had pushed him to safety without harming him too much. If the result wasn’t death or coma, she could count herself successful.

The horses screamed in protest nearby as the driver pulled hard on the reins, still trying to get them to stop.

She looked down at Struan beneath her.

The big, fuming Scot glared up at her, his face drawn tight in lines of pain. “What the hell was that?”

The air left her in a rush and she couldn’t even make herself move for a moment. She let out a great exhale, assessing herself for injuries. Everything felt fine. Nothing broken.

“You’re welcome.” She clambered off him.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” he demanded.

“No, just saving your life,” she returned.

“At risk to yourself?” He closed his eyes and let loose a curse. “You did it again, Poppy.”

“That’s right, you oaf. I did.” She propped her hands on her hips. “I did it for you because I didn’t relish you being flattened and killed.”

She noticed then that there was a deathly pallor to his face—as though all the blood had been leeched from his body. “Are you hurt?” Dear Heavens. What if he was harmed?

She quickly looked him over. She didn’t note any obvious injuries. His broad chest rose and fell with labored breaths but he appeared otherwise healthy.

“You’ll be the death of me yet, but I’m well. You can’t take such risks—”

“People take risks for those they care about,” she shot back, only realizing she had said that once before. When he’d criticized her for shoving Autenberry out of the way, she had said the same thing. People take risks for those they care about.

It was the truth then and now. Now more than ever.

He stilled, a strange look coming over his face. They locked eyes and she knew he was remembering that, too. He hadn’t forgotten her words either.

“Poppy.” He whispered her name almost in reverence and she shivered. Clearing her throat, she glanced around and noticed they were the subjects of many fascinated stares. “What did you say?”

His question drew her gaze back to him. “I said: People take risks for those they care about.”

Silence met her reply. Although there was all manner of people and sounds around them it was as though they were the last two people on earth. A muscle feathered in his cheek, ticcing madly.

His lips quirked and he finally found his voice. “So you care about me?”

She felt her heart pound savage and wild in her chest, desperate to break free.

This was it, then. The moment of truth. Her truth. She moistened her lips but before she could form the inevitable answer, he continued. “Poppy, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with Autenberry?” There was some scorn in his voice as he asked this, as though he had thought to grab the question and arm himself with it at the last moment.

“You left . . .” she began.

“You didn’t think the duke would want me to stay, did you? You know I would have to go once he woke.” His lips twisted. “Even if he hadn’t demanded it of me, it was for the best. All things considered.”

She nodded. All things considered. Meaning her lie.

He still thought she was Autenberry’s fiancée. He thought she wanted his brother over him.

She sucked in a deep breath. That was why he had left. He thought that now that Autenberry was awake she belonged with him.

“I lied to you,” she blurted. Finally, she said it. She said it and she could only hope he would not hate her. That he would understand . . .

He angled his head, looking at her intently as though he were trying to pull back all her layers and see to the core of her. “What do you mean?”

“Forgive my boy, sir.” A red-faced woman pushed close to interrupt them. “I’ve my hands full with—”

“Quite all right,” Struan replied, not even glancing at the woman as he seized Poppy’s hand and pulled her after him, charging through the gathered crowd and cutting a direct line for the inn—his inn. He marched them through the main door and up one flight of stairs. A small group was singing carols in the taproom and their discordant rendition of “Old King Wenceslas” followed them.

Her feet raced to keep up with him. His longer strides ate up the floor. He thrust her ahead of him into his room and slammed the door behind them.

Propriety didn’t even signify in this moment as he towered before her, larger than he had ever appeared.

For a moment, her mind reeled with the knowledge that she knew him. In the carnal sense. She had taken this man into her body and felt him unleash himself inside her. They had been as close as two people could physically be. Heat clawed her face and he must have interpreted some of her inner thoughts for his eyes darkened and his gaze dropped to her mouth in that way that reminded her of the moments before he kissed her.

He took a step and she retreated back another. She could not permit him to touch her again until she told him everything. Until everything was out in the open between them. Then, after she stood before him with no lies hovering, if he still wanted to touch her, he could. He could have all of her—heart, soul, and body. If.

“As I was saying, I haven’t been honest with you.”

“I know.” His deep brogue rolled over her.