the subject. And Win wanted to keep his past as an inspector, as due to the oddness of human nature, people tended to open up to former inspectors more than they did actual inspectors.
“What is it about this party that appeals to you?” Despite their situation, relaxation softened his voice and made his gait slow. The gentle strains of Vivaldi drifted over the garden. Walking with Poppy was something he’d always loved to do. To hear her thoughts and to feel her arm pressed against him made his heart light. A butterfly alighted upon the intricate twist of her ginger locks and settled down like a golden ornament.
“None of them care,” she said. “Have you noticed? They aren’t concerned with appearances or doing one better than the other.”
A smile pulled at his lips. “If you are referring to the impromptu swim in the lake we witnessed upon arrival, then I could not agree more.” A swim that did not include clothing.
Her cheeks went a charming shade of strawberry. “Yes, well that, and the general attitude of the party goers. There is such a carefree air. But genuine, which I can hardly comprehend in this day and age.”
He stopped at the end of the arbor where a wood nymph water fountain made gentle music. “A bit too casual, I’m afraid.” He glanced back toward the house, not visible from their vantage point, but there just the same. “We’ve been here three hours and have yet to see our hostess.”
“I suspect we’ll have to wait for this evening.” Her red brows slanted down, highlighting her strong profile. “Do you suppose she’ll keep to that horrid rule of separating the sexes after dinner?”
“Perhaps not,” he said, not really paying attention. The butterfly had fluttered away, but a deep red strand of silken hair had slipped the knot and now coiled about Poppy’s white throat. “Mrs. Noble does not appear to care for society strictures.”
In her butter yellow gown, with her hair piled high, Poppy looked every inch the proper lady, yet he knew the steel core that hid just beneath the surface. But here, with the warm August sunlight dappling her white cheeks and glorious hair, she seemed almost at peace.
Unable to help himself, he stroked the smooth, alabaster curve of her cheek with his thumb, gliding it up a sunlit patch and along the downy tendrils of hair at her temple. She flinched at first contact, but did not step away. Her eyes studied him. They stood close. Close enough that he’d only have to lean forward and he’d be kissing her. He would start soft and mold her mouth with his, before gently opening hers.
His voice came out over-rough when he spoke. “I did not attend to you enough.”
A little furrow deepened between her brows. “What do you mean? You always came home in a timely manner. You were always attentive.”
He cupped her cheek, loving the cool feel of her against his skin. “No. I mean like this. We never just went away. Never spent time simply being. I lost track of appreciating you.”
Her slender hand settled on his chest, and his heart thumped in return. “Win, you didn’t have to take me away to make me happy. You just had to be with me.” Her voice broke in a whisper. “And I was.”
Quite suddenly, he hurt. His heart. Everywhere. He ached with a sweet, sharp pain that made him want to groan. “Poppy…”
His hands still cupped her cheeks, and he leaned in, needing to kiss her, but on a breath, she pulled back. “Win, what do you wish for?”
Wish for? What good was wishing? Hard truth stared him in the face, and the darkness there threatened to drag him down. The words were difficult to form. “I wish to be the father I never had.” I want my child to be born. The lump in his throat grew until he could hardly speak. “I wish to see you safe.”
Her nose wrinkled. “I’ll never be safe. Not with the life I lead.” She didn’t flinch from it, but faced him head on when she spoke. Challenging him.
His fingers twined in the silken strands of her hair. She wanted the truth? “And when you are also a mother?” She tried to edge away. He held her fast. “What of danger then?”
Her brows took on an aggressive slant. “It isn’t—”
“Fair?”
“Yes, damn it!” Her cheeks flushed, and she took a deep breath.
His thumb stroked over the red wash of her guilt. “Little in life