Absently she nodded, and her scowl broke into something dark, more like despair. “I’ve wanted this child. So badly. Only now that it is real…” She bit her bottom lip.
“You want the SOS more.” He tried not to feel the heavy weight of disappointment. She only wanted what most men he knew wanted as well. He couldn’t fault her for not being like other women. He’d known that much about her when he met her. He’d loved her uniqueness then, so he’d have to accept it now. Only it was clear that she wanted the SOS more than she’d wanted anything. Including him.
Poppy, however, glared up at him as if he’d slapped her. “That isn’t what I—”
“Is it the responsibility you fear losing or the danger?” He knew he was being a bastard, but he found himself unable to stop. Nor could he quell the tight ball of jealousy within him.
High color flagged her cheeks. “You are oversimplifying.”
“Because it is simple. We all place a measure of importance on things in our life. I’m merely asking the order of yours.”
“And what of you? As a homicide inspector, you risk your life every day. Would it be easy to walk away, then?”
“That choice has been made for me. I am no longer an inspector.” And didn’t it slash his soul to say it? It was akin to saying, “I am a failure.”
Poppy blanched before her chin thrust up. “Bollocks. That is merely a title. But here,” she slapped a hand upon his chest, “in your heart, you are a man who needs to fight for what is right.”
“Yes,” he said, despite himself.
Eyes the color of polished oak held him in place. “You sold your soul for it.”
“And for you.” For her most of all.
“And now?” Her voice shook with emotion as she gazed into his eyes. “Had you the chance to do it over again? What would you ask for? Knowing that I was a liar and a spy.”
“You!” He grasped her slim arms as if he could keep her there, in this garden, forever. What was waiting for him at the end of this long journey weighed like an anvil upon his heart. “I choose my wife and my child.”
The light in her eyes died, as swiftly as a candle being blown out. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand why. Poppy was gentle as she removed herself from his grip. He tried to move, grab her back, tried to speak, to shout that he wanted her, needed her, but his body froze. Was his choice so very distasteful to her?
Poppy’s voice was small and sad when she spoke again. “Only you did not choose me until you knew I was with child.”
“No.” No, no, no. She could not think…
Poppy shook her head. “When you look at me now, do you see only me? Or the child as well?”
How the hell could he answer that? To deny that Poppy and the child were the most important things in his life was illogical. His silence lasted too long. Poppy stepped back, straightening her spine as she did. “This talk gets us nowhere. Let us simply focus on the task at hand.” She walked backward, fading into the shadows beneath the trellis. Leaving him. “I shall see you at dinner.”
Chapter Nineteen
Paris, 1869—A Bargain
Winston sat in the crowded Parisian cafe and felt no pain. The little green fairy was taking care of that grandly. He slumped back in his seat, heedless of those around him, and simply stared. Faces swirled about him like a kaleidoscope gone mad. Eyes grew larger, rows of gleaming teeth flashing behind stretched lips. Too much laughter here. He needed to find another cafe. One where the somber chaps congregated as they drank their way toward death.
Death. He did not fear it. Why should he? He was already dead inside. No dreams left, no hope, no Poppy.
Ah, there it was, the pain. Like a marriage-minded mama with daughter in tow, pain pushed with insistent hands through the layers of alcohol-induced numbness and put itself front and center, demanding attention. He rubbed his tender chest. She’d ripped his heart out. And had been messy about it. Gaping wounds remained. He took another deep drink, and as the viscous anise flavor slid down his throat, he grimaced and looked down at himself, wondering how it was that there wasn’t a bloody hole in him. No. Simply a slightly soiled waistcoat and rumpled evening kit.