My One and Only Earl (Forever Yours #12) - Stacy Reid Page 0,27

she retains her modiste to make you a new wardrobe. At least five new ballgowns, day dresses, hats, laces, and all the assorted fripperies.”

Her stunned silence prompted him to say, “I also wanted to check in with you, of course. A lovely opportunity to kill two birds with the same trip.”

She arched a teasing brow, and amusement rushed through Poppy. “Perfectly logical. You needed to check up on me a day after since we last saw each other?”

He grunted a noncommittal reply.

“Is it possible Your Lordship missed me?” Poppy took a few steps closer to him. “Why, that is perfectly understandable given we did not get a chance to converse privately.”

His eyes flared then warmed with humor. “You are incorrigible.”

“And you are blushing,” she said in soft wonderment.

The fluttering in her stomach increased with such intensity Poppy pressed her hands to her waist, squeezing it in hopes to stop the disordered sensations erupting there. They were entirely too new and unexpected. Deeper than anything she had ever felt before.

James made a choking sound of indignation. “Gentlemen do not blush, and I, for one, have never blushed.”

Poppy grinned, for the tips of his ears got even redder. The earl glared at her before his expression smoothed into careful indifference.

“I must complete some work in my office. I look forward to seeing you at dinner this evening.” There was a slight hesitation, then he said, “I am returning to Town tomorrow morning.”

A secret thrill went through Poppy’s heart, and she silently said, it has only been a day, but I missed your company as well.

The intensity of his gaze sharpened, and it was her turn to blush, for Poppy feared he had seen what she felt in her stare. She dipped into a polite curtsy and hurried past him, making her way up the winding staircase to her chamber. Once inside, she leaned against the door.

“I simply have to accept that whenever I see James, my heart will act in a most unruly manner,” she muttered to the empty room. And hunger opens throughout my entire body. A hunger I barely understand but so desperately want to explore.

James Delaney was so far above her that he might as well be a star in the bespeckled night sky. Do not dream or hope foolishly, Poppy reminded herself. Still, there was a smile on her mouth and a hitch in her heart as she went over to the armoire to select a comfortable day dress for a walk in the woods.

Chapter 8

Is it possible Your Lordship missed me?

James rolled over in his sleep with an irritated grunt, formed a fist, and slammed it into the pillow. This was perhaps the tenth time he was thumping out his frustration on his bedsheet, cushions, and coverlets. Why in God’s name was he so taken with Miss Poppy Ashford that he would lose sleep, that she would appear in his dreams, that he would continually wonder what he could do to surprise her. Just to see that smile bloom on her lips and the joy flash in her eyes.

“Damn stupid,” he growled in the well-padded and scented pillows.

Is it possible Your Lordship missed me?

Hearing that softly amused and astonished question for the eleventh time had him rolling over, casually placing his forearm against his forehead. She was right. He had felt some sort of baffling sensation of missing her. Surely only because he felt as if they had much more to discuss. After leaving Lady Hayes’s home on upper Wimpole street, he had felt the keenest regret that he had not spoken with Poppy. It had taken the strictest of willpower to have kept going without asking for a private audience. That would have probably created more tension with her family. It was evident to James that Mrs. Ashford did not treat Poppy with the same love and kind considerations as her daughters. Observing the tension between them and the ways they had all glared at Poppy had doubled James’s determination to see her settled and contented with her lot.

But that should have nothing to do with the cravings which had erupted through his body that night. Those same cravings torment him even now.

“It was the damn kiss,” he muttered, pushing up, and swinging his feet over the bed. “I should never have kissed her, and there will be no bloody lessons in flirtations or seduction.”

Sleep would once again elude him. This had been the same damn disease that had troubled him after the first time he