Keane cupped Poppy’s cheeks in his palms and smoothed his thumbs over her freckles, worshipping each and every one. The long, loose waves of her hair tumbled around her bare shoulders. Her bright eyes glowed in the moonlight. The brief, tantalizing taste of her lips left him wanting more.
But he always wanted more when he was with Poppy.
She’d seemed on guard at first, but when he leaned in again and covered her mouth with his, she softened. The tension that was usually bottled inside her drained away, and she melted into him, pressing her lush curves against his body.
He traced the seam of her lips with his tongue, and she opened to him. The kiss deepened, his blood caught fire, and desire swept his legs out from underneath him. She seemed caught up by it, too, splaying her fingers through the hair at his nape and sighing into his mouth.
Holding her felt like his first thrilling horse ride, his first daring plunge into the river, and first forbidden sip of brandy all rolled into one. His head spun and his heart pounded, as if his own body had difficulty believing she was letting him in. To her thoughts. Her life. Maybe even her heart.
As the carriage rolled along, he trailed kisses down the column of her neck and found a sensitive spot behind her ear. Surely, she had other such places, and he vowed, one day, to discover them all. But she seemed intent on exploring him, too. She pressed her lithe leg against his thigh and boldly skimmed a hand across his chest, filling his head with a dozen wicked ideas.
He knew exactly what he wanted to happen next. He’d strip off both their togas. Haul her onto his lap. Kiss every inch of her until she cried out in pleasure. He could see it in his mind’s eye, and her sensuous sighs suggested that she wanted more as well.
But he was determined to earn her trust, and that meant going slowly. He wanted her to believe in him, to see that he was more than a rake concerned with slaking his own lust. Maybe he needed to prove it to himself, too.
He lowered the temperature of the kiss, pulled back slightly, and looked into her eyes. “That was, without a doubt, the best ending to the best night.”
She blinked at him, dazed, and touched a finger to her swollen lips. “What you said before, about the kiss complicating things. It was true.”
“I’d like to propose that we save that conversation for tomorrow when my head is less muddled.”
Her gaze flicked to the cut above his eye, and her brow creased with concern. “Is your wound bothering you?”
“Not at all.” But he was far too aroused to think clearly. The sight of her sitting beside him with her hair down and wearing nothing but a sheet was damned distracting. “It’s just that we only have a few hours before dawn, and I figured we both could use some rest.”
“You’ve been awake longer than I have. Why don’t you take a turn sleeping? You can put your head on my lap.”
He hazarded a glance at her thighs, and the hem of her toga skimming her knees.
And he could only conclude that Satan was toying with him. Taunting him. Testing the very limits of his self-control.
Keane scrubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t think I should rest on your lap.”
“Why not?”
Why, indeed? “For one thing, I have a very heavy head.”
“I feel certain I can handle it.”
“If anyone should lie down, it’s you. You’ll have to work and take care of your father tomorrow.”
“Why are you being so stubborn?” She slid to one end of the bench, shot him a saucy smile, and patted her leg.
God help him, he caved. “Very well. But only if you’ll let me help you fish tomorrow.”
She hesitated, then said, “I suppose I can find something for you to do close to the beach.”
“Good.” He knew how protective she was of her family and her business. Her willingness to let him in—even a little bit—felt like victory.
He exhaled and prepared himself for the next bit. The trick was to imagine he was simply lying on a pillow. Slowly, warily, he lowered his head, facing away from her body and as close to her knees as possible.
“You can rest easy, Keane. This is my lap, not a guillotine.”
“Either way, I’m at great risk of losing my head,” he mumbled.
“Hmm?” She gently swept his hair back from his brow, and her touch was a balm to his soul. He relaxed and nestled his cheek against her supple thigh.
“Nothing,” he said. “Are you certain I’m not crushing you?”
“I’m certain.” Her fingers swirled in his hair, making his scalp tingle and his eyelids heavy. “Good night, Keane.”
Poppy had been kissed before. But Keane’s kiss was entirely different from anything she’d experienced—and not simply because they were in a carriage and wearing togas.
He made her feel things. Not only in the places where they touched, but all over.
He’d slanted his mouth across hers, and her toes curled in pleasure. He’d speared his fingers through her loose hair, and her nipples turned to hard buds. He’d whispered in her ear, and her core pulsed with desire.
She’d read about passion and seen it illustrated on the pages of a book. But until that night, she’d never truly felt it. Never understood why perfectly intelligent women risked their reputations for an illicit kiss—or more.
Poppy knew she had to proceed with caution. She would not make the mistake of confusing physical attraction for an emotional connection. On the contrary, she would guard her heart as fiercely as the Crown Jewels.
But she wasn’t going to pass up this opportunity to know pleasure. This summer with Keane could well be her only chance to live the life she’d dreamed of, venturing outside the town limits of Bellehaven—and outside the bounds of proper behavior.
As their carriage rumbled over the country roads, his head rocked on her lap. One of his hands clasped her leg above the knee, and every so often he caressed her in his sleep, sending delicious shivers across her skin.
She stayed awake throughout the drive, partly because she needed the time to think, and partly because this was a golden opportunity to study him freely. His toga gave her an excellent view of the muscles in his shoulder and arm. The seat was only long enough to hold his torso, so his long legs spilled onto the floor.
Best of all, his chiseled face looked softer in sleep. More vulnerable. And the sensuous smile that played about his lips made her quite certain that his dreams were far from innocent.
The drive passed quickly, and before she knew it, the carriage was rolling into Bellehaven, the eastern sky already beginning to glow pink.
But she didn’t feel sad as she woke him, disembarked, and walked back to the cottage on stiff legs. Their first adventure may have ended, but another was just beginning, and it could prove far more perilous than the first.
The next chapter might not involve irate dockhands, drawn knives, or hidden identities, but there was plenty at stake. Namely, her heart.
“Thank you for checking on my father yesterday,” Poppy said to Kitty. She’d taken the cart to town in order to purchase some supplies and intercepted Kitty as she left the office where she worked as an architect’s apprentice. “Papa said that you read a few chapters of his book to him. That was very sweet of you.”
“It was my pleasure. I’m happy to visit with him any time.” Kitty held her sketchbook to her chest and narrowed her shrewd blue eyes. “Where did you say you were yesterday?”
Poppy grinned. “I did not. I made a quick trip to London in order to look for my brother.”
“London?” Kitty sighed. “I wish I could have gone with you. Did you find Dane?”
“Not exactly. But I spoke to a barkeep who saw him recently. He said that Dane bought a round for the pub, so I’m guessing he’s been able to find work.”
“That’s good.” Kitty’s golden hair gleamed in the afternoon sun, and she caught the attention of more than a few gentlemen who passed by. As usual, she seemed oblivious to their admiring glances. “At least you know he’s staying out of trouble.”
“I hope so.” Poppy reached into her bag and pulled out a package. “For you. A small token of my thanks.”
“You didn’t need to do that,” Kitty protested, but her face lit up with delight as she unwrapped a long thin box that Poppy had decorated with shells. “Oh, I adore it,” she said breathlessly.
“I thought you could use it for your pencils.”
“It’s perfect. But I hope you know that friends don’t expect gifts in return for simple favors.”
“That is true, but your ‘simple favor’ meant a great deal to me.” Poppy winked at her. “Besides, I’m a little too proud for my own good.”
“Fair enough,” Kitty conceded. “As it turns out, I’m shameless enough to accept your lovely gift.”
Poppy grinned at her friend. “Are you headed home? Calypso and I can give you a ride if you’d like.”
“Actually, I’m going back to the school. I promised one of the younger girls I’d give her drawing lessons. But I’d love a ride.”
They climbed onto the wooden bench of the cart and headed east on Main Street toward Bellehaven Academy. As they passed the Bluffs’ Brew Inn, Kitty subtly elbowed Poppy in the ribs. “Do you see that gentleman outside the inn?”
Poppy glanced at the impeccably dressed, broad-chested man with the familiar black and gray head of hair. Diggs. “Do you know him?” she asked.
“He’s the Duke of Hawking’s valet,” Kitty whispered. “And apparently he’s been staying in Bellehaven for several days now.”
“You don’t say,” Poppy said, striving for a breezy tone despite the fact that her heart was pounding. If townspeople were talking about Diggs, it was only a matter of time before someone asked the obvious question. Namely, where was the duke?
“Oddly enough, the duke—who’s rumored to be sinfully handsome—hasn’t been seen since the day they first arrived,” Kitty continued with obvious relish. “And there’s delicious speculation as to why.”
Poppy steered the mule around the corner and hoped her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. “What are people saying?”
“One theory is that he took ill and has been staying at the inn while he recovers. But Dr. Gladwell hasn’t been seen there, so it’s difficult to know. Perhaps the duke is a rather private person,” Kitty mused. “His valet is certainly tight-lipped.”
“An illness could explain why the duke hasn’t been seen,” Poppy said.
“There is another theory,” Kitty said, glancing around them. “That the duke was the victim of foul play.”
“What sort of foul play?”
Kitty shrugged. “He was last seen playing cards at the Salty Mermaid—and apparently, he had a terrible losing streak. Maybe he owed someone money.”
Poppy pulled on the reins and brought the cart to a stop in front of the school. “You can’t believe everything you hear,” she said to Kitty.
“I know,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “But there’s usually at least a kernel of truth to gossip, and I, for one, intend to be on the lookout for a dashing duke—just in case.” She shot Poppy a saucy smirk, hopped down from the cart, and waved goodbye as she strode toward the front door of the school.
During the drive home, Poppy contemplated her next steps. With each day that passed, the speculation as to Keane’s whereabouts was bound to increase. More and more people were going to be looking for the missing duke. And, from what Kitty had shared, the rumors weren’t far off the mark.
Poppy needed to talk to him about speeding up the investigation. They’d ruled out one of the three suspects, and it was time to take a look at the next one. As soon as she unloaded her cart, she was going to find Keane on the beach. And not simply because they needed to plan their next course of action.
They also needed to talk about their kiss. Even now, her lips tingled at the memory.
It had been one of the most ill-advised, foolhardy, and reckless things she’d ever done.
And yet, she was seriously contemplating doing it again.
After finishing up her chores and chatting with Papa, Poppy filled a pail with some leftover shepherd’s pie, fruit, cheese, and nuts and headed to the hideaway.
Since Keane had insisted that she give him something to do, she’d left an old fishing net outside the shelter with instructions to untangle it. But since she’d tried herself on several occasions and given up each time, she didn’t expect him to fare any better.
“I came as soon as I could,” she called out as she approached the clearing. “I hope you’re not too famish—” She drew up short and blinked at the scene before her.
Keane caught her eye first, for myriad reasons, not the least of which was that his thin lawn shirt was barely clinging to his broad shoulders. It gaped open at the front and revealed a wide swath of tanned skin, from his collarbone all the way to his waistband. In a half-hearted attempt to make himself presentable he hastily tugged at the collar and shoved his shirttail into his buckskin trousers. But it was too late. The knee-melting image was already burned into her mind.
When she finally managed to drag her eyes away from Keane, however, she noticed something else rather amazing: the old net she’d left for him. It hung neatly between two trees that were about ten yards apart, and there wasn’t a single knot to be found.
“I wasn’t sure I could salvage it,” Keane said with a boyish grin. “I don’t mind telling you that I was this close”—he held up a thumb and forefinger like a crab pincer—“to cutting it up to make a hammock.”
“I wouldn’t have blamed you if you did.” She stepped closer to take a look at the holes he’d obviously repaired. “I’m impressed.”
“I had to take a piece off one end and use the extra string to tie up the bigger gaps. It’s not perfect,” he admitted, “but it might last you another season.”
She smiled and handed the pail to him. “You’ve earned your luncheon today.”
“Thank you.” He gestured toward the quilt spread on the grass. “Will you join me?”
“I ate earlier with Papa. But I do think we should talk,” she added pointedly.
“Is this about my snoring last night?” he quipped. “I promise it’s not nearly as bad when I have a proper pillow.”
She arched a brow. “It almost sounded as though you were complaining about the sleeping arrangements just then.”
The corner of his mouth lifted in wicked amusement. “Never.”
“Good. Because one of us slept a great deal more than the other last night—and it wasn’t me.” She dragged the quilt into the shade of a tree and sank onto the soft patchwork. “We need to talk about what comes next.”
“Next?” he repeated, stretching out beside her on the quilt and propping himself on an elbow. “More chores? All you must do is tell me. Make a list if you wish. I am yours to command, Poppy Summers.”
His lazy smile and heavy-lidded gaze suggested he was offering more than just menial labor. She swallowed and resisted the urge to fan herself. “I appreciate your willingness to help, but that should not be your focus. We need to figure out who hurt you so you can return to London … and resume your real life.”
A frown flicked across his face. “Are you so eager to be rid of me?”
“Not exactly. But I do worry that you’ll be discovered here. I was in town earlier today, and there’s already a great deal of speculation as to where you are. If you don’t make a public appearance soon, word of your absence will spread to London. Perhaps it already has.”
“I’m not ready to resume my real life,” he said, his expression so earnest that it nearly broke her heart. “I do need to find out who tried to drown me and why. That’s the reason I asked you to let me stay here. But I don’t think I realized till today that there’s another reason.”
“What’s that?”
“I need to be more than a duke—a man who sits behind a desk or relaxes at his club while his steward, solicitor, and staff do all the work. I want to roll up my sleeves and sweat, feel the earth between my fingers.” He looked at the puffy white clouds as though he might find the words he searched for hidden among them. “I like it here, where I am not defined by my title.”
She flicked her gaze toward the sea. The truth was that he couldn’t run from his title, and neither could she. It mattered every bit as much there, overlooking the beach, as it mattered in London. His dukedom was the precise reason she—a poor fisherman’s daughter—couldn’t seriously consider a future with him. Moreover, it was the reason she could never, ever love him.
“It is a part of you that you can’t deny,” she said softly. “But it’s not the whole.”
“If my father had had his druthers, it would have been the whole of me.” He kicked a pebble with the toe of his boot and smirked. “I was a grave disappointment, to say the least.”
“How so?”
“I won’t bore you with the particulars, but I failed to measure up to my father’s expectations. My intellect, ambition, and decorum … All, apparently, are sorely lacking.”
“That is not true,” she said sincerely. “Perhaps your father saw great potential in you and merely wished to spur you on.”
Keane scoffed. “He saw nothing of value in me. You can take me at my word on that.”
She reached for his hand on the quilt between them. “I’m sorry.” Her little family was imperfect, but it had always been loving and supportive. She sometimes forgot that not all families were like hers.
“My father had his reasons for resenting me, and I had mine for resenting him,” he said with a shrug. “That was simply the way of it.”
“Forgive me for speaking plainly, but that should not be the way of it. A boy needs his father.”
“You might think me a monster for saying so, but I’m better off without mine.”
“You’re not a monster. You’re wounded.”
He shook his head as if she were mad. “I made my peace with it long ago. We shouldn’t waste our breath talking about him.”
Poppy had never seen this side of Keane. Though he appeared calm, she suspected he was hanging onto his composure by the thinnest of threads. “If you decide you do want to talk about your father, I am a good listener.”
“You are good at many things.” He shot her a rakish grin, effectively signaling a change in subject and making her belly flutter at the same time.
She leaned back on her palms. “I understand wanting a holiday from your responsibilities. I sometimes wish for a break from mine. Nevertheless, your time on this beach is limited, and you still have two more suspects to investigate. What do you intend to do next?”
He lifted her hand, turned it over, and pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist. “Convince you to go on another excursion with me.”
Her heart leapt and plummeted in the space of two breaths. “I wish I could. But I shouldn’t leave my father again so soon.”
His eyes clouded with disappointment. “I understand. It was probably selfish for me to ask, but I couldn’t help myself.” His lips skimmed across her forearm, making it rather difficult to think clearly.
“I’m glad you asked,” she said sincerely. “And I would go if I could.”
“It won’t be nearly as much fun without you, but you can help me plan if you’d like.”
“I would like that,” she said eagerly. At least she could be involved in some way. “Are you going back to London?”
“Not quite.” His breath blew softly on her sensitive skin. “When you come back tonight, I’ll tell you more.”