Page 42 of Twelve Nights In The Prince's Bed

Actually, it couldn’t be better. Suddenly, Poppy was desperate for the escape route offered by her new job.

‘But long distance? It’s not so far away. He can come and see you—’

‘Adrastos has his hands full here. Besides—’ Poppy worked hard to keep her voice light ‘—you know what your brother’s like. I’m sure he’ll replace me quickly enough.’

Eleanor’s eyes narrowed. ‘And that’s okay with you?’

Poppy squeezed her own eyes shut. ‘What do you think?’ She sighed. ‘I’m trying not to think about that.’ More honesty! ‘I’m just living in the moment, enjoying it while it lasts. Your brother is very special. I care about him, Eleanor. But this doesn’t have a future. I wish no one had ever found out about us.’ Speaking so frankly and openly was a balm Poppy badly needed. She was trying to simply enjoy things with Adrastos without getting ahead of herself. She was living in the moment. And she cared about him, a great deal. If only their one night together had remained their secret!

But what then?

It would have been the end of it. Adrastos certainly hadn’t been going to chase Poppy up and ask for a repeat performance. If those photos hadn’t been printed, they’d have been awkward acquaintances, instead of...instead of what?

She turned away from Eleanor, staring out of the window at the city as it passed them by, a blur of ancient grey buildings, falling white snow and the most beautiful Christmas lights still strung from one side of the street to the other.

Christmas was over, and now Poppy had to focus on the new year, and on the new version of herself. Once she left Stomland, she had to put Adrastos behind her, and never think of him again.

It was the only way she could move on with her life, as he surely would, the second he was at liberty to do so.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

ITHADN’TBEENeasy to analyse his mood that day. The remnants of irritation remained—had tortured him most of the night, and had lingered in the afternoon. And then he’d seen her stepping out of the limousine in the rather grand private turning circle.

From his vantage point on the second floor, where he’d been staring out of the window almost without seeing, all his energy became focussed on Poppy as she stood with innate elegance from the back seat the moment the door was opened, her slim body looking so vulnerable. He couldn’t see her face, but a moment later, Eleanor came around to Poppy’s side, putting her hands on Poppy’s shoulders, squeezing, then pressing her forehead to Poppy’s and smiling. Eleanor was...crying? And so was Poppy. Something in his chest split. A moment later, Eleanor wrapped Poppy into a huge hug and held her tight.

It was a hug Poppy needed. He could tell by the way her body sagged into it, from the way she rested her cheek on Eleanor’s shoulder and closed her eyes, and suddenly, the thought of Poppy needing a hug and him not being there to offer it seemed all kinds of wrong.

He paced out of the office quickly, took the wide marble staircase, then turned into the tiled hallway just as Poppy and Eleanor entered.

He stopped walking. Stared at Poppy as she stared back, and Eleanor looked from one to the other—but he didn’t even notice his sister. Every fibre of his being was focussed on Poppy and her tear-streaked face.

‘What’s happened?’ he demanded, pushing his body, lengthening his stride to reach her more quickly.

‘Nothing,’ she demurred, dashing at her cheeks and offering a weak smile.

‘Don’t say that. What is it?’ Exasperation made his voice louder than he’d intended and out of nowhere, he remembered last night. The way he’d lost his temper with her. But it hadn’t been Poppy he was annoyed with, not at all. He’d felt threatened, he realised now, by her questions and how honest he’d wanted to be with her. He turned to his sister. ‘Eleanor, would you excuse us?’

Eleanor looked at Poppy then nodded, reaching out and touching Poppy’s cheek. ‘I love you.’

A moment later Eleanor was gone and all Adrastos wanted was to scoop Poppy up into that hug he knew she needed. But standing right in front of her, it wasn’t so easy.

‘I—’ she started.

‘You’re upset,’ he said at the same time.

‘Yes.’

‘Because of last night?’

Her eyes shuttered, her glance falling to a huge vase across the corridor, stuffed full of festive flowers. ‘Partly.’

He nodded slowly. At least she wasn’t denying it. ‘Will you come with me, so we can speak more privately?’

Some of the women he’d dated might have demurred, in the hope he’d beg, but Poppy was not like other women. She simply nodded. ‘I think that’s a good idea.’

He was relieved but also, suddenly, inexplicably nervous. He wracked his brain for where they could go—not his room, where the bed would distract them both, and memories of last night would be fresh in their minds. And not away from the palace, where photographers would be hungry for images of them.

Then, inspiration struck. ‘Give me five minutes,’ he said. ‘Don’t—Just don’t go anywhere.’

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