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money
on his side. Time would have to take care of the rest.
The formal dinner was a great success. Every time Harry glanced at the other end of the long
table,
he saw that Poppy was acquitting herself splendidly. She was relaxed and smiling, taking part in
conversation, appearing to charm her companions. It was exactly as Harry had expected: the
same
qualities that were considered faults in an unmarried girl were admired in a married woman.
Poppy s acute observations and her enjoyment of lively debate made her far more interesting
than a
demure society miss with a modest downcast gaze.
She was breathtaking in the violet gown, her slender neck encircled with diamonds, her hair rich
with dark fire. Nature had blessed her with abundant beauty. But it was her smile that made her
irresistible, a smile so sweet and brilliant that it warmed him from the inside out.
Harry wished she would smile at him like that. She had, in the beginning. There had to be
something that would induce her to warm to him, to like him again. Everyone had a weakness.
In the meantime, Harry stole glances of her whenever he could, his lovely and distant wife... and
he
drank in the smiles she gave to other people.
The next morning Harry awoke at his usual hour. He washed and dressed, sat at the breakfast
table
with a newspaper, and glanced at Poppy s door. There was no sign of her. He assumed she would
sleep late, since they had retired long after midnight.
 Don t wake Mrs. Rutledge, he told the maid.  She needs to rest this morning.
 Yes, sir.
Harry ate his breakfast alone, trying to focus on the newspaper, but his gaze kept dragging to
Poppy s closed door.
He had gotten used to seeing her every morning. He liked to start his day with her. But Harry
was
aware that he had been nothing less than boorish the previous night, giving her jewelry and
demanding a demonstration of gratitude. He should have known better.
It was just that he wanted her so damned badly. And he had become accustomed to having his
way,
especially where women were concerned. He reflected that it probably wouldn t hurt him to learn
to
consider someone else s feelings.
Especially if that would hasten the process of getting what he wanted.
After receiving the morning managers reports from Jake Valentine, Harry went with him to the
basement of the hotel to assess the damage from some minor flooding due to faulty drainage.
 We ll
need an engineering assessment, Harry said,  And I want an inventory of the damaged storage
items.
 Yes, sir, Valentine replied.  Unfortunately there were some rolled-up Turkish carpets in the
flooded area, but I don t know if the staining 
 Mr. Rutledge! An agitated housemaid descended to the bottom of the stairs and rushed over to
them. She could barely speak between labored breaths.  Mrs. Pennywhistle said... to come fetch
you
because... Mrs. Rutledge...
Harry looked at the housemaid sharply.  What is it?
 She s injured, sir... took a fall...
Alarm shot through him.  Where is she?
 Your apartments, sir.
 Send for a doctor, Harry told Valentine, and he ran for the stairs, taking them two and three at a
time. By the time he reached his apartments, full-scale panic roared through him. He tried to
push it
back enough to think clearly. There was a congregation of maids around the door, and he
shouldered
his way through them into the main room.  Poppy?
Mrs. Pennywhistle s voice echoed from the tiled bathing room.  We re in here, Mr. Rutledge.
Harry reached the bathing room in three strides, his stomach lurching in fear as he saw Poppy on
the
floor, reclining against the housekeeper s supportive arms. Toweling had been draped over her
for
modesty s sake, but her limbs were naked and vulnerable looking in contrast to the hard gray
tiling.
Harry dropped to his haunches beside her.  What happened, Poppy?
 I m sorry. She looked pained and mortified and apologetic.  It was so silly. I stepped out of the
bath and slipped on the tiles, and my leg went out from beneath me.
 Thank heavens one of the maids had come to clear the breakfast dishes, Mrs. Pennywhistle
told
him,  and she heard Mrs. Rutledge cry out.
 I m all right, Poppy said.  I just twisted my ankle a bit. She gave the housekeeper a gently
chiding glance.  I m perfectly capable of getting up, but Mrs. Pennywhistle won t let me.
 I was afraid to move her, the housekeeper told Harry.
 You were right to keep her still, Harry replied, examining Poppy s leg. The ankle was
discolored
and already beginning to swell. Even the light brush of his fingers was enough to make her flinch
and inhale quickly.
 I don t think I ll need a doctor, Poppy said.  If you could just wrap it with a light binding, and
perhaps I could have some willow bark tea 
 Oh, you re seeing a doctor, Harry said, suffused with grim concern. Glancing at Poppy s face,
he
saw the residue of tears, and he reached out to her with extreme gentleness, his fingers caressing
the
side of her face. Her skin was as smooth as fine-milled soap. There was a red mark in the center
of
her lower lip, where she must have bitten it.
Whatever she saw in his expression caused her eyes to widen and her cheeks to flush.
Mrs. Pennywhistle eased up from the floor.  Well, she said briskly,  Now that she s in your
care,
Mr. Rutledge, shall I fetch some bandages and salve? We may as well treat the ankle until the
doctor arrives.
 Yes, Harry said curtly.  And send for another doctor I want a second opinion.
 Yes, sir. The housekeeper fled.
 We haven t even gotten a first opinion yet, Poppy protested.  And you re making far too much
of
this. It s just a minor sprain, and... what are you doing?
Harry had laid two fingers on the top of her foot, two inches below the ankle, feeling for her
pulse.
 Making certain your circulation hasn t been compromised.
Poppy rolled her eyes.  My goodness. All I need is to sit somewhere with my foot up.
 I m going to carry you to bed, he said, sliding one arm behind her back, the other beneath her
knees.  Can you put your arms around my neck?
She blushed from head to toe, and complied with an inarticulate murmur. He lifted her in a slow,
easy movement. Poppy fumbled a little as the toweling began to slip from her body, and she
gasped
in pain.
 Did I jostle your leg? Harry asked in concern.
 No. I think... She sounded sheepish.  I think I may have hurt my back a little as well.
Harry let out a few quiet curses that caused her brows to raise, and he carried her into the
bedroom.
 From now on, he told her sternly,  you re not to step out of the bathing tub unless there s
someone to help you.
 I can t do that, she protested.
 Why not?
 I don t need help with my bath every night. I m not a child!
 Believe me, Harry said,  I m aware of that. He set her down gently and arranged the covers
over
her. After easing the damp towel away from her, he adjusted her pillows.  Where are your
nightgowns?
 The bottom dresser drawer.
Harry went to the dresser, jerked the drawer open, and pulled out a white gown. Returning to the
bed, he helped Poppy into the nightgown, his face tautening with concern as she winced with
every
movement. She needed something for the pain. She needed a doctor.
Why the hell was it so quiet in the apartment? He wanted people running, fetching things. He [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]