Page 61

CHAPTER THREE

The dawning of the next day brought unexpected steady rain and Poppy send yet another prayer up that she was spared the ill-fated equine adventure. Clover pouted through breakfast until Mr. Billing offered to join her and another couple in the parlor for games.

Poppy begged off and went in search of the library. A morning spent curled up on a settee reading sounded perfect. If she were lucky, she would be undisturbed until tea.

She was relieved to find the room empty and walked the perimeter, fingers trailing over the thick leather volumes. She selected a collection of poetry she’d not yet read and found the chair near the window the perfect location for listening to the rain.

Her feet tucked under her, deep in a poem about undying love, a sound in the doorway startled her from her musings. She glanced up expecting to find another of their party but the tall figure of Mr. Alexander Ambrose lurked half in and half out of the door, as if he couldn’t make up his mind.

“You startled me.” Poppy chastised herself for stating the obvious and also for letting down her guard in an unfamiliar home. She’d taken off her shoes to curl up in the chair and her habit of running her fingers through her curls when concentrating meant she knew that tendrils were escaping.

She righted her posture and rushed to smooth her hair. Mr. Ambrose held up a hand to stay her efforts. “Please don’t fret on my account. I was just looking for a brief respite then I shall let you carry on?—“

His sentence was interrupted by a shrill voice. “Mr. Ambrose, where have you gone to? I was hoping to talk with you about my daughter.”

Alexander cringed and moved deeper into the room, pulling the door closed behind him and latching it which effectively locked them in together. Poppy stood in alarm, forgetting her shoes and messy hair to cross the room and reach for the latch.

“Mr. Ambrose, I must insist the door remain open. It isn’t proper?—“

A large hand gently cupped her mouth and a strong arm reached across her stomach and tugged her back into the corner away from the door.

Poppy had never had anyone take such liberties with her and she was equal parts shocked and intrigued by the warmth and strength in Mr. Ambrose’s touch.

Her brain shouted that this was not proper and she was at risk of being compromised if discovered.

Her body unconsciously leaned backwards into the embrace.

For long moments, neither moved as they listened to footsteps cross outside the door. Once it was quiet, Mr. Ambrose released her and took a large step back.

“My apologies Miss Stanton. The situation was dire.”

Poppy arched a brow. “Dire you say? I didn’t take you for one to have flair for dramatics.”

Surprise crossed Mr. Ambrose’s expression at her bold teasing. “You have clearly never been pursued by a marriage- minded mama. It is more terrifying than crossing a bear, I do think.”

Poppy couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out.

What a ridiculous circumstance. Locked in a library with the feel of his hands still on her body.

She was supposed to be the chaperone! What would her mother say if she were to be discovered alone with the most notorious rake in all of England?

She laughed harder when she realized that her mother wouldn’t believe the gossip.

Mr. Ambrose eyed her warily. “I do not see what is amusing in this situation.”

Poppy bent over and gasped for breath. Women’s garments were certainly not designed for amusement.

“Oh everything about this is quite hysterical. Hopeless spinster is locked in with a known rake—in the library of all places.”She caught a glance at herself in the mirror above the fireplace.

“And my hair is quite a disaster which certainly raises questions over what activities have been taking place.”

Mr. Ambrose narrowed his eyes. “I thought you were not aiming for marriage? Yet you have set up the perfect ruination.”

Poppy felt a flare of anger hot in her gut. “Me? I am the innocent victim of my own ruination. I was enjoying a quiet afternoon alone when you barreled in to disturb my peace.”

She jabbed him in the chest to emphasize her point and he stepped back until he was against the wall. His dark eyes considered her and for a moment, she was afraid he might kiss her. Isn’t that what happened when handsome men stared at your mouth like it was water on a summer day?

“We need to stop talking about ruination. One is only compromised if found out.” Mr. Ambrose’s mouth was a firm line and she had the wild urge to stretch up and run her tongue along the seam until he opened to her.

She brushed at her dress in an attempt to right herself. “Well you are the expert I’m sure.” She feigned looking at the mantle clock in concern. “Am I the only ruination on your schedule today or do you need to keep another appointment?”

Mr. Ambrose’s mouth twitched in a near smile but he recovered quickly and returned to his scowl. “That is not a subject to joke about. It would be a disaster were we discovered.”

Poppy was in agreement except she didn’t like that he said it first. “A disaster? I dare say I am not sure which part of this situation I should be most offended by. The risk to my reputation or the implication that marriage to me would be disastrous?”

Mr. Ambrose sighed the deep sigh of a man well beyond his limit. “Most women do not take time to be offended but instead remove themselves from the situation.”

“Remove themselves? How convenient that would be for you. May I remind you that I was here first minding my own business when you decided to cast my virtue to chance to escape from a conversation.”

She crossed her arms across her chest which was the most unladylike posture she could assume. Rather than looking horrified as she imagined most gentlemen might, Mr. Ambrose smirked.

He leaned in much closer than was appropriate until his breath ghosted her cheek. “You are trouble, Miss Stanton,” he whispered and Poppy felt each word against her skin. “I have the self-destructive urge to kiss you.”

Do it.

“A kiss is not ruination,” she found her mouth operated without permission from her brain.

Surprise flared in his eyes and along with an emotion she’d never experienced from a man before but was hot enough to singe her.

“I’ll hold you to your word,” he whispered before his mouth descended on hers. His lips were softer than she expected and warm. The kiss was gentle and gave her time to adapt to the novel sensation.

She found her hand coming to rest on his jaw and marveled at the rough texture of his stubble. Her pulse soared and heat flashed through her body. His hand cupped her face as if to hold her in place.

His tongue licked over her lips and she shuddered, mouth instinctively opening to allow him access. When his tongue moved past her lips to dance with hers, she felt like she might explode into a thousand pieces. There was nothing in her previous experience to compare to this assault on her senses.

Poppy shifted closer to him, restless with a need she couldn’t name.

He nudged a knee between hers, breaking the kiss to curse softly at the layers of fabric between them.

Her mouth chased his and he kissed her again, this time more intensively than the last. His hands found their way into her hair, cupping the back of her head to angle her where he desired.

This was nothing like Poppy had imagined intimacy to be like. This was a magical high she never wanted to come down from. Reality crashed long before she wished, as Mr. Ambrose pulled back abruptly.

He paced in front of her, hands running through his hair. “That was not what I intended.”

His eyes met hers as if he was attempting to peer into her soul. Poppy straightened, self-conscious under the scrutiny. She smoothed her skirts and righted her hair as if she was kissed senseless every day.

“That was lovely, thank you.” Poppy inwardly cringed at her words. She sounded as if she was thanking him for an afternoon stroll around the garden, not her first kiss.

“Are you alright, Miss Stanton?”

Poppy bristled at the concern in his voice. “Quite so, Mr. Ambrose. As I said, one simple kiss is not ruination.”

Mr. Ambrose’s posture relaxed but his jaw flexed. “That was anything but simple.” He looked as if he wanted to say more but instead he crossed to the door as if running from hell itself. Without another word, he fled into the hall, leaving the library door ajar.

Poppy ran her fingers across her now puffy lips as she wondered what Mr. Ambrose meant about the kiss not being simple.

Was it not a typical kiss? Being her first, she had no frame of reference.

Was it not common then to feel like one’s person had been flung up into the air, spun around, then returned to earth an entirely different being?

Poppy wished she had someone she could ask. But sharing with anyone risked the outcome she very much desired to avoid—being trapped into marriage. Although if marriage included kisses like that, she may need to reconsider.