To spend the rest of his day in her delightful company.
Upon reaching the sanctuary of the pavilion, Francis mindlessly picked up a coil of rope. He then proceeded to make a thorough study of it. Anything to avoid Poppy’s gaze. He could feel it burning into the back of his head.
When the click of a door being closed finally reached him, Francis dropped the rope with a tired sigh. He glanced over toward warehouse number fourteen and let out a breath of relief. Poppy was gone.
For a moment, he stood slowly shaking his head. Last night he had been more than ready to do battle with the occupant of the warehouse next door. Now, he had no idea what to do about her.
In the bright morning sunshine, Poppy’s warm smile, and easygoing nature had battered his steel-encased heart. A heart which Francis had been resolute in his determination to keep under lock and key.
He had made a pact with himself. Sworn a solemn oath to keep it. Before he would even entertain the notion of looking for a wife, he had to have become an acknowledged success in the shipping business. The jewels and fine clothes he intended to give to the woman he eventually married had to come from the money which he had earned.
On the day of his wedding, he wanted his male relatives to be standing in awe of him. Of what he had achieved. And if they were a little envious, it would only serve to make the champagne which they toasted Francis and his new bride with, taste all that much sweeter.
His grand plans had not figured on him meeting Poppy Basden. Nor on his mind tempting him with a different stream of thoughts. Delicious, enticing thoughts.
A bath.
A naked Poppy.
And him.
All he could think of was Poppy’s lush breasts, of how wonderful they would look as the soapy suds slid over them.
What color would those peaked pebbles be? A dusky rose. Or perhaps a light caramel brown. She was fair in her complexion.
“A delicate blush,” he whispered.
His body hardened as lust crept through his veins. By the time Francis had finally got himself back under control, he had licked his lips raw.
He stared at rope which lay at his feet. He could do battle over barrels and ropes, but when it came to sunny-natured Poppy Basden, he hadn’t a clue.
What the devil was he going to do about the temptress who had moved in next door?
Chapter Twenty-Three
Francis had made a rather hasty departure, but Poppy didn’t have all day to sit and ponder as to the reasons why. She had barely got back inside the warehouse and set the bucket and baking tray on the table when there was a knock at the door.
“Oh, good. He has come back,” she muttered.
She hurried to the door, but instead of finding the tall figure of Francis Saunders standing on her threshold, she was greeted with the sight of a large, round-bellied man who promptly announced, “I have a delivery for a P. Basden.”
Poppy glanced past him to the wooden cart which was pulled up outside. All thoughts of Francis disappeared in a flash as her gaze settled on the large copper tub which was being lifted down from the cart. She clapped her hands together with unrestrained delight as it touched the ground. “My bath! Oh, how wonderful.”
The delivery man raised an eyebrow and Poppy laughed. It was likely he didn’t get that sort of response when he usually made his rounds. Her previous visits to London, had taught her that bathing wasn’t as popular in England as it was in other parts of the world. The knowledge that the water from the nearby pump was clean and fit for her to bathe in had her giddy with glee.
Poppy promptly signed for the tub, then stepped out of the way as two burly men carried it inside.
“Where do want us to put the tub, miss?”
Darting over to the fireplace, she quickly moved a chair and some odds and ends out of the way.
“Right here if you would be so kind. Thank you.”
She had chosen a spot to the left of the fireplace. Close enough that she would be warm while she bathed, but still far enough out of the way for her to be able to use the hearth to cook meals.
The tub was set gently on the stone floor, and Poppy checked its position. She nodded; it was exactly where it should be.
“Perfect. Thank you so much. I know it is only a bath, but you have delivered to me the promise of much joy.” She pressed a coin into the hand of each of the bemused delivery men, then politely showed them out. As soon as she closed the door, Poppy raced back to the fireplace and her beloved copper tub.
