He thought of Poppy waking and those green eyes seeing into his soul where this volatile mix was barely under control.
He scooped her up into his arms and she made a little sound but didn’t wake. Caius carried her up the stairs and gritted his jaw against how she felt in his arms. Warm and soft and fragrant.
When he put her down on the bed, the blanket the nurse had placed over her slipped down and all Caius could do was look and curse silently. She was wearing a loose T-shirt and it had slipped down, revealing the upper slope of her breast.
His blood roared and he shook with the effort it took not to rouse her and have her open her arms to him. And it wasn’t just the physical release he needed, it was so much more. He wanted her to take his jagged edges and make them smooth.
He took a step back. And that was why he had to let her go, before he trapped her in a cage of his needs and desires, using her to fool himself into thinking he was a good person, who deserved the kind of uncomplicated things most people took for granted. Things likeloveandhope. Redemption. Caius smiled mirthlessly at the quaint notion.
‘Are you sure you’re feeling up to this?’ Caius asked.
‘Yes,’ Poppy responded, feeling out of sorts and irritable. And then more out of sorts for feeling grumpy. It wasn’t Caius’s fault. For the past few days, since she’d taken that walk, he’d been the absolute epitome of kindness, generosity and solicitude.
When he’d been around. But he’d barely been around.
He’d been at the office or he’d taken business dinners and meetings, late. Poppy had tried to stay up one night to catch him to talk to him but she’d woken in her bed, to find the night nurse sitting outside her room reading a book with a night light.
She knew the night nurse couldn’t have carried her to bed, so it had to have been Caius.
But as of today the doctor had given her the all-clear and now she was alone with Caius, finally. Well, in the back of a chauffeur-driven SUV, but she couldn’t concentrate because Caius was dressed for the polo match and he was wearing jodhpurs, a polo shirt and boots. And all she wanted to do was climb onto his lap and cleave herself to him.
But maybe this was the only chance she’d get to speak to him, so she turned towards him and said, ‘Caius, there’s something we should probably—’
But his phone rang and, with an apologetic grimace, he said, ‘That’s my assistant, sorry, I have to take it.’
That call was followed by another call, and another, and soon they were turning into the lush green ground of the polo club on Long Island. And then Poppy was being whisked off to the VIP hospitality area while Caius went to join his team.
Poppy gave up the notion she’d speak to him now and settled in for the afternoon of watching her first polo game. It was mesmerising. The horses were sleek and lean and the men—one of whom was another European prince she recognised—were honed and muscular.
None more so than Caius. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. He moved with the horse as one. She’d known he was a good horseman after seeing him in Valdere, but here, he was part of the horse, moving so fast sometimes he was a blur.
At one point, during a break, she saw him laughing, head thrown back, surrounded by teammates. He looked really happy. He was back in his milieu. Maybe the distance he’d been imposing was the start of him reintegrating with his old life.
Maybe she had it all wrong and he had no intention of wanting to spend more time with his daughter than he’d already committed to?
Maybe the lack of sex had made him see what he was missing. Maybe he just didn’t want her any more and was avoiding having to reject her if she came onto him? Poppy’s head hurt with all themaybes.
When his team had won and the trophy was to be presented, one of the officials came up to Poppy and said, ‘Queen Poppy, you must do us the honour of presenting the trophy.’
Poppy couldn’t very well refuse but she was uber-conscious of herself as she made her way to the little podium. She was wearing a light blue wrap dress that flattered her curves and matching wedge sandals. Hair pulled back into a loose chignon. But she hated the little prick of insecurity that she cut an ungainly figure.
Caius came and met her at the podium and held out a hand to help her up the steps. She savoured the physical contact in spite of all of the unknowns and her senses went into overdrive when she registered the smell of earthy, sweaty male. His shirt was soaked and his jodhpurs were moulded to his powerful thighs. Hair damp and curling at his neck. Streaks of muck on his face.
Poppy almost forgot what she had to do, she was so overcome with piercing lust. But somehow she managed to hand over the trophy without dropping it and Caius pulled her closer, saying sotto voce, ‘We should kiss.’
Something lanced her that he was saying that instead of just doing it. The chasm between them yawned wide open. ‘It’s OK, Caius, you can kiss me.’
He did, but it was an all too brief brush across the lips. Nevertheless it ignited every nerve-ending. Poppy could feel herself sweating and she knew it wasn’t the heat. She wanted to go to some private place with Caius exactly as he was and have him make love to her, hard and fast and—
‘I’ll just shower and change and then we’ll go, OK?’
She nodded abruptly, terrified she’d do something crazy like grab his shirt and beg him to make love to her.
Poppy didn’t try to talk to Caius on the way back to the apartment because of the driver and because, truthfully, she wasn’t sure what to even say, but when they walked back in the door Poppy turned to him before he could escape again. ‘We should talk, Caius. You can’t keep avoiding me for ever.’
He looked wary. ‘I wanted to give you space.’
Poppy walked into the main living room and kicked off her wedges. She turned around. ‘I needed space on that one day, to go for a walk, not for you to go out of your way to treat me like I’ve had the plague.’
