Chapter Eight #2
‘Nevertheless, I had a duty and now my sister has to bear that burden.’
Poppy could hear the self-censure in his voice. For the first time she had a full appreciation of how much Caius had blamed himself for something that had been completely out of his control.
‘Your parents had a duty to you, to support and guide and protect.’
Caius made a face. ‘My father suspected I wasn’t his, and my mother most likely knew. So between her guilt and his suspicion and their fights, there was no time for anything else. In any case, they had no ability or desire to care about anyone else but themselves.’
Poppy knew what that looked like. Lightly she said, ‘It looks like your sister has good support in her fiancé. They seem to be genuinely in love.’
‘Ares was my best friend. I sent him to protect Cassie and he ended up seducing her.’
Poppy laughed. ‘From the little I saw of your sister, I can imagine she had some say in the matter and I’m sure Ares is still your best friend.’
‘Maybe, when I can excise the images of them together out of my head.’
Poppy was touched by Caius’s obvious affection for his sister and friend. He could love. It made something dangerous inside her bloom.
He reached for her and pulled her down with him so she lay in sprawl over him.
‘I think you’re a fraud, Caius Mansur,’ she said.
His expression shuttered. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, I think there’s a lot more to you than you want people to think.’
He shook his head. ‘That’s just it, there really isn’t. This is it.’
But there was more to him. Poppy was seeing that now. He felt deeply, even if he wouldn’t admit it.
But before she could probe or see any further, Caius caught a lock of hair in his fingers and tugged her head down.
Her mouth hovered over his for an infinitesimal moment as if she could pretend she was capable of resisting his pull, but he lifted his head, and their mouths touched and any hope of resistance was gone.
He moved them so that she was on her back and he was on his side. The kiss became hungry and desperate in seconds and Caius reached for her jeans, snapping them open.
T-shirts were pulled off, Poppy had one leg in her jeans, the other free, Caius’s jeans were pulled down around his ankles and when he joined their bodies, Poppy bit into his shoulder to stop herself from crying out even though they were surrounded by nothing but snow-capped mountains and the lake and grazing horses.
It was fast and messy and sweaty and glorious, under the shade of the trees. Afterwards, as their skin cooled and heartbeats returned to normal, Poppy was tempted to tell Caius he couldn’t distract and deflect for ever, but she realised that that was exactly what he’d just done to her.
Two weeks later, Manhattan
It felt jarring to be back in a big city after the last few weeks in Valdere, in the clear, high mountain air, with the big endless sky. Now it was hard to even see much sky with all the soaring skyscrapers.
Or maybe, it was that Poppy felt exposed. Vulnerable. And it wasn’t pregnancy hormones. It was Caius.
They were here because Caius had meetings and Poppy had agreed to come.
She was on the board of several charitable organisations so there was always something to do if she was in New York, and, as Caius had pointed out, it would be good to appear in public, solidifying the illusion of their marriage.
The only problem with that was the fact that it didn’t feel like so much of an illusion to Poppy. It felt far more disturbingly ambiguous and hard to define.
The last two weeks had passed as if in a kind of dream, a dream she’d never dared hope might exist, because she’d certainly never seen it between her father and any of his wives, including her mother.
She and Caius had settled into a rhythm.
They would spend the nights together in his room or hers.
They had separate rooms but adjoining suites, much like the chateau on the island.
Mornings were spent working in their respective offices and then they’d go horse riding in the afternoons.
Caius looked ten years younger on the back of a horse, his face relaxed, body at ease, moving as one with the horse.
They’d explored a lot of trails and Poppy had taken him to some of her favourite private spots, revealing that she’d escape there to avoid her father’s ever-present disappointment or the inevitable arguments between him and his latest wife when no children materialised.
One day she’d asked, ‘You’re really not missing the social whirl?’ She’d hated herself for asking, fearing it exposed her insecurity.
He’d glanced at her, mouth tipping up slightly. ‘Remember what I said about twenty per cent?’
Poppy had pointed out, ‘Twenty per cent of your social activity was still probably more than most see in a lifetime.’
He’d laughed and it had made Poppy feel as if she’d won something, because it was a genuine laugh.
He’d said after a while, ‘I’d started to pull back in preparation for becoming king.
I was making sure my business was set up under new management while I would be in Sadat more often.
Not that the media would have you believe it.
They just rehashed old photos and video footage and made it look like I was out every night. ’
Poppy had teased, ‘So you weren’t really there that night in Paris? It was a mirage?’
He’d looked at her and then down at her bump and back up to catch her face flaming. ‘No, that was very real. The most real thing that had happened to me in a long time.’
They’d been riding and the trail had narrowed so Caius had gone ahead—since that first day he’d been mindful of the horses getting spooked—and Poppy had looked at his broad back and tried to figure out exactly what he’d meant by that statement.
Had he meant it negatively? Or positively?
It had been impossible to know from his tone of voice.
But, of course, within minutes he’d been employing one of his expert methods of distraction. They didn’t even have to be expert—all he had to do was look at her in a certain way and she forgot her name.
The SUV was pulling to a stop outside a tall, elegant apartment building on the edge of Central Park. She’d been here before, the day she’d come to tell Caius about the pregnancy and he’d brought her here from his office.
He got out of the car and came around to her side and opened the door, holding out his hand.
Poppy took it, and a little electric current ran up her arm, making her fingers tighten reflexively on Caius’s.
They shared a look for a moment and Poppy could swear she saw something almost like bewilderment in Caius’s eyes. As if to say, How can I still want her?
But then he was leading her into the building and up the elevator to the penthouse apartment. It was as impressive as she remembered, huge picture windows looking over the park and doors opening out onto a generous terrace that was on different levels.
‘I didn’t show you around the last time,’ Caius mentioned dryly.
‘Um, no,’ Poppy said. No, the last time had been fraught to say the least.
‘Let me remedy that now.’ Caius still had Poppy’s hand in his and she dropped her bag as he led her from the impressive reception area with its elegant couches, coffee tables and chairs to the sleek kitchen with its own little eating area.
Beside that was a formal dining room that could seat a football team.
There was a media room with a home cinema, a gym with a lap pool and a spacious home office. Caius gestured. ‘Feel free to use this as your office too.’
Then upstairs there were numerous bedrooms and en suites. The master suite took up an entire corner with windows taking in an almost three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of Manhattan.
Poppy shook her head. ‘This is stunning, Caius.’ Even for someone like her, who had grown up around a certain level of wealth and luxury.
‘It’s the first property I bought with my own money.’
She looked at him and sensed his pride and assessed, ‘It’s important to you, isn’t it? To have done this on your own?’
He nodded a little. ‘Maybe because I always sensed that I was a cuckoo in the nest, I had an instinctive need to prove myself.’
Before Poppy could respond to that a woman dressed in smart black trousers and a shirt knocked on an adjoining door that led into a vast dressing room and said, ‘Your things are unpacked. Will you be dining in this evening?’
Caius looked at Poppy and raised a brow in question. Poppy realised she felt a bit weary after the journey and because they weren’t exactly getting much sleep at night. She said, ‘I’m a little tired and the twenty-week scan is early tomorrow. I might stay in, but you should go out if you like?’
Poppy figured Caius must be chomping at the bit to get back to his social scene, no matter what he’d said about ‘twenty per cent’. But he said to the woman, ‘We’ll both be in for the evening, if you can let chef know, please.’
‘Certainly.’ The woman left.
Poppy took her hand from Caius’s. For some reason she felt a little on edge. As if Caius choosing to stay in was more unsettling than if he’d gone out. ‘Don’t feel like you have to babysit me, Caius. If you want to go out, it’s no problem, really.’
‘And equally, it’s no problem to stay in. Unless you’d prefer to be alone?’
This was said lightly but Poppy could sense an undertone of something, something that almost made her feel a little guilty for suggesting she might not want to spend the evening with Caius. She shook her head. ‘No, of course not… I just…’
‘You just expect me to want to go clubbing at the first opportunity.’
‘I…maybe,’ Poppy admitted, feeling a little foolish now.
She had to concede that it had been weeks, months, since Caius had graced a tabloid with his antics.
Was she trying to push him back to some kind of safe distance because the truth was that she’d never expected him to become embedded—literally—in her life so easily?