Poppy watched his lips move, but the words didn’t register on her. She stared blankly at him for a moment and looked down at herself. It was then that she noticed something was wrong with her cloak. Her heart pounded as she stared and stared while her mind struggle to comprehend what she was seeing.
“What is it?” Luke demanded. His heart flipped when he realised what she was showing him. “Poppy, did he hurt you?” he demanded sharply. “Did he hurt you?” he demanded more loudly when she didn’t answer him. He grabbed her shoulders to give her a swift shake to snap her out of her daze. When she still didn’t answer him he yanked open the folds of the cloak so he could see beneath.
“I am not hurt,” she whispered. She just couldn’t tear her gaze away from the folds of the material.
Luke couldn’t think of anything to say, so hauled her into his arms and held her tightly against him where he knew she was safe.
Poppy leaned against him for several moments and allowed the tears to fall. Her fear began to subside now they were in the safety of the house, and she was in the comfort of his strong arms. She was intensely grateful he was there because she knew now that she would never be able to cope with life in London on her own. After what had happened to her in the last several horrifying days she knew she would be dead in a gutter if it wasn’t for the man who was holding her so tightly it was as though his life depended upon her being there. She couldn’t help herself; she slid her arms around him and returned his embrace just as tightly, or tried to.
When she jostled his ribs he sucked in a pained breath and eased back when stars began to dance in his eyes again.
“He hurt you,” she whispered. She leaned back to study the cuts on his face. She touched what looked like the beginnings of a bruise beside his mouth with gentle fingers and realised then that he must be in considerable pain. “Let me clean you up.”
“I am fine,” Luke growled. Before she could move he tugged her back into his arms. He rested his cheek on the top of her head and simply savoured the feel of her for several moments. His bruises could wait right now. Nothing was more important than this moment. His gaze fell to the frenzied cuts on the cloak. He knew now that his life would never be the same.
“Poppy, just what in the hell have you gotten yourself into?” he growled.
Poppy looked up at him. “I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going on,” she whispered.
“Did he hurt you?” he demanded again, his voice husky with a mixture of fear and raw need. “Are you sure you are not hurt?”
Thankfully, the cloak seemed to have received the worst of the trauma. He forced himself to study the cuts in the material again, but the mere sight of the violence made him feel sick.
Poppy shook her head, unable to speak.
“God, Poppy,” he murmured. Before she could object he hauled her toward him and settled a kiss on her lips that seared them both.
Her senses swam. Her breath locked in her throat. She couldn’t think; couldn’t speak. The jolt of awareness that swept through her left her clinging on to him for dear life. Everything was forgotten; her bags, where they were, Clarence, his bruises, what had just happened. Nothing else mattered except Luke, who was laying claim to her in a way that she had never considered possible. It didn’t bother her that she was letting him. She was ensnared by the force of desire that held them together and returned his caresses with equal fervour. She didn’t know where to touch him though. His ribs clearly hurt, and his face was covered in cuts and bruises that needed to be seen to. With that in mind she slid her fingers into his soft hair and held on for dear life while she gave herself over to the life-reaffirming emotions that coursed through her. His lips slid against hers and increased in pressure until she opened to him. Her gasp was swallowed. Before she could even draw breath the kiss deepened and turned into a searing possession that turned her knees weak and rendered her useless to do anything except explore the tumultuous emotions coursing through her.
Luke had never tasted anything so sweet, so alluring in his life. She fitted into his arms as though she had been born to be there. His body was rock hard and desperate to assuage the raw hunger that made him shake. For the first time in his adult life he struggled to remember where they were and retain some semblance of control. He had to work hard to remember the danger they were in so they didn’t get caught out should the attacker appear at the door, but it was so very difficult with such alluring temptation wrapped around him.
To her dismay, his lips vanished as swiftly as they had landed upon hers. She moaned when h
e suddenly released her and tried to draw him back down but he merely rested his head against hers and starved her of the kisses she so desperately wanted.
“We need to stop,” he murmured reluctantly. It was the last thing he wanted to do, but she had just had a fright. He didn’t want to take advantage of while she was so scared and have her regret it later. She was accepting his embraces, returning his kisses with equal fervour, and had no objection to the ferocity of the passion they shared. He knew that if they weren’t careful it wouldn’t be too long before matters went further, but he wanted her to want him, the man, and not him, the protector. He knew that after today it was essential she not have any doubts or regrets about their association because she was going to be in his life for a very, very, long time. She just didn’t know it yet.
Poppy slowly released him, more reluctant than she had ever thought she would be to have to do so, but she did anyway and stepped backward. She felt as though she was letting go of something precious; something she should hold on to instead. It was unnerving; it was exciting; and she knew it had just changed her forever.
“Let me get some water. Those cuts need cleaning,” she murmured for want of anything else to say. If she was honest she just needed to touch him. If he wasn’t going to hold or kiss her, or let her hold and kiss him, then she could at least bathe his face. Before he could object, she hurried to the bucket and poured some water into a bowl.
Luke dutifully took a seat but while he waited for her to return, spread the cloak out on the table so they could both see the full extent of the damage it had sustained.
“Wha –” Anything else she was about to say froze in her throat as she stared down at the horrifying gashes on the cloak. Now that there was proper light to see them they were even more disturbing.
Their eyes met and held. Luke slid a hand around her waist and drew her against him, shaken by the ferocity of the slashes. To think that Poppy had been wearing it left him cold. More than cold, it made him incredibly angry but also deeply worried.
Before Poppy could speak, Luke removed the item he had picked off the street from his pocket and dropped it onto the table beside the cloak. The clatter of the blade of the wicked-looking knife hitting the wooden surface made her jump. She clung the reassuring solidity of Luke in horror as she studied it. She tried to get her mind to work enough to decide what to do next, about Luke, and the attack that could have taken her life, about her life now that everything was in turmoil. Now that the first haze of sensuality from his kisses started to fade completely, horror began to replace it, but that was swiftly replaced with raw, unadulterated fury at the senseless act of violence that had come out of nowhere.
“He tried to kill me,” she whispered.
“He won’t,” Luke growled.
It galled him to think that although he had done his best to try to protect her, the man had gotten close enough to do so much damage. It had only been the huge cloak that had kept her alive. He pressed a kiss to her temple and sucked in a breath when she turned toward him and drew his head down toward hers. In that moment he knew he would give her anything she wanted. If she wanted a kiss then he was more than happy to oblige because, after seeing the cold hard evidence of her near-miss, he needed just as much reassurance as her. Still, there was something deep within him that needed to be sure she knew what she was doing.
“Poppy,” he whispered cautiously.
“I nearly died tonight.”