From the Bookshelf of Dangerous Hero Addict Support Group…

The dark-haired stranger contemplated her for what seemed a very long time. “I’m not finished with you yet,” he said with stunning casualness. As if no one ever refused him anything. As if he planned to keep her with him for as long as he wished.
Poppy took a deep breath. “Nevertheless, I am leaving,” she said calmly, and went to the door.
He reached it at the same time she did, one hand flattening against the door panel.
Alarm jolted through her, and she turned to face him. A swift, frantic throbbing awakened in her throat and wrists and the backs of her knees. He was standing much too close, his long, hard body nearly touching hers. She shrank against the wall.
“Before you leave,” he said softly, “I have some advice for you. It’s not safe for a young woman to wander alone through the hotel. Don’t take such a foolish risk again.”
Poppy stiffened. “It’s a reputable hotel,” she said. “I have nothing to fear.”
“Of course you do,” he murmured. “You’re looking right at it.”
And before she could think, or move, or breathe, he bent his head and took her mouth with his.

“Why me?” was all she could manage.
“Because you’re interesting and beautiful. Because saying your name makes me smile. Most of all because this may be my only hope of ever having hotchpotch.”
“I’m sorry, but…no. It wouldn’t be a good idea at all.”
“I think it’s the best idea I’ve ever had. Why can’t we?”
Poppy’s mind was spinning. She could hardly stammer out a reply. “I-I don’t like courtship. It’s very stressful. And disappointing.”
His thumb found the soft ridge of her collarbone and traced it slowly. “It’s arguable that you’ve ever had a real courtship. But if it pleases you, we’ll dispense with it altogether. That would save time.”
“I don’t want to dispense with it,” Poppy said, increasingly flustered. She trembled as she felt his fingertips glide along the side of her neck. “What I mean is…Mr. Rutledge, I’ve just been through a very difficult experience. This is too soon.”
“You were courted by a boy, who had to do as he was told.” His hot breath feathered against her lips as he whispered, “You should try it with a man, who needs no one’s permission.”


Why the hell was it so quiet in the apartment? He wanted people running, fetching things. He wanted action.
After tucking the covers around Poppy, he left the room in rapid strides.
Three maids were still in the hallway, talking amongst themselves. Harry scowled, and the maids blanched simultaneously.
“S-sir?” one of them asked nervously.
“Why are you all standing here?” he demanded. “And where is Mrs. Pennywhistle? I want one of you to find her immediately, and tell her to hurry! And I want the other two of you to start fetching things.”
“What kind of things, sir?” one of them quavered.
“Things for Mrs. Rutledge. A hot water bottle. Ice. Laudanum. A pot of tea. A book. I don’t give a damn, just start bringing things!”
The two maids scampered away like terrified squirrels.

Later……. “Yes, I’ll see if the doctor’s arrived,” the housekeeper said. “And I’ll have a brief talk with the housemaids. For some reason they’re piling the strangest assortment of objects near the doorway…” LOL!


And he knew that Poppy would never soften toward him unless he began with a sincere apology for taking her away from Michael Bayning. The problem was, he couldn’t. Because he wasn’t at all sorry about what he’d done, he was only sorry that she was unhappy about it. He would never regret having done what was necessary to marry her, because she was what he had wanted most in his life.
Poppy was every fine, good, unselfish impulse that he would never have. She was every caring thought, loving gesture, happy moment, that he would never know. She was every minute of peaceful sleep that would forever elude him. According to the law of universal balance, Poppy had been put into the world to compensate for Harry and his wickedness. Which was probably why, as the opposite of two magnetic forces, Harry was so damnably drawn to her.


After a while, he murmured softly into the pale, fragrant curve of her neck. “I’m going to make love to you all night, Poppy. And the first time, you’re going to feel very safe. But the second time, I’m going to be a little bit wicked…and you’ll like that even more. And the third time –” he paused with a smile as he heard her breath catch. “The third time, I’m going to do things that will mortify you when you remember them tomorrow.” He kissed her gently. “And you’ll love that most of all.”