Tempt Me at Twilight (The Hathaways, #3)

by Lisa Kleypas

“Kev,” Win said calmly, stepping forward, “I would like to talk to you about something.” Merripen, attentive as always to his wife, gave her a frowning glance. “Now?” “Yes, now.” “Can’t it wait?” “No,” Win said equably. At his continued hesitation, she said, “I’m expecting.” Merripen blinked. “Expecting what?” “A baby.”

They all watched as Merripen’s face turned ashen. “But how . . . ,” he asked dazedly, nearly staggering as he headed to Win. “How?” Leo repeated. “Merripen, don’t you remember that special talk we had before your wedding night?” He grinned as Merripen gave him a warning glance. Bending to Win’s ear, Leo murmured, “Well done. But what are you going to tell him when he discovers it was only a ploy?” “It’s not a ploy,” Win said cheerfully. Leo’s smile vanished, and he clapped a hand to his forehead. “Christ,” he muttered. “Where’s my brandy?” And he disappeared into the house.

Harry shook his head in bemusement. “Your family—” “I know,” Cam said. “You’ll get used to us eventually.”

One thing was clear to Harry: His in-laws were not normal people.

“I’m sorry I’m not the husband you wanted.” His voice turned gravelly. “But I swear on my life, if you’ll tell me what you need, I’ll listen. I’ll do anything you ask. Just don’t leave me again.”

“Harry,” she said softly, daring to reach out and caress his jaw, “what am I to do with you?” “Anything,” he said with a heartfelt vehemence that almost made her laugh. Leaning forward, Harry pressed his face into the silky mass of her hair.

“I’m not fool enough to compete with Medusa for chair space,” he said, and she laughed. “I like your family,” he said, unhooking the front of her corset, gradually freeing her from the web of cloth and stays. “Seeing you with them helps me to understand you better.”

A feeling of compassion and tenderness came over Harry, something he had never felt for her before. Reaching out, he drew her close and kissed her forehead gently. “Let me be your big brother,” he whispered.

Harry knew instantly that he shouldn’t have said it—the comment was the kind of cold-blooded sarcasm he had always resorted to when he felt the need to defend himself. He regretted it even before he saw Merripen out of the periphery of his vision. The Rom was giving him a warning shake of his head and drawing a finger across his throat.

Harry cleared his throat. “I’m sorry,” he said brusquely. “I was joking. It was in poor—” He ducked as something came flying at him. “What the devil—” She had thrown something at him, a cushion.

“I don’t want to be a widow, I don’t want Michael Bayning, and I don’t want you to joke about such things, you tactless clodpole!”

Bewildered by the immediate force of her fury—it was like being stung by a butterfly—Harry stared after her dumbly. After a moment, he asked the first coherent thought that came to him. “Did she just say she doesn’t want Bayning?” “Yes,” Win said, a smile hovering on her lips. “That’s what she said. Go after her, Harry.”

“That doesn’t matter. Apologize anyway.” Merripen paused and added in whisper, “And whenever your wife is angry . . . for God’s sake, don’t try logic.” “I heard that,” Win said from the chaise.

It was finally becoming clear to her that love wasn’t about finding someone perfect to marry. Love was about seeing through to the truth of a person, and accepting all their shades of light and dark. Love was an ability.

“I shouldn’t have,” Harry said quickly. “That was unfair, and wrong. I should have considered that you were distressed because you still care for him, and—” Poppy stopped dead in her tracks, staring at him with scornful astonishment. “Oh! How a man whom everyone considers so intelligent can be such an imbecile—” Shaking her head, she continued to storm along the drive.

Merripen had responded with a volley of Romany that no one except Cam could understand. And Cam refused to translate a word of it, claiming there were no English equivalents and that was a good thing.

“I’m almost surprised you’re letting me take her,” Harry said to Cam after handing his wife into the carriage. “Oh, we voted this morning, and it was a unanimous decision,” his brother-in-law replied in a matter-of-fact tone. “You voted on my marriage?” “Yes, we decided you fit in with the family quite well.” “Oh, God,” Harry said, just as Cam closed the carriage door.

“It’s come to my attention that you haven’t gone on holiday in far too long. I want you to arrange something for yourself immediately.” “I wouldn’t know what to do on holiday,” Jake protested, and Harry smiled.

Jake looked at the others with a dumbfounded expression. “He’s an entirely different man,” he said dazedly. Mrs. Pennywhistle smiled. “No, he’ll always be Harry Rutledge. It’s just that now . . . he’s Harry Rutledge with a heart.”

Since it falls to me to explain to you . . . we’re not nearly as civilized as you seem to think. In fact, we were much happier in the days when we could simply chase off a rival at spearpoint.

The situation reminded her of something her mother had often said about marriage: “Never remember his mistakes, but always remember your own.”

“I’m sorry.” Poppy relaxed against him as he continued to hold her. She closed her eyes. “Damn it,” he said into the loose sheaf of her hair, “I’m so sorry. It’s just that the thought of you having any feelings for Bayning . . . it . . . doesn’t bring out the best in me.”

“It tortures me,” he admitted gruffly. “I don’t want you to care for any man but me. Even if I don’t deserve it.”

“I’m going to buy an island and take you there. A ship will come once a month with supplies. The rest of the time it will be just the two of us, wearing leaves and eating exotic fruit and making love on the beach . . . ” “You’d start a produce export business and organize a local economy within a month,” she said flatly. Harry groaned as he recognized the truth of it. “God. Why do you tolerate me?”

“No, Michael,” she said quietly. “I’m afraid you’re too conventional to suit me.” And Leo closed the door in Michael Bayning’s astonished face.

My brother loves to play the part of featherbed aristocrat, but he’s far more clever than he lets on.”

“Quite professional,” the constable told Valentine, as he replaced the lock picks in his pocket. “I don’t know whether to commend you or arrest you. Where did you learn to do that?” Valentine sent a grin in Harry’s direction. “My employer.”

“If there’s one thing that today has made clear,” Special Constable Hembrey quipped, “it’s that the world needs only one Harry Rutledge.”

I can’t think of a single day of my life that wouldn’t have been improved with you in it.”

“Darling,” she whispered, her fingertips coming up to stroke his jaw, “that’s lovely. Even more romantic than comparing me to watch parts.”

one can’t avoid the storms and calamities of life, but one can at least find the right partner to face them with.”