Then Rose heard a high-pitched squeak, and Norbury pronounced in triumph, “Ha! Got you!”
“What is happening?” Rose asked.
Norbury made his way back to the safety of the lawn.
“Oh, sir! Your jacket is destroyed,” Poppy declared in chagrin.
“I have more,” he said carelessly, even as he moved toward Rose. “Hold out your arms,” he told her.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because you have rescued a kitten,” Adrian declared. He carefully placed a small ball of fluff into Rose’s waiting arms. For a moment, she felt his hands against her arms, warm and gentle as he stroked the little mewling creature.
“It’s all right,” he crooned, “We’ve got you. Rose will take care of you now. You’re not much more than mud and fur, are you? You need a good meal and a bath before you’ll be allowed among society.”
She marveled at how gently he spoke to the cat, how utterly different his tone was to the sharp, bored voice he used when around most people.
“What color is it?” Rose asked. She cradled the cat next to her body, loving the animal’s warmth and the kitten’s tiny meow of inquiry.
“Muddy, to be honest. But I suspect it will be revealed as a good, honest tabby cat.”
“Auntie won’t like this,” Poppy murmured.
“I’ve always wanted a cat!” Rose said, delighted. “Thank you, my lord!”
“You’re the one who heard it mewling. Is it still mewling?”
“No, it’s purring….” Rose hesitated, because she did hear a meowing sound. But it wasn’t coming from the kitten in her arms. She tipped her head, turning her ear to better catch the source of the noise. Frowning, she looked up. “It’s coming from above somehow. Poppy?” she asked, prompting her cousin to confirm what she heard.
Poppy said, “I hear it too. There must be another kitten stuck somewhere. Oh, Auntie will hate this.”
* * * *
Poppy listened harder, and pointed to a tree that branched above the rosebush. “I think the other kitten must have climbed up there and got stuck. It’s going to starve up there, or fall out. We can’t reach it all the way up there.”
“I’ll get it,” de la Guerra said.
“You can’t do that!”
“Watch me. And don’t worry, only one jacket needs to die this day,” he replied, already divesting himself of his jacket. He handed it to Poppy as if that were a normal thing to do. Mouth slightly agape, she took the jacket and folded it over her arm, trying very hard not to notice the lingering body heat in the fabric.
De la Guerra plunged into the greenery surrounding the tree in question, leaving the others to wait.
“Not how I expected to spend the morning,” Norbury commented with his usual complacent air.
“I do hope your friend won’t do something risky,” Rose added, holding the first kitten to her chest.
“That would be a false hope, Miss Blake.”
And indeed, de la Guerra had already begun to climb the trunk of the tree, moving easily as he got higher and higher, finally reaching the main branch the kitten’s cries seemed to be coming from.
“He’s going to break his neck,” Poppy muttered.
“He’s climbed masts in storms, Miss St. George. I doubt this excursion will be the one to finish him off.”
Nevertheless, Poppy worried. She watched as the man clambered out onto the branch. He acted very confident, and she had to admit he seemed to know what he was doing. Then the sleeve of his shirt caught on a stray branch and he cursed in Spanish as he lurched to the side, almost losing his balance.
“Oh, Lord,” Poppy breathed, sure he was about to crash to the ground.
