De la Guerra steadied himself, then actually pulled the shirt off his body, tying it around his waist to keep it from catching on another branch.
The leaves hid some his body, but there was still far more male figure visible than Poppy had ever seen in her whole life.
Norbury made a sound like a stifled laugh. Poppy tried to look away, but then gave up, sure that the moment she did so, de la Guerra would fall.
He got to the thinner section of the branch, which bent alarmingly. He reached forward, moving with agonizing slowness. He extracted something small from a clump of leaves, and then backed up to the wider part of the main branch.
Poppy took a cautious breath, hoping the worst was over. And then nearly shrieked, because de la Guerra suddenly swung to the bottom of the branch, with only one hand holding on. He dropped to the ground, disappearing into the thicker shrubbery.
“Are you dead?” Norbury called.
“Not yet,” de la Guerra answered, sounding cheerful and very much alive.
Poppy exhaled, then inhaled once more as de la Guerra emerged from the living wall of the plants, shirtless and smiling. He held a small gray creature in his hand, and he walked directly up to Poppy.
“This one must be yours, Miss St. George,” he said, handing it to her.
Poppy took it, still staring at his bare skin, which was deeply tanned and quite smooth, except for several slightly raised tattoos on his well-muscled arms and chest.
Norbury cleared his throat meaningfully, and de la Guerra stepped away, untying the rolled-up shirt and putting it on again. He accepted his jacket from Poppy’s outstretched arm, and within a moment, he looked vaguely respectable again.
Her cheeks burning, Poppy devoted her attention to the kitten while he dressed. The tiny gray cat had china-blue eyes, and white-tipped ears. It mewed at Poppy in inquiry, and she said, “It’s all right now, little one. We’ll take care of you until we find your mother…if you still have a mother.” Judging by how scrawny the kitten felt, she rather doubted it. Had the kittens been abandoned?
Just then, a voice boomed out from near the house. “Whatever is going on here?” It was Mr. Blake, looking rather upset.
Rose turned to the house, calling back, “Our guests have just rescued two kittens! Isn’t it wonderful?”
It was difficult for anyone to tell Rose a thing wasn’t wonderful when she was so happy and smiling like she was in that moment. Poppy just hoped that the presence of the kittens might divert the attention of Mr. Blake from the fact that one of the men in the garden was a total stranger to him.
“We’d better get this sorted immediately,” Poppy told the others in a low voice. They all moved to the terrace. Poppy saw the table and the half-written letter there, feeling that part of the morning happened a lifetime ago.
Mr. Blake handled the introduction of Mr. de la Guerra well enough, accepting that he was a friend of Lord Norbury without thinking much more about it (thankfully, the man had got his jacket back on very quickly).
Mr. Blake was frowning in puzzlement at the kittens. “Where did these come from?”
“They were in the garden, and Lord Norbury and Mr. de la Guerra retrieved them. I believe they’re extremely hungry.”
“Well, Cook will have something for them,” Mr. Blake said. “Why don’t you girls go to the kitchen and find out. The gentlemen must have other calls to make.”
“Indeed, sir,” Norbury said easily, obviously catching the implicit command. “We are glad to have been of service, unexpected as the form of it was.”
De la Guerra echoed this, and even bowed over Poppy’s free hand (the other being occupied holding a squirming kitten).
“Come, come,” Mr. Blake said. “Let’s get these kittens tended to. Haven’t you got to prepare for your performance tonight, Rose?”
“Performance?” de la Guerra echoed, confused.
“Rose is going to perform at Lady Selby’s tonight, as part of a little musicale evening. I think there will be one professional signer invited, but the others are all just enthusiasts.” Poppy felt the need to explain, for typically young ladies like Rose would never perform in public.
“Then we will not distract you further,” Norbury said. “Good day, ladies.”
Poppy held the kitten closer when it tried to leap out of her arms toward de la Guerra. “Oh, no,” she murmured. “You’re staying right here.”
De la Guerra glanced back at her just once, and Poppy didn’t dare return his smile, for fear he’d take it as interest. She was not at all interested in him. The memory of him half-naked flashed in front of her mind again.
No, not interested at all.
Chapter 11
