Learned his lesson, hm? Well, yes, if he’d known she was going to walk in on him without any warning, Kris would have spent the appropriate time preening before to be sure he looked his best. (More than appropriate, probably, until he was looking – irresistible, or whatever.)
Because that was really the mode of operation beneath all this, wasn’t it? Try to drive her crazy one way or another before she did the same to him. As far as Kristoffer’s ambitions went, this one had already proved unreasonably persistent. She hadn’t caved once any more than she wanted to and – well, he felt like he was caving every time he saw her. Look at this, would you: she’d come to his room and dragged him up out of bed and already he was obeying her every command without question.
Well. With question, which was lucky, because managing to get her to look at him at that inconvenient moment was just enough of a triumph to keep Kristoffer’s ego intact after all. It made him feel a little better about his reaction in bed just now. He didn’t say anything to mark the moment of victory, merely grinned – mostly to himself, because her eyes had darted, all too quickly, to the window.
Now that she had removed herself again, Kristoffer shrugged on a shirt and waistcoat and buttoned them up, then socks and boots, less able to be leisurely than he had supposed when there was evidently some escapade on offer. Poppy knew how he felt about surreptitious escapades.
So he was perfectly happy to indulge this, whatever the excuse for it – and the excuse soon came to light. “Oh, Charles,” Kris pronounced, grasping a jacket in one hand and throwing it over his shoulder for the moment, and placing his other hand on her shoulder, briefly, to tell her he was right behind her, and ready to go. “Well, now, that is an urgent issue,” he said, a flash of amusement in his eyes as he glanced down at her, “that we really do need to put to bed.” (A pity they weren’t literally putting anything to bed –) But who would handle whom, was the question; Poppy had called him her leading man. Now that was a challenge Kristoffer needed to win. He could handle a stupid horse.
Because that was really the mode of operation beneath all this, wasn’t it? Try to drive her crazy one way or another before she did the same to him. As far as Kristoffer’s ambitions went, this one had already proved unreasonably persistent. She hadn’t caved once any more than she wanted to and – well, he felt like he was caving every time he saw her. Look at this, would you: she’d come to his room and dragged him up out of bed and already he was obeying her every command without question.
Well. With question, which was lucky, because managing to get her to look at him at that inconvenient moment was just enough of a triumph to keep Kristoffer’s ego intact after all. It made him feel a little better about his reaction in bed just now. He didn’t say anything to mark the moment of victory, merely grinned – mostly to himself, because her eyes had darted, all too quickly, to the window.
Now that she had removed herself again, Kristoffer shrugged on a shirt and waistcoat and buttoned them up, then socks and boots, less able to be leisurely than he had supposed when there was evidently some escapade on offer. Poppy knew how he felt about surreptitious escapades.
So he was perfectly happy to indulge this, whatever the excuse for it – and the excuse soon came to light. “Oh, Charles,” Kris pronounced, grasping a jacket in one hand and throwing it over his shoulder for the moment, and placing his other hand on her shoulder, briefly, to tell her he was right behind her, and ready to go. “Well, now, that is an urgent issue,” he said, a flash of amusement in his eyes as he glanced down at her, “that we really do need to put to bed.” (A pity they weren’t literally putting anything to bed –) But who would handle whom, was the question; Poppy had called him her leading man. Now that was a challenge Kristoffer needed to win. He could handle a stupid horse.
