As she knelt beside him, hands hovering and face pinched in concern, Poppy couldn’t help the floundering of her heart in her rib cage. She was alarmed still, yes, adrenaline at full tilt— but she was also incredibly pleased and the realization of his being here to alleviate some of her misery, either on purpose or by mere coincidence. (And while she was not so blind as to really suppose this was all a mere coincidence, she liked to give him the benefit of the doubt in case that was preferable.) The fact of the matter was that he was here and her heart was all the lighter for it. A short laugh bubbled up in response to Kristoffer’s quip, and one hand came up to cover her mouth because it seemed rude to laugh at his suffering. Her free hand came to settle on his chest gently and Poppy scoffed, making to brush blonde bangs out of his eyes.
“You’ve caught me then,” she admitted playfully. “I’ve since left England to become the next Scarlet Pimpernel— or rather, Crimson Coquelicot.” She made to roll her eyes. Then, a touch more shyly, and only because it was partially for his sake that she’d been practicing: “My defensive skills have improved however, you’ll note. I won’t be needing any more knights in shining armor around the racetrack this season.” Poppy’s smile melted into something softer, quieter. She liked the idea of his always being there to protect her, despite how silly it was, but she was also happy to prove to him she didn’t need it. It was a point of pride, one she hoped he would share with her. Poppy Dashwood was no damsel in distress! (Though she was happy to feign as much for any other man, she realized somewhat irritably.)
Shooing aside those thoughts, she sat back on her heels and only just realized her hands still lingered about his face. Blushing slightly, Poppy pulled back. “Are you alright?” She asked, remiss in not having confirmed earlier.
© Fox