Chapter 22

"Lovely."

Harry gave Poppy a bemused glance. "Who . . . or should I say what . . . is Medusa?"

"Hedgehog," she replied. "Medusa's getting a bit plump, and Beatrix is exercising her."

To Harry's credit, he remained composed as he remarked, "You know, I pay my staff a fortune to keep those out of the garden."

"Oh, have no fear. Medusa is merely a guest hedgehog. She would never run away from Beatrix."

"Guest hedgehog," Harry repeated, a smile working across his mouth. He paced a few impatient steps before turning to face her. A new urgency filtered through his voice. "Poppy. Tell me what your worries are, and I'll try to answer them. There must be some terms we can come to."

"You are persistent," she said. "They told me you would be."

"I'm everything they told you and worse," Harry said without hesitation. "But what they didn't tell you is that you are the most desirable and fascinating woman I've ever met, and I would do anything to have you."