John the Baptist pecked at a bar on his cage.“Vulgare amici nomen, sed rara est fides.”
“‘The name of friend is common, but true friendship is rare,’” Hammond translated. “He’s listened to Latin quotations, I see.”
“I had a collection of snakeskins on my bedroom wall,” John the Baptist announced. “He has fared well, Hammond, thank you.”
Theodosia felt a sudden sense of foreboding when she remembered how much her parrot had heard Roman say in the past. “Hammond, please sit down, so that we may—”
“I am a gentleman,” John the Baptist interrupted. “I’m going to raise horses!”
“My, but he is loquacious, isn’t he?” Hammond commented.
John the Baptist lifted his right wing. “I was thinking of Brazil. Don’t you like the look of my uvula?”
Theodosia stood and hurried to the window. “John the Baptist hears a great many things, Hammond, and more often than not I have not an inkling as to where he has heard them. He—”
“When Flora moved in, the pie lady never came back,” John the Baptist continued.
Hammond leaned down to the cage for a closer look at the bird.
The parrot squawked. “Why the hell is he talking about beetroot? I’ll cover up my throbbing masculinity with a towel.”
Hammond gasped. The bird was imitating Roman Montana, he realized. The curse and indecent sexual comment convinced him of that.
Throbbing masculinity.Hammond felt a surge of jealous anger. “Fascinating bird,” he forced himself to say. “Simply fascinating.”
“I told Flora about my dream of turning the farm into a horse ranch,” John the Baptist screeched, “and she said my plan was a castle in the air.” Theodosia quickly covered the cage with a cloth. Her parrot protested immediately by throwing water on the cloth. “I’ve heard of going insane, blind, or growing hair on the palm of your hand. Awk! She was Secret’s dam, and his sire was Driscoll’s Thoroughbred.”
Hammond didn’t miss the look of dread that leaped into Theodosia’s eyes, nor did he ignore the fact that she’d swiftly covered the cage. The parrot was most definitely repeating what it had heard Roman say in the past, and Theodosia apparently considered the statements exceedingly private.
He straightened and led her back to her chair. “Well, my dear, how do you feel?”
She knew precisely what he meant. Hammond was ready to proceed with the bedding. “I…”
“Would you care to converse for a while longer?”
His suggestion relieved her immensely. “Yes. Yes, I would.”
He smiled. “What shall we talk about? We’ve been together all day and have already discussed a wealth of subjects.” He looked around the room, pretending to deliberate upon a possible conversation. “Why don’t we discuss a few of the things your parrot mentioned? I must say that he is quite astonishing. What has he heard about a pie lady, for goodness sake? And who does he know named Flora?”
She was saved from having to answer when someone knocked on the door. “Excuse me.” She stood and advanced to the door. “It’s not locked, but it won’t open,” she said when the doorknob wouldn’t turn.
Standing in the corridor, Roman grasped the knob and forced the door open.
Theodosia drank in the sight of him. She hadn’t seen him since that morning, and although the uncaring attitude he’d shown over the possible failure of her plans continued to sting her feelings, she’d thought about him all day. “Roman.”
He’d never seen her wear the dress she had on tonight. The same color as her eyes, it looked beautiful next to her pale skin and flaxen hair.
He wondered if she’d put the pretty gown on especially for Hammond. He wondered, too, when she would be taking it off for Hammond.
He knew he shouldn’t have come to her room, but he hadn’t been able to stay away. “I left some things in one of the dresser drawers. Can I get them?”
Hammond snorted.“Mayyou get them,” he corrected imperiously, then stiffened when an ice-blue gaze sliced across the room and stabbed into him.
Never taking his eyes away from Hammond, Roman strode into the room, his Colts sliding upon his thighs. Taking his time, he removed a shirt, a razor, and a black kerchief from the dresser drawer.
Hammond cleared his throat to get Theodosia’s attention and stifled a vindictive smile. “While Mr. Montana is collecting his things, why don’t you sit back down so that we may continue our conversation, my dear? I believe a few of the subjects mentioned were a pie lady, a person named Flora, the unattainable dream of turning a farm into a horse ranch, and a certain Thoroughbred who belonged to Driscoll. Those were the topics we were about to discuss, were they not?”
Roman went completely rigid. Only his eyes moved as he settled his gaze on the sole person in the world in whom he’d ever confided.
