Of course, that had been the heat of the moment. Now reality was beginning to creep in, along with worries about the future. About consequences.
How will I escape this situation with my reputation intact? Although Conrad said that he would “take care of it”—whatever that means—he cannot control everything. If we are discovered, I will be ruined. My family will be devastated. The only solution would be to marry Conrad, but he obviously doesn’t want to marry me. And I don’t want to be married either...at least, not out of necessity. Not because “worse came to worst”…
A high-pitched trill interrupted her spiraling thoughts.
Is that a bird? In here?
Carefully, she tried to extricate herself from Conrad. Even in sleep, he held her tightly, and as she attempted to scoot from under his arm, his lashes lifted. With his hair tousled and eyes sleepy, he was so attractive that her heart tottered against her ribs.
“What’s the matter, duchess?” he said alertly.
“I, um, heard something.” Flustered, she said, “It sounded like a bird.”
He sat up, running a hand through his dark-blond waves. Waves that had been mussed by her own hands as she’d clung to him in the throes.
“In here?” he demanded.
“I think so.”
He was already on his feet. Donning his dried shirt, he prowled around the caldarium. She grabbed a dusty candle from the stash they’d found and joined him in the search. When a series of chirps broke the silence, Gigi followed the sound to an alcove that she hadn’t explored. There, perched on the stone bench, was a small bird with a yellow breast and black markings on its head.
“However did you get in here, little one?” Gigi exclaimed.
The bird cocked its head, then darted upward. Gigi held the candle up toward the ceiling. Squinting at the cavernous roof, she saw no sign of her feathered friend.
“Did you find the bird?” Conrad’s voice came behind her.
“Yes.” Focused on the shadowy ceiling where the bird had disappeared, she added absently, “It was a great tit.”
When silence greeted her, she twisted her head in Conrad’s direction. His lips were twitching.
“What is so amusing?” she asked.
“I believe that was my line.” Smirking, he lowered his gaze to her bosom.
The man owns half of England…and has the humor of an adolescent.
She sighed. “Don’t be crude, Godwin.”
“Back to that, are we? After what we shared, one would think we could be on more familiar terms.”
She didn’t trust herself to answer, especially when he moved close behind her. Although he made no physical contact, his virile heat kept her in a state of quivering awareness.
Now is not the time to become a ninny. Concentrate, Gigi.
“The great—the bird flew up to the ceiling, then disappeared from sight,” she told him. “It is either hiding up there…or it escaped through an opening. I am guessing the latter since the bird had to get in here somehow.”
“There must be a vent.”
Conrad held his candle next to hers. The added light revealed a rocky ledge in the ceiling about thirteen feet above the ground. If there was a vent, it was cleverly concealed.
“The opening must be hidden beyond the ledge. I think I can just fit through the space between the ledge and ceiling,” he muttered. “Once I get up there, I’ll locate the opening and get us out.”
He set down his candle, eyeing the ledge. She did her own calculations, informed by years of tree climbing. Unfortunately, she concluded that the rocky shelf was out of reach, even for him.
“It’s too high—” she began.
He crouched, his thigh muscles bulging before he jumped. His athleticism was a sight to behold. As she’d predicted, however, the destination was too far up, and he landed with a frustrated grunt.
