Adam forced himself to turn away with an irritated grumble.“Right.”
He faced the door, readied himself, and lashed out with a furious kick.
The door didn’t budge.
“Ow!”Adam bit out, hopping uncomfortably.“Ow ow ow ow…”
“What’s wrong?”Ellie demanded, hurrying over to him.
“Damned thing’s bolted!Who puts a deadbolt on a goddamned broom closet?”
“Are you hurt?”Ellie pressed.
“These shoes are useless for kicking things,” Adam complained.
He kicked off the polished dress brogues in question, throwing his socks after them—which had the effect of making him look even more bloody enticing.
Ellie forced her attention back to the room before she gave in to the urge to pull him down onto the floor.An intriguing idea bloomed to life at the sight of the racks of cleaning supplies.“Do you know—I am quite certain that some of these compounds can be combined to create a little explosion.”
“Princess…” Adam warned.
“How else do you propose we get out of here?”Ellie challenged.
Adam yanked on a cord dangling from the ceiling.A trap door fell open.
Ellie stared at the black mouth it revealed.“What’s up there?”
“I’m guessing the attic.”
Ellie uneasily recalled the swirling black forms they had seen by the gable outside.“Didn’t it look as though there were bats roosting up there?”
“Little bats,” Adam assured her.“Perfectly nice ones.Nothing like the last bunch.And if they’re up there, that means there’s a vent we could kick out and crawl through.You go first.”
Ellie eyed the trapdoor dubiously.“Must I?”
“It’s easier for me to boost you up than haul you in,” Adam pointed out.
Ellie considered what having Adam boost her through the trapdoor was likely to involve.Her cheeks heated again—along with a few other places.
The pleasant promise of that fizzled against the far less enticing notion of climbing into a bat-infested attic.
Adam flipped over a bucket, setting it down as a step, and extended his palm.“M’lady?”he offered with mock gentility.
“Oh, fine,” Ellie conceded, tugging up her skirts and giving him her hand.
?
SEVEN
Ice tumbled intococktail glasses and balls bounced softly against green baize as Neil Fairfax watched Constance work her ruthless charm.
They had landed among the club’s ‘flash set,’ elegant younger people who were avidly curious about the new arrivals.Neil couldn’t help but be awed by how easily Constance disarmed them—even as he caught the odd glance snagging on the warm brown of Constance’s complexion.
Let one of them mention it,Neil thought, his hands flexing at his sides.Just one of them.
He caught himself.What was he doing?He wasn’t a fighter.That was Adam’s role.Neil avoided fights.He liked things calm and predictable.So why was he daydreaming about the looks on the faces of these laughing, careless people if he flipped over their table?
Because he was wildly, ferociously angry.The notion that someone might try to hurt Constance simply because of who her grandmother happened to be unleashed a part of Neil that he hadn’t known was there.
