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“Did you hear something, Your Grace?” asked the valet.
“Perhaps a rat in the walls?” suggested Raven.
Oh ha ha. Very funny.
“It wouldn’t be the first time, Your Grace. These drafty old Parisian houses... I do long for the day when Sir Charles will take up residence in England again.”
Indy leant forward again, daring another look.
Raven’s hand brushed his thigh. A light touch where her fingers wanted to roam. It was unbearably erotic, being enclosed in the warm, dark womb of the wardrobe and watching him tease her so shamelessly.
It was like one of her dreams.
But in her dream the valet would leave and then Raven would pull down his smalls and he’d... he’d cup himself with his hand and... pleasure himself.
Don’t imagine it. Stop that immediately.
The valet didn’t even notice anything odd. He went about his business of measuring.
Raven stared directly at the wardrobe. He knew she was watching. He trailed his fingers down over his taut abdomen, beneath the loose waistband of his smalls... exposing a trail of dark hair that led...
She was beginning to feel slightly faint. It must be all the wool. The air was too close in the wardrobe.
“I’ve taken all the measurements,” said the valet. “I’ll have your garments delivered tomorrow by mid-afternoon.”
Raven nodded and the valet left the room.
Raven moved out of eyesight. She was about to open the door when she heard Sir Charles’s deep voice.
Bollocks! The wool draped around her head and over her shoulders was making her feel like sneezing, and now she must remain completely silent.
“Did Harris see to your clothing for tomorrow?” she heard Sir Charles ask.
She peered through the keyhole but couldn’t see them. They must be near the door.
“I’ll be presentable,” Raven answered. “Let’s talk tomorrow, shall we? I’m tired.”
Raven tried to dismiss Sir Charles, but the man lingered. Indy noticed that he was slurring his words, which led her to surmise that he must be inebriated.
“You’re not turning in already, old friend?” asked Sir Charles. “You’re really no fun anymore. Come out with me. We’ll visit a certain establishment I know will restore your vigor.”
“You go. I need my beauty rest.”
The voices faded as if Raven had led Sir Charles out of the room. Now was her chance to escape. There was very little air in this tiny space with coats and hung all around.
She tried to open the door of the wardrobe but it wouldn’t budge. Must not be able to open it from the inside. She’d have to wait for Raven.
No, she never waited for anyone. She could find a way out of this predicament. Raven might have trouble convincing Sir Charles to leave and she needed more air.
She worked a few of her metal hairpins loose from her coiffure. She’d read about how one might be able to open a lock with a hairpin.
She wiggled the hairpin around in the lock and the only thing that happened was that the end broke off. Finding a few more hairpins, she put them together to make something thicker and jiggled the end around.
Something was happening. The end of the hairpin caught a piece of the lock and she heard a promising click. If she could only... push a little harder. The lock finally released.
She tested the door. It moved a little. Placing her entire shoulder against it she heaved with all her might and... tumbled directly into Raven’s arms.
He must have opened the door from the outside at the same time she was pushing against it.
