Page 10 of Two Secrets to Surrender (Blackwood Legacy #2)

Chapter Nine

S wiping water from his brow, Conrad glowered at Gigi with as much dignity as he could muster. Which, given the fact that he’d fallen into the damned pool, wasn’t much. God’s teeth, she was a troublesome female. He couldn’t believe that she’d attacked him. His leg throbbed like the devil; he was lucky that she hadn’t broken his shin bone. He couldn’t blame himself for being snuck up on, however. It was three in the bloody morning: no one should have been at the spa.

“Why in blazes are you here?” he growled.

“I beg your pardon. Allow me to explain.”

He instantly distrusted her honeyed manner, and her next words proved why.

“I have a key, you see, along with permission from Miss Letty to enter her premises. Can you say the same?”

Well, she had him there.

“What, precisely, is the purpose of your trespass?” she said accusingly.

She crossed her arms, and he had to admire her boldness. And her outfit. Damn, she was a sight to behold in men’s clothing. Her graceful throat rose from the open vee of her shirt, her unfettered breasts surging temptingly beneath her waistcoat. And those trousers… He swallowed. They displayed her lower half to perfection. Her hips were slim yet shapely. Her bottom looked perky and firm. Long and slender, her legs would wrap nicely around a man’s hips, and he shuddered, imagining her delicate heels digging into his arse while he plowed her.

The throbbing in his shin gave way to the hotter, stronger pulsing in his groin.

“Well?” Gigi demanded. “What do you have to say for yourself, sir?”

Oh, he had plenty he wanted to say to her. To do to her. Nonetheless, he had to get a handle on the situation. He hadn’t clawed his way up in the world to be stopped in his tracks by some little minx, no matter how alluring she was. He’d sweated and bled for his revenge, and now that he was close to getting what he wanted, he was going to get it .

One way or another, I will get what I am due. No one is going to stop me. Not even a tempting chit who is too big for her britches.

Wading to the steps, he emerged from the pool. He advanced toward Gigi, water sloshing from his coat pockets and his shoes making squishing sounds with every step. He didn’t care if he looked ridiculous. When it came to his personal qualities, determination came second only to ruthlessness, and right now he had one goal in mind.

He stopped mere inches from Gigi, stabbed a finger at her.

“I do not answer to you,” he growled.

She stood her ground. “Would you rather answer to the police? I can summon them, you know.”

“What will you tell them?” he asked acidly. “That you came to the spa alone in the middle of the night and found me here?”

Seeing the rapid flicker of her eyelashes, he realized with grim satisfaction that she was recognizing her own predicament. Compared to most well-bred misses he knew, Gigi seemed rather oblivious to her own fragility—that of her person and her reputation. Recklessness was her Achilles’ heel, and he made note of it.

“Even your papa the marquess couldn’t protect you,” he taunted. “If word got out that you were alone with me. That you met me in the dead of night, wearing trousers…”

He took a step closer, and she retreated an equal distance. What she did not do, however, was back down.

“I did not meet you here.”

While Conrad had had plenty of women scowl at him, he’d never until this moment thought a female could look adorable doing it. Yet Gigi managed to do so, probably because her face was obviously not made for anger. She had the face of a naiad: beautiful, expressive, meant for beaming joy upon the world. Her plump lips were naturally tipped up at the corners, and she had to work to pull them in the opposite direction. Even the twin furrows between her curving brows were cute.

“And what, pray tell,” she said through her perfect, if gritted, teeth, “do my trousers have to do with anything?”

“They entice me,” he said.

Her eyes widened.

He advanced, and this time she took a couple of steps back. Finally, she was understanding who was in charge of this cat-and-mouse game. He kept stalking toward her, and she kept retreating. The chase stirred his filthy desires, and he was hard before her back hit the stone relief on the wall. He planted his hands next to her shoulders. Feeling the odd shape beneath his right palm, he glanced over to see what lay beneath.

A satyr’s bearded face grinned at him. How apropos. He leaned into Gigi, so close that he could see the fire of the sconces leaping in her eyes.

“I warned you to get out of my way,” he said. “Instead, you throw yourself in my path at every opportunity. Tonight, not only do you attack me with a poker, but you do it while flaunting the prettiest legs I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“I did not throw myself at you,” she said with an annoyed huff. “I thought you were a burglar, which is a reasonable conclusion since you are dressed in black and skulking around. I was defending my friend’s property, which is why I pummeled you—quite deservedly, I might add. Finally, although it is no business of yours, the reason I am dressed this way is because my exit from my brother’s manor involved the scaling of a tree. I also made far better time riding astride than sidesaddle.”

He stared at her. “You climbed a tree?”

“Anyone can climb down,” she said airily. “It is the ascent that requires skill.”

“A skill you happen to possess?”

“I may have done it once or twice.”

Right. Her smug expression betrayed that she was an expert tree-climber. In addition to “reckless” and “naughty,” he added “daring” to her list of traits.

“A singular female, aren’t you?” he murmured.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Do not try to change the subject. We were discussing your purpose here tonight. Were you attempting to sabotage Miss Letty’s piping?”

He was more worried about his own piping. Specifically, the amount of pressure that was building up. It couldn’t be healthy for a fellow.

“I was not.”

Only because he hadn’t gotten that far. His plan this eve was to get the lay of the land—to find the spa’s weaknesses. Only after a thorough evaluation would he strategize a plan of attack. Tonight, he wouldn’t have done anything simply because he was too methodical and meticulous for such rash behavior.

“I don’t believe you,” she retorted. “I saw you with your hand down there. You were feeling around the pipes—trying to cause them to burst, no doubt.”

He shut his eyes briefly. Unfortunately, that did nothing to block out the image her words had seeded…

For the love of God, do not go there. Regain control before this situation blows up—Christ. Before it explodes in your…goddamn bloody hell .

Her scent tickled his nostrils. It was fresh, floral, and subtle, the opposite of cloying. She smelled carefree and fun, like a springtime walk through the woods.

I want to walk through her woods.

“Well, were you?” she demanded.

He tried to clear his head. Which was novel because his head was always clear…except when he was around her . Why did this chit have such an effect on him? A thought flickered in his head— Could this have something to do with drinking that damned Chuddums water? —before he firmly snuffed it.

He sent her a surly look. “Was I what?”

“Trying to cause a pipe to explode.”

That does it.

“My pipe was fine until you came along,” he growled.

She wrinkled her brow. “Your pipe? I don’t understand…”

Her huge eyes and the “o” of her lips conveyed her sudden understanding. She dipped her gaze downward. The wet wool of his trousers was plastered over the massive bar of his erection, and he could feel himself straining the seams. He’d never been harder in his life.

“Happy with yourself?” he asked darkly.

She yanked her gaze up. Even in the dimness, he saw the roses in her cheeks. Then, God help him, she wetted her lips like the naughty naiad she was, causing his arousal to border on painful.

“Enjoying your little game?” he asked.

“I’m not playing any games,” she protested.

Her denial was breathy, the feminine awareness in her eyes drawing him closer. He leaned toward her, bracing more of his weight against the relief. As he did so, he heard a click and felt something give way beneath his palm. He jerked his hand away and saw that the grinning face of the satyr had receded into the wall.

“What the devil?” he muttered.

A rumble started in the wall, and he grabbed Gigi, shoving her behind him. His muscles bunching, he watched as a section of the sculpted scene separated from the rest. It swung open like a door, releasing a puff of steam. As the mist cleared, Conrad saw that the panel had concealed a staircase that led into the bowels of the spa.

“A secret passageway,” Gigi breathed. “Just like in my dream.”

Before he could stop her, she dashed around him and down the steps.

Trembling with excitement, Gigi descended the steps of the tunnel.

My dream wasn’t a dream. It was a memory. There is something down here…something to do with Rosalinda and Thomas. Something I am meant to discover.

Feeling Godwin’s presence behind her, she flashed back to Rosalinda leading Thomas into the darkness. Was this ruthless magnate somehow part of Gigi’s destiny? She shivered at the thought. She wouldn’t trust him farther than she could toss him and yet…

And yet.

He had a powerful effect on her senses. No man had ever affected her in this manner. He was blunt, crude, and stood for everything she despised. At the same time, when his voice got growly and those emerald flames lit his eyes, everything in her responded. Everything in her melted ?—

“Stop,” Godwin commanded.

They’d reached a door.

“I will go in first,” he said.

In the flickering glow of the candle he’d had the presence of mind to bring along, his face was carved with resolve.

She lifted her brows, stepping aside. “Be my guest.”

He tried the doorknob. When it didn’t turn, she felt a rush of disappointment.

Godwin handed her the candle.

“Hold this,” he said.

Removing a pouch from his pocket, he upended it. Water gushed out (at his grimace, she hid a grin), followed by metal objects that clattered into his large palm.

“Lock picks?” She gave him a saccharine smile. “Came prepared, did you, Mr. Godwin?”

“I am always prepared.”

“Even for trespassing.”

At her jibe, he shrugged. “For anything.”

Godwin inserted the picks, and while she might be concerned about his morals (or lack thereof), she had to admire his expertise. He unlocked the door within seconds, and taking the candle from her, led the way into a small antechamber. A risqué statue of a satyr embracing a nymph stood next to a stone bench. There were hooks on the walls and two shelves stacked with what appeared to be aged toweling. When Gigi picked up one of the linens, it disintegrated, pieces fluttering to the ground.

Godwin prowled around. “What is the purpose of this place?”

“I think it is a caldarium,” Gigi said slowly.

He twisted his head to look at her. “Beg pardon?”

“A heated chamber that ancient Romans used for relaxation,” she explained. “According to Miss Letty, her great-great-grandfather had dreamed of building one. She assumed that if he had started constructing one, it had been destroyed by the fire that nearly burned the entire spa. Yet it was right here all along. Literally hidden beneath our noses.”

“This place feels more like a closet than a chamber for relaxation,” Godwin muttered. “A man can hardly move around in here.”

“Not all men are as big as you.”

“So I’ve been told.”

At his smug look, she felt her cheeks flame.

Why does he have to be so crass? As if there were any doubt about the size of his manhood. The only thing to rival it is his arrogance.

She decided to rise above. “This seems like an antechamber. Do you see any entrances that might lead into the caldarium?”

Godwin held the candle up, examining the walls.

“Here.” He pointed to a seam in the stone from which sporadic wisps of steam escaped. “But where is the mechanism to open it?”

They both looked at the statue.

“The corridor to the caldarium was revealed when I pressed on the satyr’s face,” Godwin said. “I’ll try the same with the statue.”

He pushed on the bearded visage. Gigi heard a click, then a rusty squeal. As some inner mechanism worked, there was the sound of metal grinding against metal. Slowly, in fits and starts, a section of the wall parted, revealing an inner chamber.

“The caldarium,” she breathed.

Eagerly, she raced inside. The air was warm and humid due to the round pool in the middle of the room. By some miracle, the hot springs had continued to feed the pool, steam curling from its surface. Next to the pool was a stone platform large enough to fit three or four people. The angled backrest allowed guests to recline as they soaked up the heat. Along the caldarium’s perimeter were private alcoves where bathers could relax upon benches.

Gigi did a gleeful turn, taking it all in.

“I cannot wait to show Miss Letty,” she exclaimed. “This secret caldarium will be her pièce de résistance . It will guarantee the spa’s success.”

When Conrad shot her a look, she remembered belatedly that he was her adversary. Despite their inexplicable chemistry, they were at cross purposes. Moreover, they were opposites in personality: he was callous and calculating, the least sentimental man she’d ever met. She didn’t even like him. And from his perspective, she was a silly, na?ve lady with too much time on her hands.

As he opened his mouth, probably to say something disagreeable, a screech tore through the chamber. She cringed as the sound of metal-on-metal grated across her eardrums. The next instant, the door to the caldarium slammed shut, sealing them in darkness.