trying to tempt the parakeet with a piece of apple.
âCome on, Greenie, I have a bit of apple for you. Happy day. Happy day. Happy day.â
The bird tried to reach for the apple, but she pulled it away, thereby demonstrating that she knew nothing at all about training birds. Specific treats should be tied to the phrase. Therefore, the creature ought to be stuffed on apple right now as she kept repeating âHappy day.â
He began to think he would likely win this wager. Which made it unfortunate that he had little interest in their wager one way or the other. Heâd come here for an entirely different purpose.
Still, that didnât stop him from appreciating how her body twitched with her frustration. She was an animated woman with a nice bum, neatly outlined as she leaned over the table and tried to entice the creature. Given that he was built on a large scale, he liked a woman with curves.
Mari was a woman of middling height, perfect complexion, and bright amber eyes. Her breasts were lush, her hips tempting, and her lips were on the proper side of sinfully dark. But mostly, she was alive in his mind in a way that no other woman ever approached. And right now, she was dropping into a nearby chair, clearly at odds with the world.
âYouâre an awful bird, and I hate this game,â she grumbled.
He was too amused by her to realize his mistake until it was too late. With Miss Powel in a chair, the bird could see him. And right on cue, the creature greeted him.
âWinner, winner!â
Peter grinned at the bird and crossed into the room. âGood morning, Greenie.â A simplistic, stupid name for such an intelligent bird. âMiss Powel.â
He tried not to notice how sheâd leapt from her chair, her bosom jiggling and her color deepening to a delightful rose.
âLord Whitly!â Shock and horror on her face. âWhat are you doing here?â
âI believe your hour is up, Miss Powel.â He gestured with one hand to the mantel clock. With the other, he fed the creature a bit of carrot, which was greedily consumed. âGood bird.â
âOh,â she said as she obviously took in the time. âNevertheless, you should have announced yourself.â
âIâm sorry if I startled you,â he said, but she suddenly gasped and clenched her fists.
âAnd now you know my phrase!â
He leaned against the table, wondering why she chose to wear such an insipid shade of pink. It was so dull, even the matching ribbon looked bored.
âI knew it before,â he said, âso thereâs no harm done there.â
âYou couldnât possibly.â
He nodded as he looked at her hair. Sheâd done it up into a tight bun that pulled her skin flat across her forehead. Bloody painful to look at. He wondered why she didnât have a headache.
Meanwhile, he answered her unspoken question. âYou didnât shade your mouth when you whispered it to Lady Illston. I could read it off your lips.â
She gaped at him, her hand going to her mouth. Pity to cover up one of her best features. âThatâs not possible,â she said.
âI assure you, it is.â And when she simply shook her head, he allowed himself to revel in one of his fondest memories from his childhood. âI had a playmate as a boy. His father worked at the stable, and we often ran off together to explore. Then one year, he took a fever. An ugly disease, but he survived. Except he was deaf from then on.â
âWinner, winner!â the bird cried.
âGreedy thing,â he said as he passed the creature more carrot.
âHe could read language off a personâs lips? How extraordinary.â
âHe was much better at it than I, for obvious reasons, but we learned it together. And I kept up the knack becauseâ¦â He shrugged. âI suppose I donât like it when people keep secrets from me.â
âBut thatâs