The Reinvented Miss Bluebeard (London Paranormal 03) (23 page)

"Your mother sounds like she was a remarkable woman," Eve said.

"Yes. She was one of the best of ladies. And she knew that love is not bestowed on the basis of merit or wealth. Love endures."

Eve took a few steps closer and placed her hand upon Adam's chest—her first really spontaneous gesture toward him.

Adam responded by leaning forward to kiss her lush lips. He felt desire swamp him, as much as when he was a lad of fourteen and had been given his first real kiss by a lusty milkmaid. A grand and glorious tupping had followed, and Adam was still known to look appreciatively at a mug of milk.

He groaned in anticipation as Eve abandoned her reserve, clutching his jacket and pulling him hard against her, fiercely kissing him back. For once, they were two minds meeting in perfect accord under a star-filled night in a garden of paradise and pleasures.

He began to deepen their kiss when he found them interrupted by a loud, obnoxious laugh.

"Why, you sly boots! Lassie, what are you doing out here in the dark corners of Vauxhall, kissing yer husband like any common wench?" Captain Bluebeard asked with a wry grin.

Both Eve and Adam drew back, Eve with chagrin, Adam with annoyance.

Repressing the urge to curse a blue streak, Adam clamped his teeth together and tried to ease the ache in his groin. The next time he attempted seduction, he would definitely plan more cautiously. He certainly couldn't call her father out for protecting Eve. And he currently wasn't foolish enough to do it, since the Captain was known to be expert with both pistol and cutlass.

"Father, what are you doing here?" Eve gasped, watching her father's swagger. Unhappily, he was with one of his more unsavory boon companions. She'd wanted to groan out loud when she recognized the rat. His hair was black and unruly. He had one beady eye—a very dark brown one, the color of sooty walnut—and a black eye patch on the other. His lips were rather sensual, but he had a long blade of a nose with an arched ridge.

"Hook." Eve gave a curt nod, her facial features tightening, and without really thinking she reached out her hand to find Adam's, giving him a speaking glance as Hook took her other hand and raised it to his lips.

"Eve, the gods must be smiling on me to find you here tonight. You look enchanting, as always." Lowering his lips Hook softly caressed her hand. He lingered a bit too long, his one good eye lit with desire as his nostrils flared.

Jerking back her hand, Eve found herself suddenly quite tired of men slobbering all over it. Wrinkling her nose, she addressed the pirate captain by his first name: "Ben." The word was said with an obvious lack of courtesy.

Adam protectively circled Eve's waist with his arm, sending a challenging glare at the one-handed buccaneer. "I'm Adam Griffin. Dr. Adam Griffin. Eve's husband." His last two words were not only possessive; they were clearly a threat. Hook was said to be ruthless in getting what he wanted. His crews were the dregs of the rodent world, a scurvy sort made up of full-blooded wererats and wereweasels. So Adam's hackles rose along with his combative instinct.

Hook sent a malicious look at Adam, then stepped back, his one good hand clenching into a fist. His one good eye was shimmering with malice. "Ah, the missing husband. The husband who left his wife alone for, what—more than two years, isn't it? How smitten by her charms you must be."

Answering the verbal insult with an arrogant tilt of his head, Adam smiled grimly. "Grave responsibilities kept me from my beloved. But now, I'm here and I'm staying," he warned.

"How unfortunate," Hook snarled, his sharp teeth glistening. "Most unlucky. You see, I've been at sea the past two years, but I too am back. His words were a challenge I've missed you, my Eve. I've thought of you often."

"I've not thought of you," she replied, glad for once to have a husband by her side, pretend or otherwise. "And with Adam's return, I have been happily involved."

Captain Bluebeard watched silently, a thick dark brow cocked, his eyes fairly dancing with delight. Resolutely he managed to remain quiet—not an easy feat for one of his nature. His plan was working wondrously. Eve, in spite of her fierce independence, was clinging to her husband, while the great pretender was not pretending at possessiveness.

Yes, Bluebeard nodded to himself, all was going according to plan. The young privateer was a good man to have for a pirating and drinking mate—and even better as a son-in-law. Hook was a ruthless foe, a man after Bluebeard's own heart, but he was too wild and too much a womanizer to be wedded to his daughter. Evie needed a man who would understand her mind and cherish it, and who would let her dictate to him some of the time. Well, Bluebeard thought, most of the time. Hook would never be that man; his temperament too fierce, his nature too domineering, and his fidelity too doubtful. Adam however, would.

"Adam, me boy, 'tis good to see ye again. How is married life treating ye?" he asked in his booming voice. "With the grin on your face, I am guessing ye aren't feeling leg-shackled."

"How could it be anything but perfection with an enchantress like Eve for a wife?" the young pirate replied, caressing Eve's shoulder. "How fortunate that I was able to claim a wife like my Eve. She is everything I ever wanted in a woman, and she's mine alone. Beware, Captain Hook, I'm an ill bird for plucking."

Captain Bluebeard ignored the tension between the two men, threw back his head, and laughed. "Never thought I'd see the day when me own daughter was brought to heel. Love does work wonders."

"Why are you here, Da?" Eve asked, glaring at her father.

"Me and Hook were just in the neighborhood. Course, it took us three fancy carriages to get here," he added with a chortle.

Eve was not amused.

"Come, Ben, me boy," he coaxed, grabbing the other captain's arm. "I know when I'm not wanted. Let's leave the lovebirds to their nest."

His words caused Eve to grimace, while Adam grinned wickedly, which caused Hook to mutter a curse.

Hook gave Adam the evil eye—an eye as dark and foreboding as the heavens above. "This isn't over by a long shot. I saw her first, when she was barely a girl of fourteen. Even then she was a temptress, with her glorious hair and those lips red as apples. I knew then she would one day be my own."

"Over my dead body," Adam responded. Deadly menace was written across his features.

"Exactly," Hook replied, his voice hard. He raised his gold hook to gesture. "Exactly my point."

Before a challenge could be issued and a duel set up, Bluebeard threw a heavy arm around Hook and began dragging him away. Both Adam and Eve watched silently, half-listening to Bluebeard's chastising. A few threats for Hook were thrown in as well, threats to leave his favorite son-in-law—his only son-in-law—alone.

Eve stamped her foot. "Oh, how I despise that great hooked lout! I would dance a pirate jig if he'd be lost at sea! The man is a nodcock of the first degree if he thinks I'd ever marry him. I wouldn't have him on a solid gold platter—a
hundred
platters."

Watching her stomp her foot in ire, Adam could only be glad that this time Eve's temper wasn't directed at him. Still, she was a beauty. "How fortunate for you that you can't marry him, because, my dear, sweet wife, you're married to me."
And, by God, you're going to stay married to me
.

Before she could say the usual words of outraged protest, he grabbed her and kissed her silly. He was going to tame this woman or die trying.

Her breath coming in spurts, Eve looked up at Adam, her blue eyes afire with passion. "This can't be happening," she said. She needed to refute him, to rout him, to rattle him—even to riposte him—but not stand here and let him drive her senses mad. His nearness and his hot, sweet kisses made her toes curl to such a degree that she was in danger of tearing her slippers.

"Oh, my love, it is," he replied, stroking a curl that had come loose from her topknot. "Your hair is like a burst of flame flickering about your soft cheek. Such lovely hair. It begs me to free it." So saying, he snatched the pins from her hair while she stood there stupidly.

"I prefer it loose," he continued. "You'll have to wear it that way in our bedchamber." And without further ado, he kissed her again, a kiss that was fierce with need.

Her scent was so tantalizing: a blend of fresh spring breezes, with the heady scent of gardenias mixed in. Her firm breasts pressed against his chest, making him want to rip off her bodice and suckle to his heart's content.

Again, Eve found herself responding to the passionate possessiveness of Adam's kiss. Her heart beat wildly. It was more than obvious that the scoundrel wanted her, but there was more to his touch than mere seduction. When he wrapped her in his arms, she felt a tender regard. His eyes were large and expressive. They revealed a need for her, and admiration. She felt her universe shift, as if the moon were eclipsed and the earth shook. Adam truly did care for her.

So, he was more than fond of her, but how did she feel about him? His touch sent her senses scrambling, and when she looked into that gleam of unbridled passion in his eyes, she felt desired and special. She loved that. But was this only desire? No. She knew now that, in spite of his teasing ways, she liked Adam, really liked him.

Eve's passionate response to his desire was temptation itself, causing Adam's hands to begin a quest. As he trapped her firm breasts beneath his palms, she gasped and he smiled against her mouth. His wordy wife was a hot handful, and she was his forever, even if she didn't know it yet. Perhaps tonight was the night she would learn.

Tugging down the neckline of her gown, he kissed his way across her silken chest and began to feast on her ripe breasts, the nipples puckering under his assault. He drew back for a scant few seconds to appraise her bounty. Her breasts were softer than the back of a baby duck, and the nipples like plump raspberries.

Adam's tugging on her nipples aroused her desire, and Eve loosed a heartfelt groan. She was burning up inside. How could she even think when his elegant fingers were doing such magic? Her back arched, and the place between her thighs was aching. She had never felt like this. "Oh, Adam…"

Eve's arching her back cast her more in the lantern light, and Adam lifted his head and stared down at the firm orbs that had been plaguing his dreams at night. They were as perfect as he had dreamed, all white flesh and deep coral nipples. Underneath those breasts her lacy white slip had bunched, causing the breasts to plump together. Adam sighed lustily. She was his for the taking, and he would take her again and again until he had her with child. Then she would truly be his, he reasoned dazedly. Captain Bluebeard could not object nor expect him to disappear into deathly obscurity if he had fathered a child with Eve.

She moaned, and Adam tugged on her lacy slip, trying to pull it lower. "Lovely. You're beyond beautiful, my dear." He tugged harder on the slip.

Ever practical, even in a dense fog of passion, Eve knew she needed to protest. Breathing rapidly, she gasped, "Careful, or else you'll tear it, and it's too costly too replace. It's one of Mrs. Freud's."

"Ah, a Freudian slip," he growled. He had heard of this from a courtesan or two: that Mrs. Freud from Bavaria was the most sought-after undergarment maker for the ton. She was also the costliest. "I'll buy you another—ten others."

Those words were like throwing cold water upon Eve. This time her gasp was not passion-induced. "With my father's gold."

Adam's lust had slowed his brain to a dull plod. "Of course," he replied, continuing to cover her neck and breasts with tiny nibbling bites. She was the queen of all temptation, his Eve. "I'll buy you a hundred of Mrs. Freud's slips," he remarked fervently.

Eve seethed, her passion turning to anger. Adam would buy her costly slips when the Towers might be closing down?
What an idiot
! She shoved him away. "You're nothing but a rapscallion and a rogue."

"And you are a tasty handful," he responded, his eyes glittering in the moonlight.

Adjusting her gown and costly slip, and stepping back, she glared at him, noting that once again she had failed to discourage him. Just what did it take? He was like some craggy mountain peak: always there, a force of nature to be reckoned with.

He took two steps forward, advancing on her, his erection more than apparent from the tight fit of his trousers. He ached from unspent passion and wasn't ready to admit defeat. However, he readily admitted he was a fool for having mentioned money. Eve desperately needed funding for her asylum, and he, beset by lust, had stupidly reminded her of the treasure from her father.

Momentarily, he thought about lying as he stared at her passion-plumped lips and her slightly askew décolleté. He could tell her that the chest her father gave him was now hers. Except the chest now held only a few precious stones, the rest having long been sent to Ireland to buy back the old family estate. Besides, he wanted Eve to love him for himself, not for wealth. He was just arrogant enough to want Eve to want him because he was the only man for her, the only man who would love her forever, warts, Hooks, lunatics, and all.

"You have absolutely no scruples," she accused.

"I have scruples coming out my ears. Just none where seducing my wife is concerned. And now, having seen the bounty that awaits, I don't know how I'll survive without tasting you further." He sighed. "And you desire me too, Eve. You can't deny it."

She gave him a look as she walked off, clearly affronted.

The next day found Eve anxiously waiting to hear from either Frederick or Dr. Victor Frankenstein. At noon she received a note from the doctor telling her that he'd sent out some of his servants to try to find his adopted son. Dr. Frankenstein had admitted that sometimes Frederick got a screw loose, especially when he was drinking. He feared that, after such an embarrassment, Frederick would most likely go to some of his favorite taverns, and was probably dipping into his cups rather heavily.

Noting Eve's distraction, Adam had volunteered to go out and search Frederick's favorite haunts. He still wasn't back, and neither had she heard from Frederick.