The Reinvented Miss Bluebeard (London Paranormal 03) (19 page)

Yes, it was bizarre that he should find himself quite comfortably entertained and content in a lunatic asylum, but so be it. Fate was a fickle mistress, with a highly developed sense of the absurd. But he truly liked many of the people he had met. He regretted the fact that he would have to double-cross Captain Bluebeard—being both a man of common sense and honor—but there was no hope for it. Once a Hawkmore male found his mate, nothing stood in his way—not even a cutthroat pirate like the captain.

He looked his fill. The softness of the lantern light accented the beauty of Eve's heart-shaped face. It set the reddish highlights aflame. She appeared some pagan fairy princess come to earth in the dark hours before dawn, and if he had some fairy dust on hand then her anger and distrust would vanish before he could snap his fingers. Sadly, there was never a true fairy around when a person needed one, for they were a secretive and elusive lot.

Adam strolled over and sat down next to her. Once seated, he pressed his luck by moving his long, muscular leg next to hers on the marble stone bench.

"What are you doing, stalking me like a shadow? I didn't ask you to sit down," she complained haughtily. "And tell me that's not your thigh crowding mine."

Her rudeness didn't bother him; he had been insulted too many times to count in his past misadventures. So he said, "What refreshing candor. But it leads me to believe that you have a fear yourself, Doctor." He stroked his bottom lip.

"What utter nonsense. What fear?"

"The fear of intimacy."

"How ridiculous," she scoffed, then quickly added, "Move your leg; it's too close."

He laughed at her discomposure as Mrs. Fawlty strolled up, Teeter at her side. "Ah, young love," the housekeeper said. "So fine and so lusty." She gave both Adam and Eve a crooked grin. "Are ye up to something naughty, Dr. Adam?"

"Oh, indeed," he replied with roguish intent, the dimple in his cheeks showing. "A doctor does what he must, and a husband—well, his work is
never
done."

"That's a fine thing. You're right back where you belong—in yer wife's bed. Ye'd best stay there."

"Wild werewolves couldn't keep me away," Adam promised. "For no other woman can compare."

Mrs. Fawlty nodded happily. "See that you keep him, Dr. Eve. Them wicked foreign women know things, so you'd better keep on your toes. German women are some of the best cardplayers—especially when they play without clothes. Frenchwomen are the best kissers. Now, you take them Russians? They fair heat up the sheets, so I'm giving ye some advice me old ma gave me, Dr. Eve. Don't go to bed mad, or any other place. And you might try kissing a bit more. Men like that, ye know."

Hearing a stifled chuckle beside her, Eve elbowed Adam discreetly in the ribs. As the older couple strolled away she said; "Don't you dare laugh."

"Do you think I'd laugh at you? Laugh
with
you, definitely, but not at you. And don't worry about Mrs. Fawlty's comments. Those wicked foreign women didn't tempt me when I was in Transylvania. I was faithful to you, my darling. My marriage vows were never broken."

Her eyes narrowed. "What utter rot," she replied.

"I dreamed about you last night. And I know I will again tonight," he said. "You are temptation itself."

"And you're full of blarney. Just like Fester. Don't think I don't know that," she answered. He was a charming liar, but a liar nonetheless. Yet he held a fascination for her rather like a rabbit did for a snake. He was an enigma, complex and capable. He also had expertise in using his good looks and husky laugh to best advantage.

But no, he was the enemy and a puppet in her father's plan. She would not be locked into any marriage, even with a man as attractive and intriguing as this.

"It's the truth, I'm telling you. You could drive me mad quite easily—mad about you, mad for you, mad without you, and mad that I hadn't met you sooner."

In spite of her many misgivings, Eve had to admit Adam appeared to fit in well here. It was as if he'd lived at the Towers for years. She frowned discouragingly, hoping he would leave her be.

He leaned back negligently, studying her, his face highlighted by lanterns and the moon. "Do you know how pretty you are when you smile? But I bet I haven't seen you smile more than twice since I've been here."

His words took her aback. "I'm a psychiatrist."

"Psychiatrists don't smile?" Adam asked with an amused expression. "Or laugh? Is that the hippocrytical oath?"

"Hippocratic. And of course they smile… we smile. But sometimes one forgets. After all, psychiatry is a serious business. When a doctor loses a patient, he loses a life, but when I lose a patient he loses his mind—and that's a terrible thing to waste," she said. "My patients end up living in total mental darkness, and sometimes in total fear. They feel guilty, sad, angry… Most know they aren't normal, and that is a heavy burden to bear."

Adam cocked his head to one side, pleased. Eve was finally opening up to him. "I always thought normal was just a varying degree of insanity. Is anyone truly normal? Can we define it?"

Eve glanced at Adam, surprised to find herself explaining about her work. But his expression was very focused, and she knew that he was listening—really listening—unlike most people she knew. "I think some are more normal—or what society would term normal—than others. Sometimes the sane can become crazy, it is true, but the truly insane live in reverse—with their madness a daily habit and lucidity found in flashes. The shadows and mist that fog their minds are so difficult to discover… I often feel like I'm sailing a ghost ship into uncharted waters. Somehow I must lift that fog in spite of the difficulties, and help my patients find themselves."

Her sincerity touched Adam in a place that had grown jaded by years of living to survive, years with women who had fornication on their minds while cheating on their spouses or lovers, or making a few coins. This petite woman in front of him was different, as his mother had been. When these women devoted themselves to a cause, it was completely.

"Do you know, Eve Bluebeard Griffin, that you are an admirable woman? A woman who knows her own mind and her strength. And best of all, you share yourself with those around you. In today's modern world, a woman still has to struggle with great obstacles to achieve her aims. You do. This same strength you bring to your patients. So, never fear you won't succeed, because I believe that you always will."

Eve didn't know how to take the compliment. Was Adam teasing her, mocking her, trying to flatter her into the bedroom? She'd be a fool twice over if she didn't notice the heated looks he had been giving her all evening. Actually, they'd been scorching looks, as they'd been since she first met him.

Ruthlessly she crushed all feelings of warmth for Adam. She would not be taken in by his manly charms. Adam was turning out to be many things, some quite opposing. He was bad, he was good, a pirate and a prince. He was a schemer, yet he had his own code of honor. He'd revealed a sharp wit along with a deceitful nature, but his words were often tempered with tenderness and generosity. "My father disagrees. He feels I'm wasting my life on land."

"Captain Bluebeard sails uncharted seas, so why shouldn't you sail into the minds of your patients?" Adam asked.

"The Captain wants me at sea," Eve remarked gloomily.

"But he wants grandkids more. Trust me. Give him a few, and see how his tune changes," he added.

Leaning closer, he grinned, his dimples becoming more prominent. Picking up her hand, he kissed it slowly, letting her see the fires of passion in his eyes. She felt her breath quickening at his close proximity and heated stare.

Adam's grin deepened as he noted Eve's reaction to his nearness. She might be difficult and carry more portmanteaus than the royal family, yet in spite of her faults she was a fitting daughter for the Captain, and a fine wife for himself. She would make strong babies—
his
babies. "I gallantly place myself in your hands to be of service," he said, "for the servicing." He couldn't resist teasing.

"Oh, you wretch," she began, and yanked her hand away.

"Oh, no, you don't," Adam said. He snatched her hand back. A flash of resentment filled him at her judgmental tone. Tapping the ornate gold band on her finger, he subtly reminded her just with whom she was dealing.

She opened her mouth to protest, so he leaned down to kiss her senseless. His lips met hers with a fierce possession, hot and demanding.

Adam's kiss, Eve saw, was different from that of the black-hearted Hook. Adam smelled regrettably delicious, and unknowingly she had been lonely for just this—the touch of a lover, strong fingers caressing and worshiping her, kisses that made her forget all her troubles. These kisses doused her anger and sent her emotions swirling like the wide Sargasso Sea. She felt entirely right in his arms. In fact, she felt perfect, as if she had been designed for him alone.

At first Eve fought, shoving at his shoulders and keeping her lips closed to his passionate assault. But now she relaxed a bit, and Adam gentled their kiss, slipping his tongue into her mouth. She was so soft and fragrant in his arms, and her lips were hot and sweet. He hadn't lied to her or tried to charm her when he told her that he was mad for her. His senses were crazy for her taste and feel. She called to him on such a primitive level that he felt like running away with her, ignoring all and sundry for one night in her arms.

For Eve, disaster had struck in the form of these eminently kissable lips. Her blood began to hum as the world faded. Strangely, she felt herself growing breathless, the kiss drawing her inward. It was a bold journey into swirling emotions and liquid-hot feelings. She was tumbling head over heels, awash with passion. Gathering her willpower, she tried to halt her treacherous emotions, but that was as useless as trying to stop waves crashing upon the shore.

Instead of cursing the liberties he was taking, Eve now nestled closer, pressing her bosom against his rock-hard chest. His lips were hot, demanding, and oh, so sweet, with a hint of wild cherries. He was all male, predatory as his hand began to pick the pins loose from her hair, letting the thick, shoulder-length waves fall free. His other hand moved down her back to mold the tops of her buttocks. He groaned. So did she.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Eve knew she should be outraged. Instead, she felt the place between her thighs grow wet with need. She felt a hunger in her stomach, and lower an ache that was bittersweet, needy, all clamoring senses urging her to mate. It was disturbing and earth-shakingly potent.

She clasped Adam's back harder, dimly aware that his kisses were dangerous as opium. He could become an obsession, with her appetite only whetted by his attentions, growing greater in need, she realized with dismay.

Warning bells began to ring in her mind. Or were they really ringing? Reality had returned in a rush, and Eve pushed Adam away.

He glanced at her, his eyes still hot with unrequited passion yet a touch of confusion. He had kissed many a female, but never had one rung his bell quite so literally.

"What's with all that ding-donging?" he asked, his arousal aching and feeling quite neglected.

"Hugo, the demented dwarf," she replied, her eyes trying to focus past the fog of sensuality in which she was drifting. She took a step back and threw a quick left hook that Captain Kidd had once taught her.

Adam caught it square on the nose. Holding his face, he glared at her. "I should put you over my knee! You enjoyed that!"

Before she could reply, some of her patients began to come undone at the pealing of the bells. The bonging in the cool night air caused Major Gallant to bow once, then charge up the terrace stairs with an imaginary sword in hand, yelling in his faux French accent, "They're blowing the bugle. Charge, men, charge! We can't let those Englishmen win the bridge!"

Not far behind, Mrs. Fawlty was bringing up the rear. She chased down the major, who was heading straight for the bell tower. The harassed housekeeper merely scowled, saying as she passed, "Sure to be, your name's Dr. Adam and hers is Dr. Eve. But I tell you true, this ain't the Garden of Eden."

Eve picked up her skirts to hurry after them.

Eve scowled as she hurried toward the bell tower and the batty dwarf in the belfry. Adam had sprung up as well, and caught up to her, while Mrs. Fawlty, ever the busybody, tackled the major. Teeter, who was following fast on the housekeeper's heels, stumbled over the pair, and the patients and staff cheered them all on to the accompaniment of the bells.

"It's a good thing your loony bin is located in the country, more or less, since town neighbors would be up in arms over this ringing at all bloody hours of the day and night," Adam panted as they ran.

Eve remained silent. This husband-and-wife deal was for the birds.

"Why does Hugo feel the need to ring bells constantly?" Adam asked.

"Besides the fact that he's insane?" Eve snapped.

"Besides that."

She reluctantly explained: "The monks in the monastery where he grew up were busy with other duties, so Hugo spent much of his time as the bellboy. With his deformity and surly temperament, he ended up a crotchety, hunchbacked dwarf. His mother spoiled him, giving him everything he wanted while she was alive. Therefore, Hugo feels as if the world owes him, and he rings the bell to call attention to that."

As they passed the massive fountain, Mrs. Monkfort waved, then returned to her thorough cleaning of the statues. Mr. Pryce was rubbing his legs together behind Mrs. Monkfort's back.

"Hugo can be charming upon rare occasions, but he is mean-spirited when he doesn't get his way. He even cheats."

"Cheats?" Adam asked, glancing back and seeing Mrs. Monkfort drop her sponge as Mr. Pryce buzzed her. This tickled Adam's funny bone, and he found himself chuckling.

Eve narrowed her eyes at him. "Cheating, like any dishonesty, is never a laughing matter."

"I apologize. Please continue," he said with a playful grin.

Eve's eyes narrowed further, for his handsome face appeared even more devastating in the faint moonlight. "You do know, Adam, that I'm not some dim-witted debutante looking for a husband, nor some loose-skirted floozy searching for a tricky, tempting rake?"