The Reinvented Miss Bluebeard (London Paranormal 03) (27 page)

As Collins sidled forward to pour her more wine, she pondered this marvelously scary feeling, and what would happen if love blossomed full force. Adam was an adventurer, an ex-privateer. If he got the urge to wander again, what would she do? What
could
she do? If he chose to someday leave her, whom would she tease about digging holes with Fester? Who was brave enough or foolish enough to dance and sing in the rain with frogs and Frankensteins? Who would wink at her over Mrs. Monkfort's shoulder? And how in the world would she live without Adam's impassioned kisses? Yet an adventurer was an adventurer, and prone to wander. She had to beware.

Adam choked back laughter. His wife's glances were quite different now from when he'd first arrived. Thank goodness he had always been difficult to discourage. She was everything he could have hoped for in a mate—a feisty little autocrat, yet tenderly concerned with her patients. She was a kind commander, but also managed to be firm. Coming to know her had been one of the high points in his life. He had formed a great respect for her accomplishments. She had become a psychiatrist at a time when most women were content to be put upon a pedestal and endlessly admired and feted for their great beauty. Not Eve.

It was beyond strange, Adam thought, that as lovely as she was, Eve was one of the least vain women he had ever met. It was due, he reasoned, to the fact that most of her time was taken up with helping others—which had ironically made her even more beautiful.

Her kind nature had actually worked against him recently, as she'd been tending to her patients. But he had a battle plan. Eve was a Bluebeard: deny her something she wanted and she would fight to the death to get it. She wanted him, and was just now beginning to realize it. His feigned disinterest should drive her mad with desire, and by the look in her eyes it was working. He was more than relieved, not knowing if his passion for her could go another unrequited night.

Pavlov concentrated on the cherries jubilee, but Adam sipped his wine, leaning back in his rose brocade chair. His eyes fixed firmly on Eve. His grand battle plan would come to an end tonight; it had been decided when she walked into the room in all her glory. She was ripe for the plucking. He would have her in bed and on his body or beneath his body, crying out in ecstasy. Theirs would be an earth-shaking release. Tonight he would get his cock in a position to be envied.

Her husband's heated eyes burned into her, causing Eve to blush. Flustered, she glanced at the grandfather clock on the wall. "We have an hour to reach the Scientific Museum of Supernatural Studies," she said. "Dr. Sigmund's lecture starts then. We can't be late."

"
Absolument
. Dr. Sigmund would have your head, Dr. Eve. He hates tardiness," Pavlov agreed. "My friend will arrive soon to take me with him. I dare not be late either. Those troll eyes of Dr. Sigmund's can be intimidating when burning with anger."

Adam grimaced. "I know we are engaged to attend, but I must confess that I hope this lecture isn't on chamber pots."

Eve sighed. "Since he is the head of the funding committee, I can't risk not attending." She added with a conspiratorial smile, "However, I feel we are both in luck. Tonight his lecture is not about chamber pots. He and Dr. Hartley will be discussing the treatment of bizarre behaviors of the chaos-ridden mind. Also, there's something about some werewolves named Petersen and Borden, and how multiple personalities can manifest with lycanthropy."

"Sounds riveting," Adam replied. But still. What could a troll really know about a werewolf?

"Fraud. I thought you
enjoyed
playing doctor," Eve said—so softly that Pavlov wouldn't hear, her teasing words fraught with fondness.

This, Adam understood, was a good sign. Eve was coming to value his talents, and to trust him. Both qualities he felt were essential in a truly harmonious and loving marriage.

Leaning toward her, he tenderly lifted her hand to his mouth and stared with heavy-lidded eyes into hers. "With you there, my dear, it will be highly entertaining. If nothing else I can absorb your beauty. Besides, I live in hope that Dr. Sigmund will mention his rooster theory again, as I do find that quite interesting. Perhaps you and I might discuss the applications of it later." Yes, from the look in her eyes, she was ripe for the plucking. And once Eve was plucked, they could settle down and nest for life. By thunder, how he loved her, even with her lair of lunatics.

Eve stifled a groan and felt another blush flushing her cheeks. Adam was such a little devil when he wanted to be.

Pavlov, missing the undercurrents of sexual tension, remarked thoughtfully, "
Oui
, I've taken several of his classes. His barnyard begrudgement is a more recent theory, however, and I feel that it is not that impressive. I believe my behavior patterning will someday overshadow it. Everyone will know of my bells. Still, I am interested in his theories on multiple personalities. I've always felt that shifting from animal to human form must take a toll on the psyche. So many werecreatures are insane."

Adam studied Eve's assistant, then turned back to her. "Do you agree?" he asked. "Do you think that all werecreatures are likely to be demented?" He didn't believe she felt that way, but he needed to know. He had thought to reveal his paranormal nature tonight, after they made love. But if she thought shape-shifters were basically unstable, he might think more about his confession first.

"Of course not," she replied, cocking a brow at her assistant. "Really, Pavlov, I've told you that your theory of rampant insanity among werecreatures is a fallacy—with the exception of wererats. I've always felt that they are a bit off balance."

Adam grinned, remarking, "Probably because of their tiny little feet." He knew she was talking about Captain Hook.

Pavlov looked surprised, then joined in Eve's laughter.

A loud noise shattered their mirth as bells began to toll, their loud peals filling the air. In unison, all three turned toward the huge stained-glass window, and they stared out at the bell tower. In unison, all three growled, "Hugo."

The bells continued to ring, and Pavlov's obese dog came flying through the dining room doors. With practiced ease he leaped onto the brocade chair next to his master. His expression was blissful, his speckled tongue hanging out, and he waited to be fed, panting and wriggling. Pavlov had trained him perhaps too well.

"This is
folie
—madness! It's a disaster," Pavlov cried, patting his mutt's head. "Once again, my beloved dog answers the call of the bells—just what I wanted when I began my behavior patterning. But with that
fou
Hugo ringing bells at all times of the night and day,
mon chien
is becoming un cheval!" Junger just whined.

Suddenly, the doors to the kitchens slammed open and Teeter lurched into the room. "You rang, Dr. Eve?"

Adam's bark of laughter could be heard over the bells. "God, I love this place."

Several hours later found Adam and Eve listening to Dr. Sigmund's lecture, which was now coming to a close. Eve glanced around at the wash of present faces. They were many and varied, but then, the older psychiatrist had always commanded great respect. Beside her she felt Adam's restlessness, and he shifted a time or two in the hard-backed chair.

"Multiple personalities have been found in some werewolves. This can lend itself to blood savagery when they are moonstruck. Therefore, in treating them, one must use extreme caution. I must urge all of you not to forget that werewolves often bite the hands that feed them." Dr. Sigmund's closing words were met by loud applause.

The clapping grew, began to reverberate through the room, becoming thunderous. Leaving the sound behind her, Eve escaped to the ladies' lounge to freshen up, while Adam waited to speak with Dr. Sigmund. Hopefully the doctor would have news of the funding committee's decision.

Before the lecture began, Dr. Sigmund had signaled to them. He had specifically asked that Adam meet with him afterward, which had left Eve silently fuming. She was just as worthy as Adam to hear whatever Dr. Sigmund had to say. Even more so. Yet, now that Adam was supposedly returned from the great Transylvania, she was again ignored and regulated to the petticoat line.

Inside the lounge, Eve straightened her hair and tucked on her bonnet, wondering nervously what the committee's decision was. The Towers did so need the money.

Her mind on her worries, Eve took little note of her surroundings as she walked back to the lecture hall. As she was passing a darkened alcove, a golden hook appeared from behind the deep crimson curtains and grabbed her by the long puffy sleeve. Suddenly Eve found herself being reeled in like a fish on a line.

The curtains dropped back behind her, where she found herself in an enclosed small space with the one pirate she certainly had no wish to encounter or encourage. Immediately she took up a militant stance. Glowering up into the face of her abductor, she lifted her nose and looked down it at him—not an easy feet for one of her stature. Stubborn, strong-willed, and courageous, somehow she managed. It never entered Eve's head to cry out for help, even when manhandled by a tall, thin, partial wererat. "Unhand me at once! What effrontery is this to waylay me here?"

Hook laughed, holding her tightly with the fingers of his good hand curled around her neck. His hook was now caught in the skirts of her gown. If she moved, he would tear it. He had a dark look and steely determination in his good eye.

"I've waited a long time to have you near me, Eve. I don't want to let you go too soon. We need to have a few words." It was a bold statement with nefarious intent.

"You know I desire you," he continued, grinning in lusty amusement. Behind his words lay a world of want. "I've
always
wanted you, Eve. And I intend to have you—as soon as I've disposed of your husband."

Jerking her head to the side and trying to be rid of his foul touch, she railed at him. "Such presumption! I have not encouraged you, and well you know it!" She was worried about him hurting Adam. She wouldn't let him.

"Liar," he announced. "You loved me when you were fifteen. That summer you spent on yer father's ship, you gave me your kisses… and a bit more."

She couldn't help but blush, because that summer the tall, thin young man had spent several months on her father's
Jolly Roger
, learning the pirating, plundering, and pillaging business. At the time Ben had been twenty-one and filled with lusty intentions.

"You were to be mine!" he cried.

"I was young and foolish. That summer, you were the closest in age to me and the most gallant. But I must point out that that's not saying much on a pirate ship. Even seagulls are more gallant than buccaneers."

"You were a vision then, and have grown into a goddess," Hook remarked, his dark brown eye alive with long-repressed desire.

That burning gaze was intimidating. Talk about repressed libidos! Eve scowled. She knew she had been in the wrong all those years ago, allowing him to believe she was hooked, but that was all she had done. Guilt had dogged her for years afterward, and that summer her eyes had been opened to the more nefarious part of his character, like women, wine, women, and song. And women.

"I can't believe I lost you. You were always meant to be mine, sweetling," Hook said.

"I disagree," Eve replied. But it appeared Hook was back and determined to force his hand—onto her. Eve found his intentions reprehensible. She shoved the blackhearted villain back, hard, but to no avail; Hook didn't budge an inch, and all she managed was to rip her gown.

She tried abusing him verbally: "Oh, go boil yourself in oil, and leave me be. I'm a happily married woman." She didn't like the look in Hook's eye or his threatening stance. She didn't think he would rape her, or even abduct her from the museum, yet she was afraid for Adam. Something fierce had grabbed her savagely by the heart, rolling her toward love like the crashing of the ocean's mighty waves to shore. She couldn't stand the thought of her Adam's much too early demise. It was strange, she knew; just last week she would have danced upon Dr. Griffin's grave. Well, maybe not danced…

"You'll be a happy widow, but not for long. My waiting days are over. I've waited for you longer than I have for anything, and I intend to have you. Yer husband will be wondering where you are. When he comes, I'll see to his death."

So that was Hook's game. "If you hurt my husband, I'll kill you!" she vowed. "I swear it on my mother's grave! I don't love you, Ben. I'll
never
love you. If you hurt my husband, I'll see to it you walk the plank of one of my father's ships—but not before you're keelhauled once or twice, you dirty rat!"

Eve had taken the wrong tack; she recognized that fact as soon as Hook's face turned red and his expression filled with malice. So much for the truth. Eve shoved him hard, hearing her gown rip further. "Leave me the bloody hell alone!" she cried.

Fortunately, her gown was made of strong stuff, and basically held, but his gold hook still captured a thick piece of her skirt.

Hook leaned in so close that Eve smelled the rum on his breath. His one eye glowered at her with frustrated desire and hatred. "You bitch! Love him, do you? Well, no matter. I'll serve his liver to you on a platter!"

Eve tried not to shudder as Hook's mouth took possession of her own. It was a brutal assault, leaving her lower lip cut and bruised. His hook pressed hard into her back, and his other hand still held her neck in a death grip.

She gagged and bit down on his tongue.

"You vicious bitch!" he accused, and his hand moved to her breast and squeezed cruelly. "You'll pay for that!" He squeezed again, with malicious intent, smiling grimly when he heard her whimper. "I hadn't planned to tup you here, but your razorish tongue has decided your fate. You'll learn obedience to me on your knees, like the bitch you are!"

Realizing that the situation had gone far beyond her control, and not wanting to have her virginity forcibly taken, she opened her mouth and yelled, "Adam!"