Too Dangerous to Desire (12 page)

“Adam—”

“You don’t understand, Damian. Evelyn is terri
fied of the prince. She will be even more spooked if a horde of strange men try to whisk her away. She won’t believe you’re trying to help her. But she will believe you if she sees
me
.”

The pirates still looked troubled. It was a gamble to bring along an injured collaborator. If Adam failed and their scheme was exposed, they might all lose their heads.

But Adam would not fail.

He would will his injuries away when the time to rescue Evelyn approached. He had suffered great hardship before and survived. He would again.

“We’ll need weapons,” said William. “Should anything go wrong.”

“And fancy robes,” quipped Quincy.

The duke approached his brother. “Let’s get some food into you first, then dress your wounds again. I’ll give you a coat and a pair of trousers for the ball.”

Adam looked at his brother, grateful.

“Head out,” ordered Black Hawk.

The pirates moved toward the door.

“And nobody tell Belle about our plan or she’ll want to come with us,” said Quincy.

“Agreed,” the men said in unison; the duke, too.

It looked as if Mirabelle, the Duchess of Wem
bury, would not be apprised of the situation. Although Adam didn’t believe a woman in the way of childbearing would want to come along, anyway.

As the pirates filed out of the study, Adam whispered to his brother, “Are you sure we can trust them, Damian?”

“No,” returned the duke. “But what choice do we have?”

Adam wasn’t mollified. “They’re pirates! Fine breeches won’t be able to hide their boorish manners.”

“The Hawkins brothers have attended a ball or two since retiring from piracy. The
ton
is will
ing to overlook their “merchant” ways because of their connection to me. In truth, the younger brothers are considered quite a catch.”

Adam grimaced at the thought of some un
suspecting debutante setting her cap for a buccaneer.

“It’s still a great risk to bring them along, Damian.”

“It would be an even greater risk if we left them behind.”

True.

Blast it!

nm

he ball was in full swing. Adam stood off to the side, discreet. With a glass of champagne in his hand, he observed the more than five hundred guests making merry in the grand ballroom.

It was a sumptuous event, filled with the crème de la crème of society. The house itself was akin to a palace, fitted with marble flooring resplendent under brilliant candlelight. So much lavishness. And it all belonged to the Moravian throne: a grand state dwelling for visiting royals or diplo
mats. The perfect setting to host a regal engage
ment ball.

The burns at his breast blistering, Adam girded against the pulsing pain and glanced across the heads of so many familiar lords and ladies, search
ing for Evelyn.

But he had yet to find her.

He skimmed his eyes over the crowd again. King George IV was in attendance; the mon
arch was easy to spot with so many courtiers vying for his attention. Adam went on to spy his brother at the other end of the room, social izing with a group of acquaintances. Next he eyed Black Hawk, lurking in the shadows. The pirate captain maintained a steady watch over the horde of guests, too. Every so often, though, he signaled to his brothers with a simple blink or nod to carry on with the scheme.

The rest of the pirates were scattered across the ballroom. Quincy and Edmund, the two youngest brigands, were dancing. It was a sight indeed, for the buccaneers had mastered the waltz. William, the second eldest of the lot—as Adam had later learned—stood near the threshold in cordial con
versation with a group of adoring ladies.

It was really rather incredulous, the spectacle of four pirates mingling with the
ton
. Well, three. Black Hawk maintained a social distance. He ap
parently frightened the lofty ladies, ogre that he was. But then again, the other pirates weren’t really mingling, either. Adam observed each brig
and silently return the captain’s signal. Even with their easy grins, it was clear the men were hard at work to find Evelyn.

But where was she?

Adam’s heart pounded in sync with the swift music. A cold chill gripped his throat, like a hand squeezing the breath from his lungs.

Had the devil Prince Vadik harmed Evelyn al
ready? Beat her to death in a blind rage? A pun
ishment for deserting him?

It stirred an even greater welter of pain than the burns, the thought of Evelyn in agony . . . dead.

Adam stomped the ballooning grief in his gut. The duke was approaching, and he smoothed his features into a bland smile to maintain the ruse.

“Where is she, Adam?”

The duke stopped a short distance away from his brother. He appeared comfortable in manner, but Adam sensed the restless energy stemming from him. Or was it Adam’s own restless energy bouncing off the duke?

“I don’t know where she is,” said Adam, and took a swig of champagne to soothe the fire in his belly. “She should be here, though.”

“I met her father, the Earl of Bewley.”

Adam hardened to hear the other scoundrel’s name. “Where is he?”

The duke gestured with his head across the room. “Over there. By the window.”

Adam spied the old man standing off to one side. He briefly lifted his bloodshot eyes to com
municate with a passing guest, but then quickly returned to his stoic posture.

The earl was dead, soulless. It was apparent in his manner, his quiet and vacant expression. Ad
dicted to drink and coin and whatever other vices befall a man, he was a mere shell, void of energy or life. No wonder he had sold another daughter. The man had no wits left to reason with. No heart to break.

The duke eyed the throng. “What does Evelyn look like again?”

Snapped from his reverie, Adam returned, “She isn’t here, Damian. Believe me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Do you see the crowd engaged in pleasant
ries? If Evelyn was in the room, every eye would be trained on her.”

The duke lifted a sooty brow. “Is she so beautiful?”

“Yes. Why else is the prince so determined to have her?”

“Well, then I suppose we must wait for the royal bride to make her fashionably late appearance.”

Adam did not voice the dreadful sentiment aloud, that Evelyn might not be making an appearance—ever. He refused to think about the ghastly possibility that she was dead. In truth, he couldn’t stomach it.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” assured the duke.

Adam glanced at his brother, so astute. But he did not respond. The music had stopped, the crowd’s attention snagged by His Royal Highness, King George.

“I wish to offer a toast.” His Majesty lifted a sparkling glass. “To our dear ally and good friend, Prince Vadik of Moravia, and his lovely bride, Lady Evelyn Waye. Many blessings upon both of you.”

A chorus of applause, the crescendo making Adam’s head pound. He stretched his neck to peer over plumes and stacked coiffures, looking for Evelyn.

Where are you?

A gentleman approached the king. Adam loathed the stranger on sight. There was some
thing about his methodical gait and prissy manner that provoked dislike.

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

Vadik!

“I am honored by your sincere felicitations.” The prince smiled. “I regret my fiancée is unwell and unable to attend the festive gathering, but I humbly accept your well wishes and return your blessing tenfold.”

Unwell!

Adam thundered across the ballroom. A dark
ness filled him, goaded him to wend through the dense crowd with maddening purpose. He heard the distant command to stop, but he refused to listen to the duke.

Adam pinned his eyes on the devil, Prince
Vadik. A handsome man with golden curls and a smooth and easy smile.

Adam bunched his fists and moved closer . . . closer . . .

“Good evening, Your Highness.”

The duke suddenly sidestepped his brother, blocking him from the prince and the king.

Adam glared at the back of Damian’s head. His fingers twitched and burned to trounce the dastardly prince, to snap his despicable neck and hang his carcass from the highest bell tower to rot.

King George returned the greeting with a re
spectful, “Your Grace.”

“My brother and I would like to wish Your Highness health and happiness.”

His Majesty eyed Adam with a curious stare. “My lord, you have returned?”

His Royal Highness tactfully neglected to men
tion,
From the dead
.

Adam swallowed the black bile in his throat and stepped out of his brother’s shadow. “I have indeed, Your Majesty.”

It was like nails driven into the soles of his feet, the unbearable proximity to
him
. The notorious devil keeping Evelyn hostage was only four short feet away. All Adam had to do was reach out and grab the fiend, rip the skin from his back.

But Adam was impotent to do as he desired. He stood with steely resolve instead—glaring at the fiend.

“My brother and I would also like to wish Prince Vadik our warm congratulations.”

Once he was no more the center of attention, King George found favor with another eager courtier desperate for his attention.

The prince approached the Duke of Wembury and held out his hand in deference. “Your Grace, I am delighted to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine.”

The men shook hands.

“I have heard much about you.” Vadik stepped closer to the duke and whispered, “I believe you and I are very much alike, Your Grace.”

Damian bristled. “How do you mean?”

But Prince Vadik only smiled and refrained from further comment. He turned his dark green eyes to Adam.

“Good evening, my lord.”

The prince extended his hand.

Adam envisioned hacking off the extremity. He pondered the thrilling idea for a brief moment before he gathered his composure and returned the greeting.

Their hands touched.

The prince offered a firm handshake . . . but Adam wasn’t so cordial. He gripped the scoun
drel’s palm with savage force, crushed his
fingers.

Something flickered in Vadik’s emerald eyes.

Pleasure.

Adam quickly released his hold, perturbed. The villain had enjoyed the brief spurt of pain. And the idea of giving
him
any sort of delight made Adam’s gut twist with nausea.

The duke intervened with a disheartened remark: “We regret to hear your fiancée is indis
posed, Prince Vadik.”

Vadik’s gaze lingered upon Adam before he re
turned, “I, too, mourn the loss of her company.”

Mourn the loss!

Adam was dizzy with grief, the wounds at his chest bleeding again. He could feel the blood seeping through the bandages, and placed a hand over his taut midriff to stave off the flow. But it did little good. His veins flexed in stiff alarm; the blood pumped through the wounds. The dark suit he wore covered the stains, but there was nothing to cover the bereavement in his eyes.

Was Evelyn dead?

Was he too late to save her?

Had he failed
again
to rescue a woman he had vowed to protect?

“And where is your wife, Your Grace?” Vadik’s smile turned amorous. “I understand she is a great beauty.”

The duke’s features darkened. Adam recog
nized that rabid look, so reminiscent of their father.

Slowly Damian said, “The duchess is also in
disposed, I’m afraid.”

“Pity. I had hoped to dance with her tonight.”

“Not tonight.” The duke muttered under his breath so only Adam could hear: “Or any other night.”

The brothers eyed each other. Both were eager to get out of the prince’s presence.

The duke bobbed his head. “We bid you good evening, Prince Vadik.”

“Good evening, Your Grace.” Eyes set on Adam once more, the prince said, “Good evening, my lord.”

Adam offered a brisk nod before he retreated with his brother.

The air stifling and hot, Adam was sweating. He battled nausea, too, the sickness in his belly compounded by the ravenous way Prince Vadik had caressed him with his eyes.

Adam prayed Evelyn was still alive. He had to get to her; he had to save her from Vadik’s wicked hold.

Once a safe lead behind the ignoble prince, Adam and Damian clustered together to keep the other guests from eavesdropping.

“That lecherous son of a bitch!”

The outburst from Damian.

Adam was too pensive to express the heavy sentiments inside him, so dark and stormy. He gripped his midriff again, the pulsing wounds biting.

“Adam, are you all right?”
He gritted, “I’m fine.”
A daunting figure approached.
“What the hell do you two think you’re doing?”

Black Hawk growled, “It was
not
part of the plan to communicate with the prince!” “The plan has changed,” said a discontented
Damian. “Evelyn isn’t here.” The pirate captain scowled. “Are you sure?” “She’s ‘unwell’ and cannot attend the ball.” “Shit!” “She
is
here,” insisted Adam, gripped with an
idea. “She is under guard, though.” “How do you know?” from the pirate captain. Adam spied the rabble. Hope burst into his
breast. Evelyn was alive! She had to be because . . .

“The henchmen are missing.” “So?” “So Vadik won’t leave her unchaperoned for
fear she might run away again. We have to search the house for her.”

It was the first real indication he’d had that Evelyn was still alive. If the henchmen were absent from the ball, they had to be guarding her!

Filled with renewed energy, Adam started for the door.

A firm hand gripped his arm.