Too Dangerous to Desire (16 page)

Her pulse quickened.

“I don’t want you to do my bidding.” He folded his fingers around her hipbones. “I want you to tell me what you desire. What you need.”

Ever so slowly he pressed his lips to her belly. She gasped and closed her eyes in bliss.

She didn’t dare touch him. She sensed her own weakness when it came to Adam’s hot kisses. He would lure her to a forbidden place if she wasn’t careful.

And yet she couldn’t resist the incredible move
ments of his mouth against her taut midriff. It was such a contrast to the agony she had endured, the delight now coursing through her. She was eager for more. But she was afraid to ask for it.

Adam, however, was not afraid to offer it as he warmed her belly with smoldering kisses. He nuzzled her midriff before he bussed it over and over again, making her quiver with a longing so great, she abandoned her fears for the pure plea
sure he offered.

He tugged at her hips and demanded roughly, “Ask me.”

The blood rushing through her limbs, her brain was making her dizzy. At last she folded her hands over his head in a silent command for more.

“Yes,” he praised weakly and nipped at her through the ruffles in her skirt. “What else do you want?”

When his fingers curled around the backs of her legs, and he stroked the softness of her thighs, she whimpered and bit her bottom lip to stifle the improper request:
I want you.

Adam ended the kiss.

She trembled in frustration and longing, bunched her fingers together to keep from press
ing him to her belly once more.

“When you are ready to ask,” he said in a whis
per, “I will give you whatever you want.”

It sounded so tempting! What was he doing to her? What did he want with her? was perhaps the wiser question. Did he want to possess her? Hurt her?

He offered her protection. Yet he unsettled her with each look and touch . . . and kiss.

Flustered, she took a shaky step back.

Adam rested against the chair again. There was an unmistakable sparkle in his eyes from the candle flames. But the burning glow seemed almost sinfully inviting.

Evelyn swiftly clambered back onto the bed. She snuggled under the remaining covers and pretended to sleep. But she could feel Adam watching her closely.

There was little chance she would dream tonight.

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unlight warmed the room. The brilliant rays danced across the furniture—and the sultry figure snoozing under the covers. Adam observed the nymph, her thick black hair mussed and twisted to rest across one shoulder. With her dress askew, the soft curve of her other shoulder peeked through the frock, and Adam had to close his eyes to resist the tempting image of what else lay beneath her apparel.

Ask me
.

He bowed his head and rubbed his brow at the memory of his heated words the other night. Shame came over him. Shame for his wild desires . . . his unfaithfulness to Tess.

How could he engage in such boorish behav
ior with Evelyn? He had promised to protect the woman, not seduce her . . . and yet there was noth
ing he’d rather do.

Adam silently lifted off the chair. He was care
ful not to wake Evelyn. She had suffered great hardship. She deserved the respite.

Slowly he headed for the washstand, the wounds at his breast still smarting. He dipped his palms into the cold water before he splashed the spray across his features, and combed the moisture through his hair to tame the curls.

A deep hunger was growing inside him: a carnal hunger. He closed his eyes to beat back the lustful beast—but it defied taming.

The reflection in the glass captured his atten
tion: Evelyn watching him closely.

He picked up a nearby towel and patted his face dry. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

She blinked, a somnolent look in her eyes. “Are you leaving?”

“I’ll be back soon,” he assured her. “I’m just going to fetch you some breakfast.”

Another memory sparked:
“I’ll be back soon
,
luv.”

“Don’t go
,
Adam. Stay here with me.”

“It’ll be all right
,
Tess. We’ve hit choppy waters
,
is all. I’m just going topside to see if the crew needs any help. I’ll be back in a minute.”

With a twitch of the head, Adam dismissed the haunting recollection—but a chill still resided in his heart, compounded by the look of uncertainty in Evelyn’s eyes. The same look of uncertainty he
had witnessed in Teresa’s eyes the night the ship sank.

However, he would not fail Evelyn the way he had failed Teresa. He understood Vadik’s ruth
less and stubborn nature now. He understood the man was a powerful prince, wont to getting his way. But he would not get his hands on Evelyn. Not again.

“What’s going to happen to me?” she said softly.

Such fire burned in her violet eyes, such pain.

Adam approached the bed and knelt beside it. He stroked her knuckles, the skin broken where she’d struggled with the coffin. “You’re going to remain inside the castle for a time. The prince will eventually return home, and then I will find
you
a new home.”

He admired her as she rested in bed, and was gripped by a profound desire to share other such intimacies with another being—and saddened by the knowledge that he never would.

“I’ll return shortly, Evie. We’ll talk more then.”

He briskly quit the room, unable to maintain his firm composure.

Adam moved through the familiar castle causeways, insensible to his surroundings. Deep
in thought, he reflected upon the enchanting woman . . . and his own desire to be near her. But he would not surrender to the desire. He would remain faithful to his late wife.

Another crisis pressed on Adam’s mind. He had broken yet another vow: to apprehend the pirates. But Black Hawk and his brothers had settled their debt; they had helped him to save Evelyn. He could not in good conscience deliver the men into the hands of the magistrate. Hell, the cutthroats were
family
! Even if Adam still wanted to see the brigands hang, a public execu
tion would cause his brother and sister-in-law a tremendous amount of pain and embarrass
ment. And Adam had already caused the couple enough grief.

After a long stroll through the keep’s uncharac
teristically cheerful tunnels—he noted the duke had renovated the castle, likely to be more appeal
ing to his wife and child—Adam made his way down into the kitchen labyrinth.

He stood on the threshold, the air rife with freshly cooked fare. He was struck by the familiar furnishings, overwhelmed by a wealth of child
hood memories. One in particular stood out from the rest:
“Shove over.”

Adam scooted deeper beneath the table to make room for his elder brother. Damian crawled under the long
structure and settled beside him
,
crossing his legs at the

ankles. He opened the book.

“Let me read it
,
” said Adam.

Damian swatted at his brother’s hand. “You can’t read.”

He pouted. “I know my letters.”

“Oh really?” Damian pointed to a word. “What does that say?”

Adam eyed the scratches. “F . . . rrr . . . i . . .”

“Friday
,
” said Damian succinctly. “He’s Crusoe’s slave. And we’re going to be here until Friday if you read the book
,
so don’t pester me anymore.”

Adam made a grimace in protest.

“Did you bring the food?” said Damian.

Adam reached behind his back for the satchel and pried apart the cords. “Two apples rolled in brown sugar.”

He presented one candied fruit to his brother and savored the other for himself.

“Right then
,
where were we?” Damian scanned the marked page. “Aha! Crusoe and Friday are about to lay siege to the cannibals’ camp.”

Adam snuggled closer to his brother
,
munched on the apple, and eagerly listened to every word . . .

Adam spied the grand table, so lofty he could stretch out across it and still leave room for Cook to prepare the meals. He and the duke used to hide in the kitchen. Hide from their father . . . and it looked as if someone else was in hiding.

Adam narrowed his eyes on the little blond head peering out from under the wood table. She had the golden locks of her mother, but her eyes . . . she had the duke’s eyes.

Gads, he must look a fright to her! His hair mussed, his clothes wrinkled. To offset his be
draggled appearance, Adam smiled. “You must be Alice.”

Mother had often written to him about the young girl, his niece. She was a joy to the entire castle. And Adam could see why. She had a dar
ling face with inquisitive blue eyes. A little imp, he sensed.

“My name is Adam.”

Her pretty eyes rounded. “Uncle Adam?”

She had heard of him. There was a warm stir
ring in his heart at the thought that he was not a stranger to her. In name, anyway. And that she did not recoil in fear confirmed that tales of his monstrous behavior toward her father had never reached her innocent ears.

Alice closed her book, a burned and tattered copy of
Robinson Crusoe
. The very tome he and the duke had once read as children. It was the duke’s favorite book. Father had tossed it into the fire many years ago in a furious fit, but Adam had rescued the pages from the flames and gifted the book back to his brother. He was glad to see Alice reading it—even if it was upside-down!

The quick taps of her feet danced lightly in his ears as she approached him, curious.

“You’re tall,” said the sprite.

“Am I?”

She dragged the burdensome book with her and stopped a short distance from him. “Very tall.”

Adam stared down at her. “Is there something you need me to reach?”

Her pretty features brightened even more. “That.”

She pointed to the wooden bowl perched high above the cupboard. He reached for the mysteri
ous dish, covered with a napkin.

Adam flipped back the linen to reveal a square cut of chocolate.

He eyed the imp. “Is this chocolate for you?”

“Oh yes.”

“Are you sure it doesn’t belong to Cook?”

She blinked. “Oh no.”

Adam was amused by the chit’s blatant attempts at manipulation. She was spoiled rotten—and she had been waiting for just the right saphead to come along and do her bidding. Yet he didn’t feel like denying her the treat.

A darkness entered Adam’s heart, a tremen
dous regret. He remembered the night he had stabbed his brother. He had come so close to taking the duke away from this precious child!

And what of her mother? Adam had aimed a gun at her, too. For one brief and twisted moment he had contemplated ending her life to make the duke suffer. Had she carried Alice in her womb even then?

Overwhelmed by sickness at the morbid thought, Adam swallowed the fresh regret. He crouched and tried to ignore the pounding of his heart, as he offered the little girl her cherished sweet.

Alice was quick to swipe the sugary candy, her eyes round in great expectation. She was ready to bite into the chocolate when she peered at him with concern.

“Don’t be sad,” she said, and snapped a piece— a tiny piece—of chocolate. She handed him the candy. “We can share.”

“Thank you.”

Adam accepted the offering and tried to dismiss the misery from his features before Alice noticed even more distress. He was filled with bitter loath
ing for himself: a disgust that he had once come so close to devastating so many innocent lives.

Alice gnawed on the chocolate and smiled.

Adam, too, popped the treat into his mouth to coat the tart taste of bile in his belly.

The sound of firm footfalls resounded.

“Alice?”

At the ring of an authoritative voice, Alice quickly stuffed the rest of the chocolate into her mouth.

Adam was still crouched beside the little girl when the Duchess of Wembury entered the kitchen, her belly
very
swollen.

The woman was a fetching sight, her tawny gold locks in a soft chignon, a few loose tendrils caressing her regal cheeks and jaw. Eyes a soft gold, she wore a quiet, very complimentary, butter yellow frock.

She rested her eyes on Adam for an instant, fire flashing in the amber pools, before she quickly turned her attention to her daughter, and re
proached, “Lady Alice Westmore, I warned you not to touch the chocolate. How is Cook going to make the frosting for the cake now?”

The little girl blinked.

The duchess eyed the empty bowl still in Adam’s hands. “Alice, did you eat
all
the chocolate?”

Alice shook her head vehemently, her cheeks stuffed with the spoils.

Mirabelle narrowed her eyes. “The bowl is empty, Alice. Where is the rest of the chocolate?”

The treacherous sprite pointed her finger at Adam’s round cheek.

The duchess lifted a delicate brow at her brother-in-law.

Overwhelmed by chagrin, Adam swallowed the chocolate.

Mirabelle pointed to the passageway behind her, where a shadow was seen. “Alice, return to the schoolroom with Nurse.”

She mumbled, “Yes, Mama.”

The imp pressed the old book against her chest and strutted from the room, showing no sign of remorse for having snitched on her uncle.

Adam put the empty bowl aside and lifted off his haunches. A tempest raged inside his breast. He had tried to kill the duchess and her husband at one time. Standing across from the woman was intimidating. He didn’t know what to say, how to even express the shame burning inside him.

“I understand you dragged my husband and brothers away last night? To a ball?” Despite her swollen belly, she appeared very officious with her hands on her hips. “I also noticed I wasn’t in
vited to come along.”

Adam eyed her belly, thinking of the babe about to burst forth.