Too Dangerous to Desire (4 page)

Evelyn rinsed her skin with cool water, then patted it dry with a small towel. She knew very little about Adam. So wary of strangers, why had she settled into his cottage with such ease?

She wasn’t sure. She was baffled by her own choice to stay. But stay she would. For a time.

The small silver mirror sparkled under the warm firelight, the glass shiny and winking.

Evelyn stared at the hand-held mirror on the bed, another gift from Adam. Without sparing
it another thought, she picked up the glass and turned it upside-down. She hated to see her own reflection.

Free from the mirror’s disturbing call, she re
turned to the table. Under lamplight, she finished the last few stitches in the dress. The alteration complete, she lifted the lovely butter white frock to inspect her handiwork.

“I think it will fit.”

To be sure, though, she shimmied out of her tat
tered clothes and stepped into the finely woven attire.

It was cool to the skin, the soft linen. She couldn’t reach all the buttons in the back, so a few went unclasped. For the most part, though, the garb fit her well around the midriff.

She moved about the room, testing the garment’s fluidity. It was a tad too short in the hem, but that didn’t matter. It would suit her just fine around the cottage.

Evelyn stilled.

She listened for the noise once more.

Heartbeat drumming, she picked up a candle and slowly opened the door. She stepped outside. A sudden dread enveloped her; that
he
had found her. She waited for
him
to jump from the shadows and steal her away. But she soon realized her fear was unfounded. The noise was not the shuffle of feet, but a cry of distress.

With her hand shielding the flame, she moved around to the back of the cottage, searching for the cause of the sound.

As she neared the woodshed, the groaning surged in pitch.

Feet bare, she tiptoed closer to the shelter and peeked inside to see Adam lying on the ground— swatting at something in the air.

“Adam?”

He swatted some more.

Evelyn set the candle on the dirt and crouched at Adam’s feet. She shook him by the ankle. “Wake up.”

When he still swiped and punched, she gave his ankle a hard jerk.

Adam flinched.

Evelyn was quiet for a moment, then wondered, “Are you awake?”

He slowly shifted to sit, rubbing his eyes. “I think so . . . where am I?”

“In the shed. Come inside and take the bed. I will sleep outside.”

“No,” he croaked. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. You don’t like to sleep outside, admit it?”

He had forsaken the bed for her. Out of duty. But Evelyn didn’t want to displace the man from the comforts of his own home. Clearly he didn’t
like being outside with the crickets, and she was determined to get him back indoors where he belonged.

She took him by the hand. “Come inside, Adam.”

Evelyn gasped when he captured her wrist and gripped it tight. It was a strong hold. Unbreakable. And yet she did not shake or squirm. In Adam’s strong hold, she did not feel a prisoner. She felt safe.

“It’s all right, Evie,” he whispered. “It was only a dream.”

He let go of her wrist, the warmth of his fingers slipping from her flesh. She shivered at the loss of his touch.

Evelyn was baffled by her curious response to Adam. She had never yearned for a man’s touch before. Never trembled at the loss.

She looked away, bashfulness overwhelming her. “What did you dream about?”

He stroked his dark and curly locks. “My brother.”

She gazed back at him. “You have a brother?”

“I did.”

Her heart cramped in sympathy, for she under
stood the dreadful loss of a cherished sibling. “I’m sorry. How did he die?”

Adam’s eyes were heavy with sleep, but there
was also a hint of bewilderment in his somnolent gaze. Then a look of thoughtful reflection . . . and then a dark fire.

Another stirring shiver.
“That dress,” he whispered.
She looked down at the garment. “I’ve upset
you, haven’t I? I will go inside and take off the
dress.” “No, don’t.” “But it reminds you of your late wife.” “You don’t look anything like her,” he said,
a note of confusion in his voice. “Even in the dress.”

Evelyn could almost feel him caress her, the strength and heat in his eyes was so great. And what’s more, she didn’t mind the stirring sensation.

“Go back to bed, Evie.”

Flustered under his scorching stare, Evelyn scooped up the candle and quickly returned to the cottage.

nm

he steady chopping sound roused Adam from his deep and troubled slumber. His mind filled with nightmares about the past, he slowly sat up and rubbed his neck, the muscles stiff with discomfort.

Adam shifted to his feet and stretched. He ap
proached the cottage, smoke rising from the short stacked chimney. The distracting thunks were coming from somewhere nearby. He rounded the structure to find . . .

Evelyn splitting wood.

She raised the axe high above her head—and paused. She glanced at him, and lowered the blade to her side. “Good morning.”

Such lovely eyes, he reflected. The exertion of the chore had sparked a bright glow in her other
wise dreamy gaze.

She stood before him sure and steady, a well-honed grip on the axe. Her thick, dark hair was loose and flowing in the soft summer breeze, her
breath deep and labored. Cheeks flushed, lips rosy red with blood, she looked vibrant . . . seductive.

His heartbeat quickened at the treacherous thought. He still loved his late wife. He would always love her. So how could he even think of an
other woman in such a way? A desperate woman under his protection?

“Good morning,” he returned gruffly.

“Are you hungry? I’ve prepared breakfast.”

Yes, food. That’s what he needed to chase away the baffling sentiments. He was famished and groggy. No wonder his thoughts had blurred to
gether like that.

She put the axe aside, and he followed her inside the cottage.

Adam stilled.

It looked . . . neat.

Hollyhocks in a jar of water brightened the table. There was a bowl of raspberries, too, making the air smell sweet. Porridge was boiling over a small fire in the hearth. The floors had been swept, lav
ender sprinkled across the planking to keep away the bugs. The bed was tidy, the linens folded and tucked tightly around the edges. Even the grimy rug under Adam’s boots wasn’t so grimy any
more, beat clean of dirt.

“I see you’ve been busy,” he said.

“I always rise early to do chores . . . do you like it?”

She was watching him closely, eager to hear his opinion, he could tell.

“It’s lovely.” He smiled. “Thank you.”

She offered him a small smile in return, a tender gesture that warmed his belly.

Only Tess’s smile had warmed his belly in the past.

He closed his eyes.

The feelings aren’t real! You need food in your belly and everything will be all right.

As Evelyn scooped the bubbling porridge into a wooden bowl, Adam sat down at the table. “I’ll fetch the material for the drapes today. Is there anything else you need from town?”

“No, I have all that I need.”

She placed the bowl of porridge between his hands. Adam reached for the spoon too soon. Before she had an opportunity to remove her hands from the dish, he brushed his fingers across hers.

A blue spark of static electricity snapped.

Evelyn gasped.

Adam was likewise startled. During his wed ding tour in Italy, he’d heard about the late anato mist Luigi Galvani’s attempt to animate corpses with electrical current. It had seemed fantastical to him at the time, but now, struck by Evelyn’s be witching touch, he wasn’t so sure. She was stir ring his long dormant senses back to life with
each touch, each smile. Calling out to parts of him
he had thought long dead.

Adam needed food.

He dipped into the bowl of porridge and tasted the freshly cooked fare. “Delicious.”

Evelyn sat across from him. She said nothing about the sizzling touch, but her voice was shaky as she confessed, “It’s an old recipe.”

Adam maintained a steady interest in the meal. “You’re a very good cook.”

She appeared sheepish under the praise. “I had to learn. Our cook . . .”

Clearly timid to admit the truth, Evelyn stared at the table.

But Adam had already learned one important fact: she had once been able to afford a cook.

He let the quiet stretch for a minute before he coolly inquired, “What happened to your cook?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I haven’t seen Mrs. MacFaden in years.”

Adam swallowed another spoonful of the roasted oats. “Why?”

But Evelyn refused to reveal more.

He was not disheartened by her silence, though. Determined to learn more about the mysterious woman, he pressed on in another manner: “Tell me about your sister.”

Evelyn blinked. “Ella?”

“A very beautiful name. Was she older or younger than you?”

“She was two years my senior.”

“And how old are you?”

“Twenty.”

He’d pegged her at about that age. “Did you get along with your sister?”

“Oh yes! Ella was my dearest friend.”

The woman’s expression brightened. Talk
ing about her sister put a bloom in her cheeks, a bounce in her voice, making her even lovelier.

Eat your porridge!

Adam returned to the meal in discomfiture. “Ella gave you the handsome necklace, didn’t she?”

Evelyn reached for the heart-shaped pendant at her throat. “Yes. She had two halves of a heart cast. She always wore one and I wore the other.”

“And now you have both halves . . . because she is dead.”

“Yes.” Her joyful expression fell. “Ella died last year.”

“How? Was she ill?”

“No.” Evelyn caressed the gold pendant with methodical strokes. “
He
killed her.”

Adam bristled. Hunger deserted him as the muscles in his belly clenched—and he imagined hacking
him
into a mountain of little pieces.

“He killed your sister?” Adam had never been
a vicious man in youth, but since the death of his wife, an interminable fury had gripped him for all things sinful. And the loathsome villain chasing after Evie smacked of sin incarnate. “But why?”

There was a firm rap at the door. “Capt’n?”

A spooked Evelyn darted across the room and hissed: “Who is that?”

Another set of loud taps.

Bewildered, Adam glanced from the door to Evelyn. “Don’t be frightened. The man’s a friend.”

“Why does he call you Captain?”

But Evelyn didn’t wait for an answer. She was already on the bed and crawling toward the window in distress.

“Evelyn, stop!”

Adam was too late to prevent her from wrig
gling her torso through the window. Only her posterior remained inside the house.

He was quick to grab hold of her before she tumbled out the window again. “Get back in here, Evie!”

More knocking. “Capt’n, wake up! I know you’re home. I can see the smoke from the chimney.”

“You promised me I’d be safe here, Adam; that no one would ever find me!”

“You are safe here,” he gritted. “Now come inside before you break your neck!”

With his cheek pressed against her thigh, Adam pulled her roughly through the window.

The couple landed on the bed in a breathless tangle of limbs.

The cottage door opened. “Capt’n, I’ve news about—”

Lieutenant Eric Faraday eyed the rumpled ap
pearances of the couple on the bed—in particular the comely Evelyn—before he gathered his wits and politely retreated. “Pardon, Capt’n.”

The door closed again.

Adam sighed. He dropped his head back against the feather tick, still squeezing Evelyn by the waist to keep her from escaping through the window.

“Let me go, Adam!”

“Promise me you won’t crawl out of the window again.”

She struggled in his arms, the friction setting his skin afire. He quickly released her without the assurance, so perturbed by the familiar heat, the longing stemming through his thighs, his belly.

Evelyn scrambled off his lap and pressed her back against the wall. Her loose hair was striking, a billow of dark waves across her shoulders. Eyes like a goddess. Lips so damn kissable . . .

Adam bounded from the bed. “Lieutenant!”

“Aye, Capt’n?” resounded from the other side of the door.

Adam opened the door and glared at Eric Faraday. “Lieutenant, come inside. I’d like you to meet—”

But the cottage was deserted.

Adam growled. “That bloody minx.”

“Capt’n?”

Adam marched outside. “Wait here, Lieutenant.”

“Aye, Capt’n.”

As he circled the cottage in search of Evelyn, Adam tamped the desire to rap the woman’s knuckles so she never opened another window again.

A figure sprinted across the beach, heading for the sea.

The blood in Adam’s veins turned to ice. He pounded down the grassy knoll and across the sand. “Evie!”

But Evelyn stopped short of the rising tide— and sat down.

He reached her, breathless. “I told you
not
to go near the water!”

“No, you told me not to go near the cliff. And I haven’t.”

“That’s a paltry difference, and you know it.” Adam dropped to his knees beside her, very tempted to rap the woman’s knuckles, after all. “Why did you run off like that?”

“You promised me I’d be safe.”

“You
are
safe. Lieutenant Faraday is a good man. I trust him.”

“Well,
I
don’t trust him.”

Or you
was on the tip of her lips.

Adam sighed. “Listen, Evie. I understand why you’re so frightened of
him
; he murdered your sister. But he won’t find you here.”

Enchanted by the woman’s handsome profile, Adam stroked the line of her jaw in tender regard. The delicate bone beneath his fingertip evoked a ruthless need inside him to protect her.

“Who is
he
, Evie? Why is he chasing you?”

Her lips quivered beneath his thumb. “I don’t want to talk about him.”

Adam dropped his arm. “Come back to the cot
tage then.”

“No.”

“Very well.”

“Adam!”

Ignominiously, he carried her over his shoul
der. “You’re not going to sit beside the water.”

“I won’t drown!”

“No, you won’t because you’re going to stay away from the water.” He set her down in the garden. “I don’t suppose you’d like to crawl back inside through the window and meet our guest?”

She glared at him, flustered. “No!” She fin gered the twisted hair away from her flushed
cheeks before she snatched the axe beside the cot tage wall. “If you’ll excuse me. I have firewood to chop—Captain.”

She had a tendency to shirk from confronta
tion, yet the fight in her eyes was unmistakable. Adam was pleased to see it—even if he was the cause of it. It offered him hope; that she was not so very passive, after all. That she would survive her troubles. And he would help her to do it.

“I’m not a captain, Evie.”

She sliced the wood into kindling with unset
tling precision. “I heard the lieutenant call you Captain.”

“Well, I’m not a captain in the naval sense.”

The wood split effortlessly. Evelyn picked up another log and placed it on the chopping block. “You said you weren’t a fisherman.”

“I don’t hunt for fish in the sea.”

“Then what do you hunt for?”

“Absolution.”

She glanced at him askance. “I think it’s best if you keep your secrets, Adam . . . and I keep mine.”