Too Dangerous to Desire (11 page)

“Read on,” said Damian.

Bemused, Adam gathered his wits and scanned the invitation again. “. . . engage
ment ball . . . Lady Evelyn Waye . . . her fiancé . . . Prince Vadik of Moravia.” Adam blinked. “Vadik
is
a prince?”

“A very powerful one, too,” said Damian.

Adam struggled to maintain his composure. There was a buzzing sound in his ears, making it hard to concentrate. “How so?”

“I don’t suppose you’ve been following the po
litical climate of late?”

Quietly he said, “No, I’ve been otherwise en
gaged these last few years.”
Chasing pirates
. “What’s happening abroad?”

“Greece is revolting against the Ottoman Turks. The empire is in danger of collapsing, and with
out the sultan to hold back Russia, Tsar Alexander will advance on the Balkans.”

“Where does Vadik fit into all this?”

“He is the younger brother of King Tavo of Moravia, who formed an alliance with England. Moravia will stand against Russia should the Ot
toman Empire fall. Moravia is an important ally, Adam. Our king himself will be in attendance at the engagement ball to show his support for the Moravian monarchy.” Damian crouched to better eye his brother. “To steal Prince Vadik’s bride will be akin to treason. We can’t go after Evelyn.”

Adam stared at his brother. The rush of blood to his brain made the buzzing sound in his ears even louder. “I understand.”

“Do you?”

He nodded. “Give me the location of the ball.”

The duke sighed and snatched the invitation from his brother’s hand. “I see you do
not
under
stand the gravity of the situation.”

“You have a wife and child, Damian. You cannot commit treason and lose your head. But I have no one, nothing to lose. I will go after Evelyn alone.”

The duke stalked back over to the desk and dropped the card on the table. “It’s not that simple, Adam.”

“It is,” he said with confidence. “I promised to protect Evelyn, and I will.”

“You might lose your life.”

“So be it. But if I don’t go after Evelyn, she will surely lose hers.”

Damian took in another taxing breath. “There will be guards, you know? How do you intend to get inside the house without an invitation?”

“I’ll sneak inside.”

“And if you’re caught?”

Adam stood—and wavered—dizziness blind
ing him again. “It’s a risk I have to take.”

The duke approached him and with very little effort knocked him back across the lounge. “You’re not going anywhere; you need to rest.”

“I’m fine,” Adam gritted.

“The devil you are.” The duke pointed to his scarred and bandaged torso. “You have burn marks across your chest and a crack in your head. You won’t be much good to Evelyn if you collapse at Vadik’s door. Besides, you can’t save the girl alone.”

Rankled, Adam demanded, “Then what do you suggest I do?”

“I suggest you attend the ball . . . with me.”

Adam softened his ornery disposition. “I can’t ask you to come with me, Damian. The risk is too great to a man in your position.”

“Don’t remind me,” he growled, and returned to the study desk. “But I won’t see you hang.”

Adam’s pulse ticked faster at the unexpected assertion. Why would Damian care whether he lived or died?

Because I love you.

Damian’s words, uttered four years ago during their last grisly encounter, echoed in Adam’s head.

But he dismissed the sentimental memory. Four years was a long time for a temper to fes-ter—and for brotherly regard to turn to brotherly rage.

So why
did
Damian care?

Perhaps he was thinking of their mother? He might want to spare her the distress of losing a son. It was a far more likely explanation than the absurd notion that the duke was worried about him.

Adam put aside his confusion to inquire, “What about your wife? The invitation includes her. It might appear suspicious if you bring along your brother instead of the duchess.”

“The duchess cannot attend the ball; she is in confinement.”

Adam’s thoughts whirled, danced together in a mad rush. The duchess was expecting another child?

“I didn’t intend to attend the ball myself,” said Damian. “Without Belle by my side, I can’t abide such dull affairs.”

The cramp in Adam’s heart took his breath away, the ache for someone at
his
side almost crippling.

“But you can’t do this alone,” said the duke. “You will never get inside the well-guarded house without me. Besides, I am the former ‘Duke of Rogues,’ am I not? No one will dare to question me—or my choice of companions.”

Adam blinked to dispel the longing in his breast. “Companions?”

“We cannot storm the dwelling without help.”

At the thought of a siege, Lieutenant Eric Fara
day came to mind. “I know a good man, Damian. A naval shipman. Many sailors, in truth. Loyal men—”

The duke lifted a hand to silence him. “Even disguised sailors wearing fine breeches will appear out of place in mannerism; we will quickly be discovered. Besides, there is no time to round up the sailors. The ball is set to begin in a matter of hours. I’m afraid we need more timely—and professional—help. And as much as it pains me to do this . . .”

Damian moved to the door and opened it. “Jenkins.”

The butler quickly appeared; he must have been waiting just outside the room. “Yes, Your Grace?”

“Please fetch my brothers-in-law and escort them to the study.”

nm

dam observed the duke and noted the man’s
scowl. “Your brothers-in-law?”

“Yes,” said Damian darkly. “Four maddening men who insist on making my life miserable. Pun
ishment for marrying their sister, you know?”

In truth, Adam wasn’t privy to the antagonism of in-laws. His late wife an only child, he had shirked the merging of two headstrong families.

“They’re here at the castle,” said the duke. “They want to be present for the birthing, so you can imagine the rows we have over my wife’s welfare.”

“Then why have you summoned them to the study?”

“Because we need their help.”

“I see.” Adam ignored the dreadful ache in his head to inquire, “And will they help us?”

“Yes—once I deign to ask for assistance. It will give them great pleasure to hear me admit I need their support.”

Adam was dubious about such an alliance. “Is there no goodwill between you?”

“My in-laws believe I should be shot.” Damian tweaked a cuff link. “What do you think?”

“I think I should go to the ball alone.”

“No,” said the duke in a simple yet emphatic manner. “You will not.”

There was an autocratic air to the succinct com
mand. The duke was accustomed to giving orders and being obeyed . . . but there was something more in his countenance. A regard for Adam’s well-being?

Impossible.

And yet that look in his eyes . . .

The thunder of approaching footfalls persuaded both men to glance toward the door.

“Adam, I should warn you about something.”

“What is it?”

But the duke had no opportunity to explain.

Without so much as a ceremonious knock, the study door burst open, and four towering brutes with soot black hair and piercing blue eyes swag
gered into the room.

“I hear we’ve been summoned,” said the big
gest of the lot. “What the devil do you want,
Your Grace
?”

As if someone had picked up an hourglass and turned it upside-down, Adam was transported back through time. He stood aboard the
Hercules
,
disgruntled, observing a band of brigands retreat across the ship’s deck—with his fob watch!

Adam eyed the fob watch dangling from the big brute’s vest pocket.

Black Hawk!

Adam saw red.

He lunged off the furniture, his injuries dis
missed by the blinding effect of savage rage. He knocked the pirate captain off his feet and pounded on him with his fists.

“You son of a bitch!” cried Adam.

There was an instant uproar.

Between the scuffle of arms and legs, and the duke’s autocratic voice getting into the mix of things, Adam was lost to the chaos of the moment. He swiped at Black Hawk with nary a thought to the added harm he was doing to his already bat
tered bones.

Adam could feel the hard pinch in his arm. Someone was tugging him away from the fray. Quickly he grabbed the fob watch from Black Hawk before he was pulled through the tangle of hands and feet and thrust up against the wall.

The duke pinned his forearm under Adam’s chin.

Gasping, Adam struggled against his brother with wild resolve. “Your in-laws are
pirates
?”

“A travesty, I know,” the duke said dryly.

Black Hawk was back on his feet. He righted
his rumpled clothes, wiped his lip, slightly swell ing, and glared at Adam with murderous intent.

“Is this why you summoned us, Damian?” the pirate captain growled. “For a bloody row?”

“No!” said the duke before he pinned his steel blue eyes on his brother, and whispered, “I know you’re angry, Adam, but think of Evelyn.”

Adam sobered. His heart still beat at a swift canter, but he resisted the impulse to snap the corsair’s neck.

“Then why
did
you send for us?” gritted Black Hawk.

“Aye, Damian, what the devil’s going on?”

Adam eyed the other pirate. He had matured in six years, his boyish features and youthful struc
ture more developed, but he smacked of the same irksome smugness that had riled Adam all those years ago. “
You
filched the watch from me, you bloody cutthroat.”

The scamp beamed with pride at the appella
tion “cutthroat.” “I thought you looked familiar.”

Adam was gripped by a profound urge to flat
ten the scalawag’s nose.

“My brother and I need your help,” said the duke.

“Brother?” echoed Black Hawk.

Adam shouted, “Like hell!”

He struggled against the duke in opposition. Adam was
not
going to trust a bunch of wily buc
caneers to rescue Evelyn. The dishonorable brutes would foil everything.

The duke pressed his brother back against the wall. “Think about it, Adam. Who better to defeat the prince than a band of scheming cutthroats?”

Black Hawk returned dryly, “I’m flattered you think so highly of us.”

But Adam loathed the idea—however reasonable—with every drop of blood in his veins. For four frustrating years he had hunted the corsairs, seeking justice for their dastardly raid. How was he to overlook their foul habits? Even
trust
the scoundrels?

“But they’re pirates, Damian!”

“Retired pirates,” said the duke. “With a duch
ess for a sister, they can’t enjoy the spoils of the sea anymore.”

“A bloody shame, too,” quipped the youngest brigand, disheartened.

Retired? At the height of their infamy? To pro
tect their sister?

“Horseshit,” said Adam.

“It’s true,” said the duke. “The brothers are merchant sailors now . . . but I suspect they can be tempted to return to their wicked ways for tonight.”

Black Hawk lifted a dark brow. “And how do you intend to tempt us, Damian?”

“With a challenge,” said the duke. He eased
his hold across his brother’s chest, and looked at him with stern warning not to engage in fisticuffs again.

“What sort of challenge?” said the young upstart.

“And what’s this about a prince?” inquired an
other brigand.

The duke explained: “There is a royal ball to
night. Prince Vadik of Moravia is engaged to marry Lady Evelyn Waye. But the prince is a vil
lain; he is forcing the young lady to wed against her will.”

Black Hawk growled, “And why do
you
care about the woman, Damian?”

The implication was clear:
Betray our sister and you’re dead
. But Adam quickly put the misconcep
tion to rest. “She’s
my
woman.”

The pirate captain shifted his gaze. “Yours?”

The duke arched a questioning brow, too.

As the fight drained from his blood, Adam was more and more aware of the pain wracking his body, and he rested against the wall for support. “Yes, mine.”

Evelyn wasn’t really his woman; he didn’t think of her in that regard. But he suspected the roving band of cutthroats were men who followed their primal instincts. They would never understand the idea of an honored vow. But there was noth ing more primal than to protect one’s woman
from harm. The pirates would understand
that
sentiment—and keep their hands off Evelyn.

It burned Adam’s blood to think he might be beholden to the wretched brigands. But Damian was right. Who better to best the brutal Prince Vadik than an equally brutal band of bandits?

However, Adam intended to make it clear to the corsairs Evelyn was
not
to be touched. One look into her enchanting violet eyes, and he suspected the buccaneers might be bewitched. If he claimed the woman as his now, he’d avert that from hap
pening later.

“We have to save Evelyn,” said the duke.

Black Hawk narrowed his eyes on the man. “We do?”

The duke said stiffly, “I’m asking you to help us.”

“No ‘please’?”

“Please,” gritted Damian.

That seemed to satisfy the pirate captain, for humor danced in his cold blue eyes. “Very well.”

The young scamp whooped. “We’re going to steal a royal bride!”

It was then Adam realized he didn’t know any of the would-be heroes by name. The duke must have realized it, too, for he made the introduc tions: “Adam, I’d like you to formally meet our allies.” He inclined his head toward Black Hawk, who appeared to be near forty years of age. “Cap
tain James Hawkins.” Flanking the captain was . . . “William.” The duke next nodded toward a rather surly-looking devil. “Edmund.” And then to the youngest of the lot. “Quincy.”

So that was the young scalawag’s name? Adam still harbored a deep grudge against the scamp for stealing his fob watch . . . and gifting it to Black Hawk. Why
had
the pirate captain kept the bauble all these years? Why hadn’t he sold it along with the rest of the spoils?

“Tell us more about the prince, the ball,” said Black Hawk . . . James Hawkins.

Adam would never grow accustomed to the pirate lord’s name. The brigand would always be the infamous Black Hawk in his mind.

And to think the notorious villain was going to help him save Evelyn!

Adam moved away from the wall and returned to the lounge, the pulsing in his head, the throb
bing in his arms making him woozy.

The duke related the essential details about the prince and the henchmen, and then plotted with the brigands about the siege. Adam could only listen to the unfolding scheme, his aching skull preventing him from contributing to the plan.

At length the prelude to the abduction had been set.

“Then we agree,” said the duke. “I will ask the royal bride to dance.”

“Be sure to inform her about our plan,” from the pirate captain. “We don’t want her to cause a ruckus and resist us when we take her from the house.”

“Right.” A curt nod of the duke’s head. “I’ll ask her to feign faintness and then escort her off the dance floor.”

“Take her outside for a breath of air,” said Quincy.

“And if the prince’s henchmen thwart you, Damian?” wondered William.

“Break their noses,” suggested the belligerent Edmund.

“William has a point,” said the duke. “How will I avoid the henchmen?”

“Leave them to us,” said Black Hawk. “Just get the woman out of the public’s eye.”

“Then what?” from the duke.

“Adam will steal her away. He’ll keep clear of the guests—and the henchmen—to assure he isn’t recognized.”

The duke was thoughtful. “Sounds like a solid plan.”

“But you must return to the ball,” said Black Hawk. “The prince will suspect you had a hand in the abduction if you, too, disappear.”

The duke nodded. “I will stay then.”

“We will all stay,” said Black Hawk. “Only Adam will return to the castle with the woman.”

“Then let’s get ready for the ball.” The duke turned toward his brother. “Are you prepared, Adam?”

Adam slowly lifted off the lounge. “Yes, I’m ready.”

“You’re bleeding,” said Quincy.

Adam glanced down at his bandaged chest to note the blood seeping through the linen. “I’m fine.”

The men looked unconvinced.

“Perhaps you should remain behind,” sug
gested William. He appeared to be the most level
headed of the group.

“No,” said Adam. “I have to go.”

“We can steal the bride without you,” offered the duke. “She will be the center of attention and easy to spot.”

“No!” Adam clutched his midriff, rife with pain. “I
have
to go.”