Too Dangerous to Desire (23 page)

It was a grief he was sure the duke could not endure.

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dam lifted the lamp, illuminating the stairwell. He ignored the chill biting his spine and descended the spiral steps—into hell.

A musty smell greeted him, an overwhelming blackness, too. Childhood memories surfaced. The echo of sobs filled his ears.

Adam remembered listening to the cries as a child: his brother’s cries.

At the bottom of the abyss, Adam once more lifted the lamp and searched the abandoned cells, looking for the duke. At the end of the passageway, he spotted the man’s lone figure squatting in a dark room with his back braced against a wall.

Adam was not surprised to find his kin in the dungeon; the duke was very familiar with the grisly surroundings.

“Would you like some company?”

Adam did not wait for an invitation to sit. In
stead he crouched beside his brother and set the lamp on the icy floor.

Once settled, Adam glanced at the slimy walls and the faint scratches embedded in the stone. The juvenile script spelled out a name: Damian.

The duke had endured many a wretched stay in the dungeon. As a child, he had suffered under their father’s cruelty. Chained in the dank dun
geon as a form of punishment for any minor grievance, Damian had grown accustomed to the forbidding abyss. He had sobbed less and less with each imprisonment. And eventually he had not sobbed at all.

Adam still remembered those ghastly child
hood days. He had not been able to help his brother then, but perhaps now . . .

Eyes fixed forward, Damian said with a rough voice, faint with stress and exhaustion, “How did you do it?”

Adam eyed his kin and wondered, “Do what?”

“Live . . . after Teresa died.”

Adam looked away. He pressed his head against the damp wall and breathed deep to still the hard thumps of his heart. “I have you to thank for that.”

“Me?”

“I wanted to kill myself after Tess drowned . . . but I hated you even more than I craved death.”

Fortunately, Damian wouldn’t have to confront such a fate. The duchess would live. She had even
tually delivered the afterbirth, as the doctor had predicted. Her fever had broken shortly thereaf
ter. Now she appeared to be doing better.

But her near death had devastated the duke. So much so, he now searched for comfort in the one place that had caused him so much pain in the past: the dungeon.

Adam understood the reason, however. The dungeon’s dark surroundings mirrored the duke’s dark heart.

Damian was quiet for a moment before he said, “Do you still hate me?”

There was a sharp pain in Adam’s breast, a phantom knife twisting into his heart. “No, I don’t hate you anymore.” He had not hated the duke for a long time. “But I used to feed off the hate. Once I stopped loathing you, though, I thought my soul would starve.”

“What happened?”

“I started hating pirates.”

The duke snorted. “It’s good to know someone else in the castle resents them as much as I do.”

Adam grinned. “I despised Black Hawk for stealing the fob watch Tess had given me. I chased him for years, seeking vengeance . . . and he was here the whole time.”

“Tormenting me.”

“But I can’t hate Black Hawk anymore, either,” said Adam. “I can’t hate any of the pirates. With
out their help, Evelyn might still be suffering under the prince’s cruelty.”

There was another short pause before the duke said, “Evelyn will leave for America soon.”

“I know.”

“And I understand you won’t be living with her in the New World?”

“Did she tell you that?”

“Yes.”

Adam had yet to speak with Evelyn about the matter of her possible pregnancy. Once he did, though, he was confident the woman would change her mind about letting him stay with her in America.

“The matter isn’t decided yet,” said Adam. “Evelyn and I have more to discuss.”

“Will you marry her?”

Blood pounded in Adam’s ears. “No.”

“You could be happy with her. Teresa was the joy of your past. Evelyn could be the joy of your future.”

Adam dismissed the frighteningly tempting idea with a succinct: “I will never marry again.”

“Why not?”

“I made a vow to honor Tess forever.”

“The vow was broken upon her death.”

“Death is not a barrier.”

Besides, Adam did not deserve to be happy.

Lightning cracked . . . fire raged . . . screams filled the stormy night.

Adam closed his eyes to shut out the dreadful memory. He had failed Tess; he had let her die . . . He deserved to be alone.

“How will you live then?” said the duke. “Who will you hate now?”

“Prince Vadik.”

It filled Adam’s heart with dark energy, the thought of the prince. He was determined to keep the fiend away from Evelyn; she would not meet the same fate as her hapless sister.

“But the prince is Evelyn’s demon, not yours,” said Damian.

“No, he’s mine!”

“Your demon is guilt. I know you, Adam; I know you feel guilty for Teresa’s death. It’s just easier to fight Evelyn’s demon instead of your own.”

Adam bristled at the suggestion, for it implied he was chasing the wrong villain. And yet how could that be? Vadik was evil. Adam was
not
mis
guided in his efforts to combat the devil.

“Trust me, Adam. I learned that truth the hard way. I, too, chased pirates for years. I wanted to destroy them for destroying you.”

Adam wasn’t surprised to hear his brother’s assertion. The whole of England believed pirates
had destroyed the
Hercules
in a raid, for it had been in all the papers.

The story had reached the public by way of the captain’s cabin boy. The poor chap had survived the wreckage a mere few hours by clinging to a piece of debris before he was rescued by a pass
ing ship. Although a fever took his life, the boy related the tale of the sinking before his passing— the wrong tale. The kid must have confused the pirate attack with the storm, thinking the thunder and fire aboard ship cannon blasts. It was a simple mistake to make in a delirious state of mind; the two events had been but hours apart. And there had been no one to challenge the boy’s account— until Adam had re-entered society—so pirates had taken the blame for the sinking.

“It was easier to loathe the brigands rather than face the loathing I had for myself,” said Damian. “I first met Belle while hunting for her brothers. And I almost lost her because of it; I almost killed her kin.”

“What stopped you?”

“I loved Belle more than I hated her brothers . . . a good thing, too, since they didn’t kill you.”

Adam chuckled. “She really turned your life upside-down, didn’t she?”

“Yes, she did . . . and I’m very grateful to her for it.”

Adam thought about Evelyn, and how she had turned
his
life upside-down, too.

“Damian?”

“Yes?”

He paused before he said, “I’m sorry I stabbed you.”

“I forgive you.”

“Why?”

“Because we used to be friends,” said the duke. “Because it wasn’t supposed to be like this, and I want to make it right.”

“You’re a better man than I.” And it was true. There was a time when the very thought would have seemed preposterous, but sitting in the dun
geon after all the recent turmoil, Adam knew the words were true.

“You’re not a bad man, Adam. I think it’s time you learn to forgive yourself for Teresa’s death.”

But Adam didn’t think such a thing was possible.

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velyn tiptoed through the dark castle, deep in thought. Two days ago the duchess had come close to death. Now she rested, recovering her strength. Tears welled in Evelyn’s eyes at the memory of Mirabelle’s sobs, her fierce battle to survive and not abandon her husband and children. The moving encounter would stay with her forever.

But Evelyn spilled tears for another reason, too.

The sound of frothy waves stirring against a ragged coastline filled her ears. She reminisced about the salty smell of the ocean, the sight of dark and heavy storm clouds rolling across the heav
ens. At one time she had been willing to throw her life away, to surrender to her grief . . . to welcome death. But no more. After she had witnessed the duchess struggle for survival with every breath, Evelyn was more determined than ever to fight for her life, too.

She stopped beside a closed bedroom door. The fine mahogany wood gleamed under the luster of a vigorous polish and warm candlelight.

It was late; most of the household was asleep. She was careful to keep quiet. She didn’t want to rouse a maid or a footman; she didn’t want anyone to see her standing before
this
particular door.

Evelyn took in a deep breath and wiped the tears from her eyes. She knocked lightly on the door.

Silence.
She knocked again.
More quiet.
Someone might discover her if she continued
to rap on the door and make noise, she thought, so she lifted the latch and stepped inside the room—uninvited.

The bedchamber was poorly lit, and she
squinted to make out the shadows. “Adam?” she whispered. “Where are you?” She heard the bedsheets rustle. “What are you doing here?” he said gruffly. “I’m sorry to wake you, but I . . . I want to
learn.” “Learn what?” he rasped. The man’s heavy frame shifted from the feather
tick. As he tweaked the low-burning oil lamp beside the bed, the more vibrant glow illuminated the room—and the bed.

Her heart fluttered.

Adam was dressed in breeches—only breeches—and resting atop the covers. It was im
possible to ignore the wide breadth of his shoul
ders in the smoldering light. Chest nude, it was impossible to ignore the solid build of the man’s muscles, too. Nor could she disregard the wounds at his breast.

He had done so much for her, struggled for
her
life when she was too weak to do it for herself. But no more.

As he stared at her with those somnolent eyes, a shiver tickled her spine. She briefly lost her voice before she gathered her senses and remarked, “I want to learn how to swim and use a sword and engage in fisticuffs.”

She was ready now to learn all he had offered to teach her before. She was tired of cowering at the prince’s feet. She was determined not to let the royal devil torment her anymore, the way he had tormented her sister.

“And you came here to tell me this now?” Adam rubbed his brow slowly. “This couldn’t have waited until morning?”

“I didn’t want to waste time,” she said, her words shaky.
Or lose courage.
“I’ll be leaving for America in a fortnight.”

He looked at her with hard eyes. She marked the shift in his lazy manner. He was stiffer, his lips
pressed firmly together. Was he still angry with
her for refusing his protection? She supposed so.

She sniffed the air.

Brandy?

She spotted the empty spirits bottle beside the bed. “Are you foxed?”

“I hope so.” There was heat in his eyes—aimed straight for her. “You shouldn’t be in here, Evie.”

Tremors moved along the curve of her back. “No, I suppose I shouldn’t be in here if you’re foxed. I’ll go.”

She hastened to leave the room. Her hand was on the latch when Adam was suddenly behind her. He braced an arm against the door to prevent her from opening it.

His cheek brushed her hair softly. “Why did you
really
come here?”

Her eyes seemed heavy, and she fluttered her lashes closed at his sensual touch. The spicy scent of his musk teased her senses with equal passion. “I told you—”

“I don’t believe you.” Lips beside her ear, he was curt—but his breath stirred the sensitive skin at her neck, arousing her and making her muscles flex in expectation of more. “I think you came here looking for a bedding.”

She gasped. “I most certainly did
not
!”

But perhaps
he
was hoping for a bedding. She’d experienced firsthand from her father that an ine
briated man had a loose tongue—and often ex pressed his most honest thoughts.

Swiftly Evelyn raised her heel—and stomped on Adam’s bare foot.

He cursed and hopped backward before he landed on his rump with wicked force.

She winced and quickly knelt beside him. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He was massaging his foot and glaring at her, more sober now. “So what
did
you mean to do?”

“I want you to know I’m determined to learn how to defend myself. I won’t shirk from my les
sons anymore.”

He humphed and struggled to stand.

She helped him to his feet.

He hobbled toward the bed and sat down on the edge. “We’ll continue the lessons in the morn
ing. I’ll meet you in the garden.”

“Thank you, Adam.” Again she moved toward the door, but this time she stopped herself from leaving. “Did you drink the whole bottle of brandy?”

He sighed and stretched back across the feather tick. “I think so.”

“Why did you drink it?”

“I had a very revealing chat with my brother today, and I came to a very depressing conclusion.”

“Which is?”

“I will never be happy.”

Evelyn moved away from the door and ap
proached the bed. For a long time she had sus
pected a darkness in Adam’s heart. She had not been mistaken in that regard, but she had failed to realize the true nature of that darkness. She had feared Adam. Falsely. Believed him to be a vio
lent man. But he was not filled with hate or anger anymore. He was filled with guilt. Guilt over the death of his wife.

She picked up the coverlet folded at the foot of the bed and draped it across his frame. “Good night, Adam.”

A robust hand grabbed her wrist. “Are you sure you didn’t come in here looking for a bedding?”

“I’m sure!”

He sighed and let go of her wrist. “Pity.”

“You’re confused, Adam.” She took a shaky step back from the bed. “You’re drunk.”

“Not that drunk, Evie.”

A tight knot formed in her belly at his sultry words. He was sober enough to know he wanted her, and just foxed enough to admit the truth aloud.

Under the warm glow of candlelight, Evelyn stared at the sharp folds of muscle across his firm chest. She listened to the heavy, yet lyrical sound of his breathing, and tried to tamp the wild thumps of her heart at the sensual sight of him.

“Are you still here, Evie?”

She started at the rough way he said her name— and blushed to be caught admiring him.

Mortification swallowed her whole, and she skirted from the bedside.

But she was able to take only two steps before a set of sturdy arms circled her waist and dragged her back to the bed.

Evelyn gasped as she found herself embraced by the soft feather tick—and Adam’s hard chest.

“Adam, what are you doing?!”

“Bedding you.”

Her fingers tingled, her toes curled at the man’s hot words. Oh, and his touch! It stirred her senses to sweet life, making her heart ache for him in the most critical way.

“You taste good, Evie.”

He kissed a tender spot of skin below her ear, as he moved his hips to press against the swell of her bottom.

Evelyn closed her eyes in quiet ecstasy, too abashed to voice the dark cravings brewing inside her.

But Adam sensed her desire.

He clinched her waist with one arm, holding her snug, and caressed her throat, her bustline with his other hand, stirring the flames of want in her belly.

Evelyn opened her eyes. She stared across the
room at the groping shadows on the wall, aroused by the spectacle. With Adam behind her, she didn’t need to look into his eyes, to blush or feel awkward, to betray her impolite yearnings to his face. She could just enjoy the sensuous experience, take pleasure in his warm kisses and wanton caresses.

Adam’s large hand slipped along the peak of her hip, fingered its way to the bend in her knee, then started up again—dragging her skirt along the way.

Evelyn bit back a sigh at his fiery touch; it burned through the fabric of her dress, making her sweat.

“You feel good, too, Evie.”

She shivered as the soft material of her frock rubbed against her flesh and gathered at her waist.

She was nude from the waist down, and Adam was quick to stroke her bare bottom, to knead the plump flesh, which she undulated into his cupped hand.

“So good,” he whispered roughly.

Adam slipped his fingers between her but
tocks, rubbed the tender and damp flesh between her legs.

Evelyn heaved the deep sigh she was holding back, each gasp a soft cry of bliss, urging him to work harder, faster to give her release.

He did as she bade.

After a brief surcease to relax the buttons of his trousers, Adam positioned himself behind her again and lifted her leg.

Evelyn seized, aware of his intent.

“Let me in, Evie.” He rocked his hips against her backside, disarming her. “Let me fill you completely.”

She couldn’t hold back the groan anymore—or resist his sweet demand.

Adam slipped inside her, so deep. She cried out to feel the thick muscle throbbing between her legs, teasing her already pulsing arousal.

Evelyn reached back to grab his hips as he thrust against her buttocks. She needed the sup
port, the intimacy of his touch.

He filled her again and again; moved with hunger, quick and hard.

Her heart pounded as the desire inside her ballooned and stretched. She was dizzy with de
light. The most sensitive part of her aching for satisfaction.

Evelyn gasped as piercing pleasure poured through her veins. Adam groaned with release soon thereafter.

Breathless and content, they both remained on the bed, trapped in an embrace.

Evelyn eyed the shadows on the wall again, now subdued. She smiled. She couldn’t help it. There
was something about the closeness, the thrill of
intimacy that always lifted her spirits.

“Marry me, Evie.”

Her smile fell. The heat quickly cooled from her limbs, and she struggled to gather her lazy thoughts.

“What did you say, Adam?”

He said into her hair, “I want you to be my wife.”

“Why?”

She blurted out the request without think
ing. Rather uncouth, but it
was
the most pressing matter on her mind. He couldn’t possibly care for her. She had witnessed the devotion he still had for his late wife firsthand. So why did he want to wed her?

“Because you might be pregnant, Evie.”

Yes, of course. His duty.

Evelyn wriggled in the man’s arms. “Let me go, Adam.”

He did without protest.

She sat up and smoothed her dress over her legs. “I think it’s best if I return to my room.”

“I’ll announce our engagement in the morning.”

“Don’t bother.”

She headed for the door, her toes still twinkling after their heated tumble in bed.

Adam was on his feet, too. “We must make the announcement before we leave for America.”

She opened the door. “I’m not going to marry you, Adam.”