Too Dangerous to Desire (5 page)

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ieutenant Eric Faraday eased himself into a seat, for a bullet to the hip had rendered him crippled and discharged from the navy. “Good to see you with a woman, Capt’n . . . a
very bonny woman.” Adam sighed. “I’m not
with
her, Lieutenant.” “Of course not, sir.” The lieutenant shifted his
leg. “My apologies for interrupting.”

“No, you don’t understand.” There was only one lass in Adam’s life: Tess. And he intended to remain faithful to her for the rest of his days. “She’s my . . . ward.”

“Your ward, sir?”
“Yes, my ward.”
Evelyn wasn’t really his ward, not in the legal
sense. But she was under his protection, so the cir
cumstance was similar. “Didn’t know you had a ward, sir.” “Well, I do.” He fixed him with a pointed look.

“And you’re to keep quiet about her, Lieutenant.”

“Aye, Capt’n.”

Adam nodded curtly. “You have news?”

“I do, sir . . . we have him!”

A fire lighted in Adam’s belly at the tempting thought, and he fisted his palms. “Are you sure, Lieutenant?”

“Aye, Capt’n.”

After years of hiding, eluding capture, had the dastardly brigand surfaced at last? Adam in
tended to apprehend Black Hawk, the infamous leader of a roving band of buccaneers. The very buccaneers who’d pilfered from him a cherished fob watch six years ago!

There was scant chance Adam would recover the rifled watch. The pirates had surely sold the purloined booty. But Adam intended to see Black Hawk and the rest of the brigands hang for the foul deed—in memory of Tess.

“Where is he, Lieutenant? I’m tired of chasing shadows at sea.”

The strife with his brother over, Adam now wanted pirate blood. For years he had hunted the waters in search of the notorious Black Hawk. But the dastardly cutthroat was elusive. A story sur
faced on occasion, a sighting. No firm evidence to confirm his whereabouts, though.

Faraday lowered his voice. “The village is rife with tales of ghosts, moving about the terrain under darkness—leaving crates of whiskey and
rum on the doorsteps of pubs! If the corsairs need to unload their pilfered goods, I say we buy the booty.”

“How do you mean?”

“I’ve had to haggle with a scalawag close to the pirate leader, but I’ve managed to set up a meet between you and Black Hawk.”

“When?”
“Tomorrow at midnight.”
“How theatrical,” said Adam dryly.
“Aye, Capt’n. The scoundrel Black Hawk does
have a flair for the dramatic.” The older man shifted his leg once more. “You’re to pose as a merchant captain, searching for cheap spirits to bootleg on the side.”

Adam mulled over the plan. A midnight gath
ering was perilous. Without a moon for guidance, he might easily lose his target in the blackness. Yet what other choice did he have?

“How’s the ship, Lieutenant?”
“Tip-top, sir.”
Adam might dislike an evening rendezvous,
but he had come too far to risk allowing the devil to slip between his grasp. “I want you to ready the men, Faraday.”

“Aye, Capt’n,” he was quick to assent. “Quietly, Lieutenant. I don’t want gossip to stir and my target to vanish.” “You can trust me, Capt’n.”

Adam did trust the proficient lieutenant. In
jured during the continental war, thirty-eight-year-old Eric Faraday, along with many of his contemporaries, had lived like a vagabond for years. Dramatic cuts to military personnel after the war with Napoleon had reduced most officers to paupers, beggars in some instances.

Adam had found the lieutenant and many other former naval shipmen in bleak circumstances. For a generous income, a good two dozen had agreed to aid Adam in his endeavor. And after years of searching, Adam and the motley crew of sailors would see their mission complete.

Tomorrow.

At midnight.

Adam stretched his hand across the table. “You’ve done an excellent job, Lieutenant.”

“Thank you, Capt’n.”

Only Lieutenant Faraday was aware of Adam’s true lineage. The rest of Adam’s crew believed him a gentleman with his money and manners, but knew no more about him or the reason behind his pirate quest. Yet the tars were keen to follow their captain anywhere, so long as he provided them with a steady income and a chance to avenge Black Hawk’s many victims.

Faraday limped toward the door. “I’ll let you get back to your . . . ward, Capt’n.”

“Lieutenant . . .”

“I’ll fetch you before the meet, sir.”

The door closed.

Adam dismissed the lieutenant’s cheeky quip, and rubbed his palms across the length of his face. Fire danced beneath his feet, the impatient jig the result of years of fruitless searching for the infamous buccaneer.

I have you at last.

There was nothing to stand between Adam and the ruthless brigand—except for his “ward.”

Adam looked out the window to spy the woman still chopping wood. What was he going to do with Evelyn while he went to apprehend Black Hawk? She spooked so easily. He needed to find some way to make her feel safe at the cottage while he was gone. But how?

“Bloody hell.”

Evelyn dropped the axe with gusto. Her fingers burned with energy. She minced the wood into kindling, thinking about Adam.

He was not just a quiet cottager, mourning the loss of his wife. He was a captain. He was aggres
sive. He was a man—with secrets.

Had she really expected to find a safe haven with him? The man had a dual nature—all men did. She knew that, too. So why had she agreed to stay at the cottage with him?

“You’re very proficient with an axe.”

She paused, startled.

Adam stood beside the house with a shoulder braced against the wall. He watched her closely, his stone blue eyes friendly.

His eyes!

She remembered now; she had trusted the look of kindness in his eyes. That’s why she’d agreed to stay at the cottage with him.

She wondered, “Where’s the lieutenant?”

“He’s gone.”

Adam approached her slowly. Her bones tingled as the expression in his eyes turned smoldering—aggressive.

With care he grasped the axe and curled back her fingers before he took the tool from her grip.

She was bewitched by his robust touch. It singed her skin, firm strokes that swelled the blood in her veins and made her heart throb.

Adam tested the weight of the axe. “It’s quite heavy.” He observed her closely. “You don’t look very fatigued, though.”

She was baffled by her peculiar reaction to the man, overwhelmed even by the warm—yet unfamiliar—sentiments gathering inside her. “I’ve chopped wood for years.”

“You’re strong, then?”

She gathered her brow. “I suppose so.”

“Wait here.”

Adam set the axe aside and disappeared inside the cottage. He returned shortly—armed with two blades.

Evelyn stared at the luminous steel, resplendent in the sunlight, and took an instinctive step back. “Where did you get the swords?”

“I keep the pair in the chest at the foot of the bed.”

“Why?”

“Because I might need them one day.”

He spoke with conviction, as though he was
sure
he would need them one day.

She shied away from the blade—and from Adam. “What are you going to do with the weapons?”

“I’m going to teach you how to dance—with a sword.”

She looked at him, bewildered. “But why?”

“So you won’t be afraid of
him
anymore.”

Would such a day ever come? She had to admit, it was an appealing idea. But she cringed in the face of violence. How was she going to learn to fight?

“I can’t, Adam.”

“Take it.” He lifted the blade higher. “You al
ready possess the strength to wield it; you only lack the skill. Let me teach you to protect yourself.”

She stared at the sword, tendrils of fright—and anticipation—wrapping around her spine.

You won’t be afraid of
him
anymore.

This was her one chance to learn how to defend herself. And despite her misgiving, her distaste for violence, she wasn’t ready to resign the oppor
tunity just yet.

Evelyn complied; she took the sword. “Good,” he said. “Get a feel for the weapon in your hand.” She maneuvered it from side to side, testing the weight, the girth.

He eyed her movements closely. After a few minutes, he moved beside her. “Let us assume the position.” He adjusted his form. “En garde.”

Evelyn wondered where Adam had learned the art of swordplay, but her curiosity was stifled as she eyed his feet and mimicked the man’s posture.

“No, not like that, Evie. Like this.”
He moved his right foot forward again.
She did, too.
He cocked his left foot sideways.
She did, too—and wavered.
“Steady,” he said.
Adam cupped her lower back to balance her. A
thrilling warmth stabbed her spine and quickly spread throughout her body.

Evelyn was startled by the intensity of her re
sponse to the man’s intimate touch. So startled, she very nearly dropped her sword.

“Stretch out your left arm, Evie. It will balance you.”

Evelyn wondered about that, but obeyed her teacher. She lifted her left hand.

“A bit higher, Evie.”

He nudged her elbow upward.

Another sharp prick of heat, making her arm tingle. Whatever was the matter with her? That baffling sentiment was stroking every nerve in her body again. It was difficult to concentrate on the lesson at hand when her limbs were shaky, her feet unsteady.

“Now spread your legs apart.”

She bristled at the command. Yet another dewy warmth beset her . . . right between her legs.

She couldn’t fathom the peculiar sensation. Blood rushed to her heart. A loud thumping re
sounded in her ears.

Woozy, Evelyn tried to obey Adam’s command, but his rough voice and muscular touch and robust essence were making it hard for her to do so. And his words! She licked her dry lips. The man’s words made her feel faint.

“Very good, Evie. Now bend your knees just a bit.”

She was already shaky. If she tried to crouch, even a little, she might drop straight to the green.

Adam placed his palm on her shoulder and
pushed her down. She buckled—but didn’t quite
collapse altogether.

“There,” he said. “Now for the footwork.”

Evelyn swallowed a groan. She was quivering, sweating slightly. Her legs were light, unstable. She didn’t think she could dance around with the blade.

There was an odd feeling creeping into her belly. A heat she had never known before. It alarmed her . . . intrigued her. She wanted it to disappear, yet she wanted to explore it a mite longer, too.

She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath to quell the conflicting emotions inside her. She was with Adam to learn how to fight, to defend herself. She must concentrate. Wayward thoughts only distracted her. She had a chance to protect herself from harm.

Take it!

“Are you ready, Evie?”

No!

“Yes,” she whispered. “What do I do next?”

The blade quivered in the air.

Adam offered her a curious eye.

“I’m fine,” she confirmed. “Please continue with the lesson.”

Adam lifted his own sword to mirror her pos
ture. “First we advance.”

He stepped forward.

She moved quickly—too quickly—the energy inside her overwhelming, and lost her footing.

A thick arm circled her waist to stop her fall.

He was flush with her; she could feel his breath stir the hairs on her head—and bring her to life. Such potent life. She could smell him. Feel the sinewy muscles at his midriff move against her arm. The rapid knock of his heart beat against her shoulder, and she closed her eyes to better feel the rhythmic thumps, to match her own heart’s tempo to his throbbing pulse.