Too Dangerous to Desire (8 page)

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t was a moonless night. Adam folded his hands behind his head and reclined across the sand. He stared at the bright stars and listened to the smooth swell of the water lapping against the shore.

What was he going to do with Evelyn?

He had attended to her immediate needs: food, shelter, and clothing. However, he had not de
vised a plan for her future welfare. She couldn’t live with him forever. It was improper. He needed to find her a secluded, more suitable, home. A chaperone, too. Perhaps even a husband? Now
that
would definitively put an end to Vadik’s wedding plans. But Adam was no matchmaker. He hadn’t the social graces to orchestrate a courtship.

There was so much he still wanted to do for Evelyn . . . so what if he didn’t survive the night? What would happen to her then?

A soft light beamed in the distance.

Adam watched the glowing speck brighten, un
perturbed. The tin lantern soon cast a soft sparkle
over the dark beach.

“Evening, Capt’n.”

Lieutenant Eric Faraday limped across the sandy turf.

“Good evening, Lieutenant.”

Adam rose to his feet and dusted the sand from his clothes.

“It’s a beautiful night for a pirate raid, isn’t it, sir?”

Adam glanced back at the cottage, a short dis
tance away. Lamplight flickered in the window; a shadow moved inside the house. “Yes, a beautiful night for a raid.”

“Is something the matter, Capt’n?”

Yes. Evelyn. Adam had sworn to shelter the young woman. But what if something happened to him tonight? Who would protect her?

A morbid thought came to mind. Adam imag
ined Evelyn brutalized, suffering under Vadik’s hand. The savage vision burned his blood. He de
sired to crush the villain’s throat. But he would settle for keeping Evelyn far from his reach instead.

And yet Adam had also vowed to apprehend Black Hawk. It was a rotten truth, but to honor one duty he had to be remiss in another.

Adam stalked away. He was very much aware of the obligation upon his shoulders. He had
made a sacred promise to capture the brigand in memory of Tess. And he loathed to break his vow. To fail Tess. To disappoint the loyal men who had served him so faithfully.

But what about Evelyn? What about the vow he had made to
her
?

Adam circled a small spot on the beach, mull
ing over the situation. At length, he wondered, “Is the crew ready?”

“Armed and ready, Capt’n.”

A well-prepared crew. A loyal lieutenant. Adam need not fear failing his “ward” by getting hurt and leaving her without a guardian. And he need not neglect his duty to Teresa, either. He would capture the pirate captain
and
return to safeguard Evelyn.

He was adamant.

“Then tonight we apprehend Black Hawk, Lieu
tenant . . . but there’s something I must do first.”

A knock at the door.

The needle was poised to poke through the fabric when Evelyn stilled.

Another rap. “Evie?”

She let out a short sigh. For just a moment, she’d thought . . .

No, she would not reflect on
him
anymore. Not tonight. She would think about more pleasant things instead, like her sister.

And Adam.

Flustered, she said, “Come in.”

Adam popped his head inside. “Still working on the drapes?”

He was rugged and handsome, and her heart thumped with more vigor at the sight of him. The low timbre of his voice made her shiver with plea
sure, too. “I’ve one panel complete. I’ll have the other ready shortly.”

Adam stepped inside the cottage. In the dim
ness he seemed to fill the small space, his burly figure awash in lamplight.

Again she admired him. But only for a moment before she wondered:
Why is he here so late?

A shiver of trepidation. “Is something the matter, Adam?”

“I have to leave.”

She dropped the stitching in her lap. She was breathless. “You’re leaving me?”

“It’s only for a short time: a matter of business.”

Her thoughts quieted to hear he was not aban
doning her. “What sort of business?”

“Captain’s business.” After a short pause he of
fered: “I made a vow a long time ago . . . to my late wife. And tonight I have the opportunity to fulfill my vow.”

To honor one’s wife? She was unfamiliar with the sentiment. It should please her to hear Adam’s
assertion, though; it proved he was not like the cruel Vadik.

And yet it did not please her. Not entirely. To realize the promise to his late wife, Adam would have to leave her . . . alone.

“Will you be all right for a few hours, Evie?”

She gripped the stitching tight. Without Adam nearby, she was by herself in the world.
He
might jump from the shadows and steal her away.

But she was not Adam’s keeper. She had no right to meddle in his affairs. He had been kind enough to let her stay in his home. She could not implore him to remain with her, however much she wanted to, and forsake the pledge he had made to his late wife. She had trespassed on his kindness enough.

“Yes, I’ll be fine,” she said, voice soft and shaky. She had endured the morning without him . . . but she’d had myriad chores to keep her active—and the daylight to chase away the shadows.

He scratched the back of his head in clear dis
comfiture. “There’s another matter I need to dis
cuss with you.”

He moved across the room to the chest at the foot of the bed. She watched him closely as he lifted the lid and rummaged through the contents before he surfaced with a small jar.

Even in the soft lamplight, Evelyn recognized the banknotes.

“This is for you, Evie . . . in case I don’t return.”

She dropped the stitching on the table and jumped from her seat. “You
are
deserting me!”

“No!”

He set the jar aside and approached her.

She gasped as a firm set of hands pinched her arms and caged her tight. An equally firm pair of eyes imprisoned her, deep blue in the shadows.

“I intend to return,” he said with a hard pas
sion. “The money is just a precaution.”

She was hungry for the man’s intimate touch; it offset the panic in her breast. But she soon gath
ered her thoughts to demand, “A precaution for what?”

“In case I slip and crack my head on a rock.”

He was funning with her. He wasn’t the clumsy sort. He wanted to keep her in ignorance; he wanted to avoid talking about the true nature of his business. But she could see the sincerity, the gravity in his expression.

“It’s dangerous business, isn’t it?”

He admitted with a light shrug: “A little.”

The muscles in her chest cramped, pinched her lungs. “What are you going to do?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Why?”

Because I don’t want to worry you even more.
It was there in his piercing stare, the answer.

“Don’t fret, Evie.” He cupped her cheeks to em
phasize, “You’ll be all right.”

But she was more worried about him. Why did he have to risk his life to honor his late wife?

“I’ll be back soon,” he said. “You’re safe here, you know?”

She nodded wordlessly, swallowed the rising alarm in her breast.

Adam eyed her closely. “You’ll stay away from the water?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He headed for the door. He offered her one more heartening look before he whispered, “Good night, Evie.”

She stared at the closed door.

Her feet twitched.

She wanted to run after him. She remained still instead.

Go to sleep.

Good idea. Sleep would while away the time until Adam returned . . . if he returned.

She hurried across the room to ignore the dark thoughts, ordered the clutter of thread and fabric. Once the cottage was put to right, she carefully di
vested the pretty dress Adam had gifted her and draped it over a chair.

Evelyn then picked up the lamp on the table and carried it over to the bedside. She crawled into bed, but did not extinguish the flame.

Warm under the woolly covers, she closed her eyes and envisioned a cheerful thought: her sister. But then the gruesome memory of her sister’s death intruded upon her reflection, and Evelyn started to quiver, thinking of
him
and what he had done to her kin.

Evelyn opened her eyes. She was alone. The shadows in the room flickered under the lambent light. Her eyes darted from one dark silhouette to another, the pressure on her breast smarting.

The covers twisted.

Evelyn hopped off the feather tick and crossed the room. She opened the sturdy sea chest at the foot of the bed and picked up the rapier. Then once more under the sheets, she cradled the sword against her chest and prayed.

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aven’s Cross: a patch of rocky coastline. Adam and Lieutenant Faraday waited at the meet point. The notorious Black Hawk and brigand crew had yet to arrive. It was late, near midnight. But for the dim glow of lamplight, dark as pitch, too. If the pirates were approach
ing, Adam couldn’t see them. Yet he wasn’t wor
ried. He trusted the two dozen armed shadows scattered across the hilltop, waiting for the signal to advance. His crew had never failed him in the past.

Still, if anything happened to him tonight, Evelyn would be without protection. He had of
fered her funds in case of a mishap; he was con
fident she would not be destitute. But she would still be alone—and frightened.

“Your weapon, Capt’n.”

Adam stared ahead, insensible to the lieutenant’s words.

“Capt’n?”

A nudge.

“What?” said Adam.

Faraday handed him the pistol. “Your weapon, sir.”

“Oh . . . thank you, Lieutenant.”

Adam tucked the gun behind his back.

“Is something the matter, Capt’n?”

“No.”

But Adam’s curt response did not silence the lieutenant. “It’s your ward, isn’t it, sir?”

Adam glanced sidelong at his trusted mate. “Why do you think that?”

“It’s my job to be suspicious.”

He snorted. “I thought it was your job to hunt pirates?”

Faraday shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “That, too.”

There was a brief lull in the exchange before Adam said, “Should anything happen to me, Far
aday . . .”

The lieutenant was quick to assert: “In the event of a calamity, I’d be honored to care for your ward.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

More at ease, Adam fixed his thoughts to the matter at hand—arresting a notorious band of buccaneers. He had waited four long years for this
moment. He should be savoring the anticipation of victory. Instead he was anxious to apprehend the brigands and head home.

There was a murmur of voices in the distance.
Adam girded himself for the confrontation.
“Do you have the blunt, Lieutenant?”
Coins jingled. “Aye, Capt’n.”
Splendid. The stage was set for a spurious
smuggling, for Adam and Faraday had to con
firm the pirates’ identities before announcing the signal to the crew. They had only one opportunity to accomplish their goal. No sense wasting it on a premature attack.

The figures advanced.
Adam counted six, maybe eight heads; it was
difficult to see in the darkness. Faraday lifted the tin lantern. “Who goes there?” The shadows stilled. One stepped forward. The lieutenant squinted. “Is that you, Black
Hawk?” The shadow remained quiet about the matter of
identity. “Do you have the blunt?” Faraday rattled the gold coins. “Well, toss it over,” demanded the shadow. The lieutenant shifted the tin lantern to illu
minate Adam’s features. “Capt’n here wants to do business with Black Hawk. Are you the pirate leader?”

There was a pause, then whispering.

“There’s been a change in plans,” said the shadow. “The capt’n will have to do business with me.”

Adam hardened.

“And
who
are you?” snapped Faraday.

“The man you’ll be doing business with.”

The shadow’s cheeky irreverence was intolera
ble. Adam wanted to yank his impertinent tongue out and dispense with the whole blasted proceed
ing. But he remained silent and still.

The lieutenant reiterated: “Where is Black Hawk?”

“Black Hawk doesn’t want to get involved with such petty business and risk his identity revealed.”

Adam glanced at Faraday in silent communication.

“I’m afraid we won’t be doing business together then.” The lieutenant raised his voice to carry over the crashing waves. “My capt’n here wants to be sure Black Hawk gets his money.”

“Black Hawk
will
get the money.”

“Not if a scalawag like yourself pockets the coin.”

The shadow snorted. “The pirate leader would have my head!”

“Aye, he’d be mighty piqued,” acquiesced Fara day. “But if you claimed my capt’n here reneged
on the agreement, took the cargo, and disap
peared, it’d be
his
head in peril.”

“I’m not going to swindle Black Hawk!”

“How do we know that? We don’t even know who
you
are! My capt’n doesn’t want a misunder
standing with the pirate leader. We either do busi
ness with Black Hawk or the meet is over.”

There was another round of whispering among the mysterious group of men. Soon, though, an
other shadow approached.

“Then let’s do business.”

Adam eyed the figure masked by darkness, lis
tened to the baritone voice. Was it Black Hawk? He couldn’t be sure. It had been so many years.

Faraday lifted the tin lantern, prepared to drop it and give the signal.

Adam raised his hand to stop the lieutenant. “Not yet,” he whispered. He had to be certain it was the pirate lord. If the tars stormed the beach now, it would betray their true identities. And the
real
Black Hawk would lift tail and run.

“Are you Black Hawk?” said Adam.

The figure was still, black in shadow. “Aye.”

Adam took in a sharp breath, a mixture of fury for the dishonorable brigand and cheer to be rid of him in his breast. “Come forward with the cargo.”

But two other shadows hauled the crate of rum instead.

Adam cursed under his breath. He eyed the flasks. “They look to be in good order.”

“The blunt,” said Black Hawk.

Adam nodded to Faraday.

The lieutenant tossed the purse.

Black Hawk captured the coins. He opened the satchel, lifted a piece of gold to his lips, and bit.

The pirate leader laughed. “Good doing busi
ness with you, Capt’n.”

Footsteps retreated.

“Capt’n,” whispered Faraday, eager to drop the lamp. “Shall I give the signal?”

“Wait, Lieutenant.” Then Adam shouted, “Shall we shake hands, Black Hawk?”

The pirate leader paused.

Adam had to see his face; he had to be sure it was Black Hawk.

After a moment of quiet, the shadow shrugged. “Why not?”

Black Hawk approached.

Adam did, too.

Faraday readied the lantern.

“Perhaps we will meet again, Capt’n.”

The pirate stretched out his hand, stepped into the dim light . . .

Adam seized his wrist, recovered the pistol from his back, and aimed it at the man’s head.

An uproar followed, the band of rogues advancing.

“Don’t move,” Adam ordered the shadows, “or I’ll shoot him!”

“Capt’n!” Faraday cried.

“It’s not him, Lieutenant!” Adam cocked the pistol, pointed it right between the charlatan’s eyes. “Who are you?”

“Black Hawk.”

“Horseshit!” Adam barked. “Who are you really?”

Adam was livid. He had chased the dastardly buccaneer for almost four years. He had ventured away from Evelyn to apprehend the brigand at last. And he had found a
fraud
in the pirate lead-er’s place!

“Where is Black Hawk?” Adam pressed the pistol to the impostor’s brow. “Tell me.”

“I am—”

“Don’t lie to me,” growled Adam. “I know what he looks like. I had the misfortune to be divested of my personal possessions by the rogue pirate and his crew, so
don’t
sham me!”

The trickster hesitated, clearly at a disadvan
tage. After a few stressful seconds, he sighed. “Very well. I’m not the pirate leader.”

“I know
that
,” Adam gritted. “Who are you?”

“The name’s Hagley.”

Adam eyed the miscreant. “Where is Black Hawk?”

“Dead.”

Adam sucked in a sharp breath at the stinging news. He was too late. The pirate rogue was al
ready gone. “Did you kill him?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know he’s dead?”

Hagley shrugged. “Well, there are stories—”

“Damn the stories!” cried Adam.

The corsair was like a ghost. Some whispered he had sailed away to hunt distant waters. Others believed him dead and trolling the nether regions of the earth. Adam believed neither tale. Black Hawk was an accomplished cutthroat. He was just good at hiding.

“Why
do you think he’s dead, Hagley?”

“Well, he must be dead. Otherwise where has he been all these years?”

Where indeed?

“And you’ve decided to take the villain’s place, is that it?” said Adam.

The scoundrel grinned. “Aye. It’s not easy to become the most feared buccaneer on the high seas. I figured, if the pirate leader don’t need it no more, why shouldn’t I take the title?”

Adam shouted another obscenity, turned on his heels, and stalked away.

“Don’t you want your cargo, Capt’n?” Hagley shouted.

“Keep it!”

Faraday fell in step beside Adam, limping. “Capt’n, what are we going to do now?”

“It’s over, Lieutenant.” He tucked the pistol back inside his trousers. “We lost our target. Go into the hills and tell the men to stand down, return to the ship.”

“Aye, Capt’n.” Faraday lifted the lantern. “Where are you going?”

“Home!”

An hour later, Adam was back at the cottage. It was well after midnight, but he was too riled up to sleep. He peeked inside the cottage through a window to see Evelyn resting in bed before he stalked the garden in lanky strides, deep in thought.

“Blast it!”

He had failed Tess. Again! Failed to capture the dastardly brigand as he had vowed.

It boiled Adam’s innards to think the
real
Black Hawk was still on the loose. Where was the mangy devil?

Adam kicked a garden stone and sent it into a nearby tree.

He didn’t believe for one moment the infamous pirate was dead. Where was the body? Surely the carcass of the notorious buccaneer was a prize worthy of public display?

But if he had perished in battle? Then where
was the ship and crew responsible for the pi-rate’s demise? It would be a victory worthy of celebration.

No. Black Hawk was a gifted cutthroat. He had ravished the sea for years. The villain was just hiding, resting. He would surface again.

There was too much notoriety surrounding the ill-famed pirate leader. Enough to hang him if he made a reckless mistake. A brief surcease in piracy offered the corsair a chance to escape the law’s wrath. The navy might give up the pur
suit, think the rogue dead—just as that charlatan Hagley believed. No one wanted to hound a ghost at sea. And all Black Hawk had to do was quietly enjoy the fruits of his spoils for a few years, and steer clear of trouble.

But Adam wasn’t going to give up the pursuit.

Ever.

He would see Black Hawk and the rest of the pirates on the gallows if he had to dedicate the re
mainder of his life to the chore of chasing the devil.

The blade sliced air.

Adam veered quickly. The tip of the rapier nicked his cheek, though; he could feel the blood.

He grabbed the shadow, knocked the blade from its grip—and stilled.

“Evie?”

She gasped. “Adam, is that you?”

“Evie, what the devil do you think you’re doing?”

She was shaking. “I heard a voice, a noise. I thought . . .”