Adam returned to the cottage, a bundle of fabric tucked beneath his arm. He had been gone a good two hours. He should not have left Evelyn alone at the house, but the woman had insisted upon the material for the drapes. And he had already promised to purchase the fabric, so how could he avoid the trip into town?
Besides, it would do her good to be alone for a short while. He would not be beside her always—he had pirates to round up—so she had to learn to be comfortable with the cottage, to feel safe inside even when he wasn’t around.
But he still hurried back to the seashore.
As Adam approached the dwelling, he heard the soft humming, the light splash of water.
Curious, he rounded the cottage—and stilled.
Evelyn rested on a wide wood stump, a bowl of water in her lap. She was dressed in only a chemise and dabbed at her skin with a moist towel.
Adam was unprepared to confront the woman in such a tantalizing lack of dress. True, she’d removed her clothes once before—in the course of drowning! He had overlooked the delicacy then. Now he had a moment to reflect, to observe her in the intimate act of bathing. And he was struck by the provocative sight.
She was blissful. With her eyes closed, she rubbed her neck, the line of her jaw. She moved the towel lower, to the tops of her breasts.
He had never noticed the deep swell of her breasts. But as she stroked the cleft of her bosom, he was privy to the lush round shapes, the delicious curves.
It was the shattered bowl, as Evelyn tossed it, that shattered Adam’s reverie. He quickly turned around to offer her privacy.
“I’m sorry—”
“I didn’t expect—”
The couple expressed sentiments simultaneously.
“I’m sorry,” said Adam again. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
She stammered, “I-I didn’t expect you home so soon.”
He heard her gather her clothes in a hurry. He now better understood why she had insisted he fetch the material for the drapes. The woman had wanted some time alone to see to her more personal needs. He was such an inconsiderate ass. He needed to offer her more privacy in the future.
Looking for some way to defuse the uncomfortable situation, he said in a casual manner: “I have the fabric for the drapes. I purchased a needle and thread. Shears, too.”
She struggled with her dress; he could hear her fretful movements. “I’ll get started on the stitching.”
“There’s no rush.”
Adam set the linen and sewing implements aside. It was only then, as he twisted his body, that he noticed the stiffness in his muscles and joints. He searched for a distraction. Any distraction.
“Something smells good,” he said.
She was covered in lemon soapsuds; the sweet citrus fragrance filled the air.
“In the house,” he was quick to clarify.
“Oh, it’s luncheon.”
He started for the door. “Why don’t I set the table.”
Inside the cottage Adam sucked in a deep breath to chill the heat in his belly. But the alluring image of Evelyn’s sultry figure was burned into his memory. And the more he thought about her, the more his own body burned.
He shouldn’t feel this way.
Not for a woman under his protection.
Not for a woman not his wife.
Adam headed for the dish rack and removed two plates. He busied himself inside the house with the table arrangement. So engaged was he with his task, he didn’t notice Evelyn standing in the doorway.
She was holding a handful of rubble. “I’m afraid the bowl is ruined.”
Her soot black hair was moist and twisted around one shoulder. And her dress! It was clinging to her wet form, highlighting those tempting curves even more.
Adam looked away from her. “Don’t worry about it.” He crouched beside the hearth and inspected the bread pan. “The cornbread looks ready.”
Evelyn placed the shattered pottery aside. “The potatoes smell ready, too.”
As she worked around him to prepare the meal, Adam sensed the heat from the flames—and the heat from Evelyn, as well.
He had not lived with a woman for a long time. Her presence in the house was going to take getting used to, that was all. The feelings inside him would settle, retreat with familiarity and time.
But the memory of her sweet breasts…
For a man of eight-and-twenty years old he had poor self-control, he thought with disgust.
Adam was in the woman’s way, so he stepped aside and took a seat next to the table. “Shall we continue with our lessons this afternoon?”
He had pressed her too hard in the morning. But he was still determined to teach her how to fight. The instruction would offer her confidence, keep her from jumping out of windows!
“Can we postpone the lesson for another day, Adam?”
She was hunched over the hearth with a ladle, scooping the boiling potatoes from the iron pot and placing them into a serving dish.
The very delicate arch of her backside quickly snagged his interest, and once more Adam had to tamp the inappropriate pleasure he found in admiring her.
He headed for the door. “I’ll return shortly.”
He captured her bewildered expression from the corner of his eye, but did not stop to explain his hasty departure.
He needed a good, cold dousing.
Chapter 8
It was a warm afternoon.
Evelyn grasped the soft blue fabric in her hands, cutting and stitching the material. She paused every so often to stare at the rhythmic swell of the water—her empty grave.
She should be at the bottom of the ocean right now, she reflected. Instead she was sitting on a grassy knoll, observing the waves and sandy beach, sewing drapes for Adam.
Adam.
Where was he? He had rushed off without a snippet of food. That had been a half hour ago. Was he all right?
But it was foolish for her to fret over him: a robust man who danced light with a sword. What danger could possibly befall him?
A figure darted through the garden, so quick Evelyn gasped and dropped her sewing. She searched the landscape once more, but the movement was gone.
He’s found me!
Her pulse thumped loud in her ears; it washed away the steady sound of the rolling tide. She stumbled across the grassy knoll, treaded quietly along the beach.
Where was Adam?
With care she watched the cottage, the surrounding garden for more life. But only a fresh sea breeze teased the leaves and caressed the flowers. Otherwise the terrain appeared still, peaceful.
But Evelyn knew better. He was hiding somewhere. Skulking behind the woodshed. Or perhaps he had sneaked inside the house?
Each step shaky, she crossed the beach. She wanted to call out to Adam, but something strangled her voice, closed her throat.
Feet tangled, Evelyn tripped. Dazed, she stared at the pair of trousers twisted around her ankles.
Adam’s trousers.
Quickly she tossed the article of clothing aside and bounced to her feet. She was sweating. Shaking. The sight of more clothes—a shirt, leggings, boots—crushed her spirit.
He had thrashed Adam.
The apparel was tossed across the sand in a wild fashion, ripped apart in the heat of a struggle. But where was Adam’s body?
“Adam!” she croaked.
Her voice so raw and tight, she had to struggle to breathe.
Adam was gone.
She was alone.
With him.
Evelyn started to move toward the ocean, her only means of escape. She retreated into the salty water; she was already doused with tears and sweat.
She ignored the strong current and the bark of the sea ordering her back to the beach. Only the thought of evading him filled her mind.
Evelyn maintained her steady backward march into the ocean. She still trained her wide eyes on the distant cottage, searching for the devil. But he remained elusive.
I won’t
let you take me, she thought. I won’t suffer my sister’s fate!
Evelyn screamed as two thick arms circled her waist from behind and all but crushed her bones.
The sea roared, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Adam!
He hoisted her out of the water and climbed the steady ascent to land. He set her on the sand with unceremonious roughness before he grabbed her shoulders.
“Are you mad, Evie?!”
She gasped for breath, bemused. He was like a merman from the water, soaked and near nude. Only a set of drawers protected him from immodesty.
But Evelyn was too overcome with delight at the sight of him to notice the man’s lack of attire. “You’re alive.”
“Of course, I’m alive.” Adam’s stone blue eyes pierced her with a hard stare. “Why the devil would I be dead?”
“You’d disappeared.” She couldn’t see him very well through her tears, and blinked to clear away the moisture. “I saw your clothes tossed everywhere.”
“I went for a swim.”
“But I thought he had killed you.”
He cupped her cheeks in a firm hold. “Why would you think that?”
“Because he’s here!”
Adam bristled. “Where?”
“I don’t know; he’s hiding somewhere. But I saw him dash through the garden a minute ago.”
“Wait here.”
Adam started for the cottage.
She grabbed him by the forearm. “You can’t go back there! He’ll kill you!”
In a moment of panic, she didn’t think Adam might actually defeat him. All she could think about was being alone—again—if anything happened to Adam.
“Don’t worry about me.” He pressed a finger against her nose. “And don’t wade in the water again.”
Evelyn watched him bound across the beach. As he neared the cottage, he hunkered and moved across the terrain with more stealth before he vanished behind a cluster of bushes.
She dropped to her knees, muscles weak. Her heart thumped wildly, every beat a sharp pang. She pressed her fingers to her lips to keep the sobs away.
And then the crushing pressure squeezing her breast lifted.
Adam appeared. He sauntered across the beach with a confident gait…a stray dog at his heels.
At first Evelyn didn’t understand the appearance of the animal, her mind still gripped with images of him. But as Adam and the beast approached, her thoughts scrambled and formed a new conclusion: she had witnessed the dog dart across the garden.
Evelyn dropped her head in bewilderment. Was it right to laugh at her own folly? Or should she weep? She did both.
The lost mutt was spooked by her cries and choking laughter, and soon wandered off again. But Adam maintained a steady advance.
With the threat to her person no more, Evelyn took a moment to reflect upon the movement of muscle heading straight for her. With little attire to cloak his masculine form, Adam was like his namesake coming from the garden in glorious virtue.
Evelyn wiped the tears from her eyes. She had never observed a man in an improper way. The impulse to do so had never crossed her mind. In truth, she had done her best to avoid the male sex for most of her life.
And yet she was struck by Adam’s virility. Her heart beat at a swift tempo, though the panic in her breast was gone. It beat now for another, more sensuous, reason.
Adam dropped to his knees in front of her and took her cheeks between the large palms of his hands. “You are mad, aren’t you, woman?”
“No, I thought…”
Words deserted her. The energy, the sinewy strength thrumming through him was potent and easy to feel, and it stirred her senses and scrambled her wits.
“I know what you thought, Evie.”
He leaned in.
The proximity to his lips was intoxicating; she could not take her eyes off his sensual mouth.
“But if you ever go near the water again, I’ll drown you myself.”
Hardly the comforting words she had expected to hear from him. But then again, she had noticed he had a tendency to become irate whenever she neared the ocean.
Adam set off to collect his scattered clothing.
Bemused, Evelyn tried to gather her own scattered senses, to sort out the peculiar loss she was suffering at his separation. But her eyes, her thoughts shifted to Adam once more.
He snatched his trousers from the beach and stepped into the pair with a jerking movement. She might have been alarmed by his clear vexation, if she wasn’t so distracted by the sight of his sturdy legs.
A shameful inclination to press her fingers over his strapping limbs consumed her. A sudden desire to know him more intimately possessed her. She beat back the alarming and inexplicable passions, tried to put her thoughts to right. But when he next stretched his thick arms above his head, the muscles across his chest and belly elongating, and yanked the shirt over his midriff, she couldn’t prevent the breath of disappointment at seeing him covered from passing between her lips.
Briskly he returned to her side and tugged at her arm. “Let’s go.”
She was still flustered and a bit shaky after admiring him dress, but she scrambled to her feet. “Where are we going?”
He dragged her. “To the cliff.”
Chapter 9
A balmy breeze teased Evelyn’s skin, as she took in the salty tang of ocean air. “Why are we here?”
“Because this is where I first spotted you.”
Adam stood beside her on the cliff in rumpled attire. He had hauled her up the mountain so quickly, he hadn’t the opportunity to tuck in his shirt. The hardy hike had also put a deep glow in his already bronzed skin and a pulsing life in his eyes.
Her heart pulsed, too: the effect of being so close to him. Why did he shake her senses so? Together they overlooked the vast and restless ocean.
“You were more afraid of him than death two days ago.” With a firm hand, Adam tipped her chin upward. “Are you going to run to the sea every time you see a shadow or hear a knock at the door?”
She turned away from him, a great upheaval in her soul. “You don’t understand, Adam.”
“Then make me understand.”
He stood behind her, all brawn. It was so easy for him to confront his troubles, she thought. He had a hammer for a fist and could crush his adversary with little effort. She didn’t even have the strength of mind to defeat him in her nightmares.
“You can ease your fears, Evie.”
She was restless like the ocean. “How?”
“Admit them aloud; they won’t have such power over you then.”
“It sounds too simple.”
He squeezed her shoulder. “It’s a start.”
The man’s comforting caress made her shiver with inexplicable delight. She was still baffled by her peculiar response to his often innocent touch.
But she was also encouraged by it.
“I don’t know where to begin,” she said. The past few years of her life had been a whirlwind of confusion. She was strapped for words.
“Start at the beginning,” he said in a low voice. “Where are your parents?”
With a heavy breath, she sorted through her chaotic thoughts to admit: “My mother is dead.”
“And your father?”
“After my mother’s demise, Father took to his room. He rarely ventured out, he was so cheerless.” She reached for the pendant at her throat and twisted her fingers around the gold heart. “He started to drink.”
Evelyn remembered the inebriated hollers of madness every night, the foxed footsteps of a grief-filled husband, trolling the house in search of a wife’s lost ghost.
“He started to gamble, too,” she said.
And then life turned really bleak. The comforts Evelyn and her sister, Ella, had grown accustomed to started to vanish, one by one, the deeper their father descended into debt.
“It wasn’t long before we had very little left. A leaky roof, really.”
&n
bsp; “And you had to let the servants go?” he guessed. “Like your cook, Mrs. MacFaden?”
“Father could not afford to pay her anymore. Ella and I tended to household chores after that.”
“So that’s why you can cook?”
“And sew.”
“And chop wood?”
Evelyn shrugged. “Someone had to do it.”
Adam stepped forward, meeting her gaze. “You lived a comfortable life before your mother died and your father took to gambling, didn’t you?”
She drew solace from the look of understanding in his eyes. “Yes, but Father didn’t want to live in poverty anymore.”
“Did he stop gambling?”
“No…he sold Ella.”
Adam took in a sharp breath. “He did what?”
Evelyn swallowed the sob slowly forming in her throat. “Father met a rich foreigner who liked unique beauty.”
“Him?”
She nodded. “He offered to pay off Father’s gaming debt in return for Ella’s hand in marriage.”
“Who is he, Evie? Tell me his name.”
It was like summoning a curse, his name. But she gathered her valor and whispered: “Vadik.”
For a moment she believed Vadik might appear, but she soon dismissed the wild thought as ridiculous fancy. Yet still her fingers trembled.
“Vadik took Ella to his home on the continent. I last saw my sister on her wedding day, three years ago.”
“Did she write?”
“Sometimes…but she had to sneak the letters to the post. Vadik did not want her to communicate with me or our father. Not that our father cared about Ella. Only I cared.”
“Your father continued to drink?”
“And gamble. He pretended Ella was happily wed and never mentioned her name again.” A sharp cramp seized Evelyn’s heart. “Ella’s letters were so gloomy. She was in such pain.”
The tears spilled at last.
“And there was nothing I could do to help her,” she sobbed. “I had no money to travel abroad and sneak a visit with her. Father never offered me a coin; he’d gambled most of it away a second time. And there was no one I could ask for help. I had no other family or friends. After my mother died and my father turned wild, all respectable company deserted us. I was alone.”
Alexandra Benedict - [Too] Page 6
