Alexandra Benedict - [Too]

by Too Dangerous to Desire

  “But they’re pirates, Damian!”

  “Retired pirates,” said the duke. “With a duchess 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 protect 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 another brigand.

  The duke explained: “There is a royal ball tonight. Prince Vadik of Moravia is engaged to marry Lady Evelyn Waye. But the prince is a villain; 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 misconception 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 nothing 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 happening 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 introductions: “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. “Captain 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 throbbing 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,” suggested William. He appeared to be the most levelheaded 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.”

  “Adam—”

  “You don’t understand, Damian. Evelyn is terrified of the prince. She will be even more spooked if a horde of strange men try to whisk her away. She won’t believe you’re trying to help her. But she will believe you if she sees me.”

  The pirates still looked troubled. It was a gamble to bring along an injured collaborator. If Adam failed and their scheme was exposed, they might all lose their heads.

  But Adam would not fail.

  He would will his injuries away when the time to rescue Evelyn approached. He had suffered great hardship before and survived. He would again.

  “We’ll need weapons,” said William. “Should anything go wrong.”

  “And fancy robes,” quipped Quincy.

  The duke approached his brother. “Let’s get some food into you first, then dress your wounds again. I’ll give you a coat and a pair of trousers for the ball.”

  Adam looked at his brother, grateful.

  “Head out,” ordered Black Hawk.

  The pirates moved toward the door.

  “And nobody tell Belle about our plan or she’ll want to come with us,” said Quincy.

  “Agreed,” the men said in unison; the duke, too.

  It looked as if Mirabelle, the Duchess of Wembury, would not be apprised of the situation. Although Adam didn’t believe a woman in the way of childbearing would want to come along, anyway.

  As the pirates filed out of the study, Adam whispered to his brother, “Are you sure we can trust them, Damian?”

  “No,” returned the duke. “But what choice do we have?”

  Adam wasn’t mollified. “They’re pirates! Fine
breeches won’t be able to hide their boorish manners.”

  “The Hawkins brothers have attended a ball or two since retiring from piracy. The ton is willing to overlook their “merchant” ways because of their connection to me. In truth, the younger brothers are considered quite a catch.”

  Adam grimaced at the thought of some unsuspecting debutante setting her cap for a buccaneer.

  “It’s still a great risk to bring them along, Damian.”

  “It would be an even greater risk if we left them behind.”

  True.

  Blast it!

  Chapter 15

  The ball was in full swing.

  Adam stood off to the side, discreet. With a glass of champagne in his hand, he observed the more than five hundred guests making merry in the grand ballroom.

  It was a sumptuous event, filled with the crème de la crème of society. The house itself was akin to a palace, fitted with marble flooring resplendent under brilliant candlelight. So much lavishness. And it all belonged to the Moravian throne: a grand state dwelling for visiting royals or diplomats. The perfect setting to host a regal engagement ball.

  The burns at his breast blistering, Adam girded against the pulsing pain and glanced across the heads of so many familiar lords and ladies, searching for Evelyn.

  But he had yet to find her.

  He skimmed his eyes over the crowd again. King George IV was in attendance; the monarch was easy to spot with so many courtiers vying for his attention. Adam went on to spy his brother at the other end of the room, socializing with a group of acquaintances. Next he eyed Black Hawk, lurking in the shadows. The pirate captain maintained a steady watch over the horde of guests, too. Every so often, though, he signaled to his brothers with a simple blink or nod to carry on with the scheme.

  The rest of the pirates were scattered across the ballroom. Quincy and Edmund, the two youngest brigands, were dancing. It was a sight indeed, for the buccaneers had mastered the waltz. William, the second eldest of the lot—as Adam had later learned—stood near the threshold in cordial conversation with a group of adoring ladies.

  It was really rather incredulous, the spectacle of four pirates mingling with the ton. Well, three. Black Hawk maintained a social distance. He apparently frightened the lofty ladies, ogre that he was. But then again, the other pirates weren’t really mingling, either. Adam observed each brigand silently return the captain’s signal. Even with their easy grins, it was clear the men were hard at work to find Evelyn.

  But where was she?

  Adam’s heart pounded in sync with the swift music. A cold chill gripped his throat, like a hand squeezing the breath from his lungs.

  Had the devil Prince Vadik harmed Evelyn already? Beat her to death in a blind rage? A punishment for deserting him?

  It stirred an even greater welter of pain than the burns, the thought of Evelyn in agony…dead.

  Adam stomped the ballooning grief in his gut. The duke was approaching, and he smoothed his features into a bland smile to maintain the ruse.

  “Where is she, Adam?”

  The duke stopped a short distance away from his brother. He appeared comfortable in manner, but Adam sensed the restless energy stemming from him. Or was it Adam’s own restless energy bouncing off the duke?

  “I don’t know where she is,” said Adam, and took a swig of champagne to soothe the fire in his belly. “She should be here, though.”

  “I met her father, the Earl of Bewley.”

  Adam hardened to hear the other scoundrel’s name. “Where is he?”

  The duke gestured with his head across the room. “Over there. By the window.”

  Adam spied the old man standing off to one side. He briefly lifted his bloodshot eyes to communicate with a passing guest, but then quickly returned to his stoic posture.

  The earl was dead, soulless. It was apparent in his manner, his quiet and vacant expression. Addicted to drink and coin and whatever other vices befall a man, he was a mere shell, void of energy or life. No wonder he had sold another daughter. The man had no wits left to reason with. No heart to break.

  The duke eyed the throng. “What does Evelyn look like again?”

  Snapped from his reverie, Adam returned, “She isn’t here, Damian. Believe me.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Do you see the crowd engaged in pleasantries? If Evelyn was in the room, every eye would be trained on her.”

  The duke lifted a sooty brow. “Is she so beautiful?”

  “Yes. Why else is the prince so determined to have her?”

  “Well, then I suppose we must wait for the royal bride to make her fashionably late appearance.”

  Adam did not voice the dreadful sentiment aloud, that Evelyn might not be making an appearance—ever. He refused to think about the ghastly possibility that she was dead. In truth, he couldn’t stomach it.

  “I’m sure she’s fine,” assured the duke.

  Adam glanced at his brother, so astute. But he did not respond. The music had stopped, the crowd’s attention snagged by His Royal Highness, King George.

  “I wish to offer a toast.” His Majesty lifted a sparkling glass. “To our dear ally and good friend, Prince Vadik of Moravia, and his lovely bride, Lady Evelyn Waye. Many blessings upon both of you.”

  A chorus of applause, the crescendo making Adam’s head pound. He stretched his neck to peer over plumes and stacked coiffures, looking for Evelyn.

  Where are you?

  A gentleman approached the king. Adam loathed the stranger on sight. There was something about his methodical gait and prissy manner that provoked dislike.

  “Thank you, Your Highness.”

  Vadik!

  “I am honored by your sincere felicitations.” The prince smiled. “I regret my fiancée is unwell and unable to attend the festive gathering, but I humbly accept your well wishes and return your blessing tenfold.”

  Unwell!

  Adam thundered across the ballroom. A darkness filled him, goaded him to wend through the dense crowd with maddening purpose. He heard the distant command to stop, but he refused to listen to the duke.

  Adam pinned his eyes on the devil, Prince Vadik. A handsome man with golden curls and a smooth and easy smile.

  Adam bunched his fists and moved closer…closer…

  “Good evening, Your Highness.”

  The duke suddenly sidestepped his brother, blocking him from the prince and the king.

  Adam glared at the back of Damian’s head. His fingers twitched and burned to trounce the dastardly prince, to snap his despicable neck and hang his carcass from the highest bell tower to rot.

  King George returned the greeting with a respectful, “Your Grace.”

  “My brother and I would like to wish Your Highness health and happiness.”

  His Majesty eyed Adam with a curious stare. “My lord, you have returned?”

  His Royal Highness tactfully neglected to mention, From the dead.

  Adam swallowed the black bile in his throat and stepped out of his brother’s shadow. “I have indeed, Your Majesty.”

  It was like nails driven into the soles of his feet, the unbearable proximity to him. The notorious devil keeping Evelyn hostage was only four short feet away. All Adam had to do was reach out and grab the fiend, rip the skin from his back.

  But Adam was impotent to do as he desired. He stood with steely resolve instead—glaring at the fiend.

  “My brother and I would also like to wish Prince Vadik our warm congratulations.”

  Once he was no more the center of attention, King George found favor with another eager courtier desperate for his attention.

  The prince approached the Duke of Wembury and held out his hand in deference. “Your Grace, I am delighted to meet you.”

  “The pleasure is mine.”

  The men shook hands.

  “I have heard much about you.” Vadik stepped closer to the duke and whispered, “I believe you and I are very much alike, Your Grace.”

/>   Damian bristled. “How do you mean?”

  But Prince Vadik only smiled and refrained from further comment. He turned his dark green eyes to Adam.

  “Good evening, my lord.”

  The prince extended his hand.

  Adam envisioned hacking off the extremity. He pondered the thrilling idea for a brief moment before he gathered his composure and returned the greeting.

  Their hands touched.

  The prince offered a firm handshake…but Adam wasn’t so cordial. He gripped the scoundrel’s palm with savage force, crushed his fingers.

  Something flickered in Vadik’s emerald eyes.

  Pleasure.

  Adam quickly released his hold, perturbed. The villain had enjoyed the brief spurt of pain. And the idea of giving him any sort of delight made Adam’s gut twist with nausea.

  The duke intervened with a disheartened remark: “We regret to hear your fiancée is indisposed, Prince Vadik.”

  Vadik’s gaze lingered upon Adam before he returned, “I, too, mourn the loss of her company.”

  Mourn the loss!

  Adam was dizzy with grief, the wounds at his chest bleeding again. He could feel the blood seeping through the bandages, and placed a hand over his taut midriff to stave off the flow. But it did little good. His veins flexed in stiff alarm; the blood pumped through the wounds. The dark suit he wore covered the stains, but there was nothing to cover the bereavement in his eyes.

  Was Evelyn dead?

  Was he too late to save her?

  Had he failed again to rescue a woman he had vowed to protect?

  “And where is your wife, Your Grace?” Vadik’s smile turned amorous. “I understand she is a great beauty.”

  The duke’s features darkened. Adam recognized that rabid look, so reminiscent of their father.

  Slowly Damian said, “The duchess is also indisposed, I’m afraid.”

  “Pity. I had hoped to dance with her tonight.”