“I told you; you have a family.”
“If you failed to notice at dinner, I am not on good terms with my family.”
“But you can reconcile with your kin if you return to England.”
Adam stalked away from her. Why the devil was she so eager to be rid of him all of a sudden?
“It’s improper for you to live with me in America.” She sighed. “It was different at the cottage; we were alone. But in America I hope to begin a new life, to get acquainted with a family of respectable means in need of a governess.”
Yet another excuse as to why he should sail back to England. How many more did she have? What was the real reason behind her antagonism?
“I will hire a female companion,” he said. “We will not be alone together.”
“I’ve made up my mind, Adam. I want you to return to England.”
He headed for her with brisk strides. He lowered his lips a hairbreadth from hers and gritted, “And I’ve made up mine. I’m staying with you in America.”
For a moment he thought he might have persuaded her to submit to good sense, but then he observed a defiant spark in her eyes.
“You are not my husband or my father. You have no clout over my life.”
He wanted to argue the point; he had a duty. He had promised to protect her. But he sensed the woman would only rebuff that argument, too.
Pushed too hard, she was combative. He was glad to see the hot-tempered streak in her. But did she have to argue with him? He was not the enemy, didn’t she realize that?
“It’s settled then?”
She mistook his quiet indignation for begrudging agreement. He didn’t disabuse her of the misconception, though. Let her believe him in accord. It offered him time to find some other way to convince the woman he had every intention of remaining with her in the New World.
Chapter 22
“Are you ready?”
Evelyn dropped the comb, startled. With no mirror in the bedroom, she had not noticed Adam’s approach.
She turned around to confront him—and suppressed a shiver.
Adam was dressed in black breeches; the material hugged his legs. It also illustrated the brawn pulsing through his muscles. Her own pulse quickened at the sight of him, her heart throbbing faster as she skimmed her eyes over the rest of his robust form.
Draped in a crisp white shirt with no vest or coat or neck cloth to tidy his rugged appearance, he reminded her of their lazy days at the cottage by the seashore. He had dressed in rural attire then, too. And she was gripped by a profound desire to return to those dreamy days before the dark cloud of uncertainty and mistrust had cast a shadow over them.
She peeked through the bedroom window. It was early morning and she had to wonder, “Ready to do what at this hour?”
“To continue with our lessons.”
Evelyn had had very little sleep, overwhelmed by restlessness after her heated talk with Adam the other night. Her brain a bit foggy, she said, “What lessons?”
Adam took her by the hand and dragged her from the vanity. “You must learn to defend yourself, remember?”
Evelyn tossed the comb aside, his meaning clear. “But I don’t want to fight with swords!”
“Very well.” He pulled her from the room. “You will learn to fight with your hands instead.”
Some minutes later, Evelyn was sheltered beneath a cluster of trees in the garden with Adam.
“Let’s begin,” he said, “before the sun rises too high and the heat drives us to seek shelter indoors.”
“What about your injuries?”
She eyed him closely as he pushed up his sleeves and exposed his stalwart forearms. It baffled her, the energy he possessed. He had strength enough to crush bones, yet he was tender at times, too.
“I’m fine, Evie. You must learn to protect yourself.” There was a dark glow in his eyes. “I won’t always be beside you.”
Adam sounded displeased by the remark. Clearly he was still vexed with her for foiling his plan to be her guardian. But she’d had to do it. The thought of being ruled by another man, especially one who made her yearn for kisses, was frightening. He had power over her, like her father and the prince. It was only in a different form. But it would bring her the same heartache.
“Are you ready, Evie?”
Slowly he circled her.
Evelyn shivered under his assessing stare. He prowled around her like a predator about to pounce.
“Yes, I’m ready,” she said.
But she was having a deuced hard time ignoring the jitters in her belly and concentrating on the session at hand. Rapt by the man’s hard stare, she started to feel like real prey.
Evelyn gasped as a hard set of arms circled her from behind and clinched her waist. She could feel the man’s muscles as he pressed against her back, feel the flex of his weight. He was so tight against her, so firm. His strength confused her…comforted her…alarmed her.
“Break away, Evie.”
Lost in reflection, she quickly composed herself and struggled. But her thrashing proved ineffectual; he maintained his hold. And the more she battled, the more frustrated she became.
At length she stilled. “It’s hopeless.”
“It’s not hopeless,” he said deeply by her ear, making her quiver with delight. “After years of physical work, you have the strength to resist. You only need to learn how to do it properly.”
He let her go.
The cool morning air whooshed across her back, moist with sweat, washing away the heat of Adam’s touch.
She shuddered once more, this time at the chill of being let loose.
“If trapped from behind,” he said, “use your feet as a weapon.” He demonstrated. “Kick back against your assailant’s shin; you’ll throw your attacker off balance.”
Evelyn eyed his every move.
“Try again, Evie.”
He approached her, moved behind her, and wrapped his arms around her.
“Are you sure you want me to do this?” she said.
“Just don’t break my leg.”
For a moment she didn’t budge; she just let the heat from his torso warm and invigorate her spirit.
But then his arms pinched her waist, reminding her to fight. She did. She raised her foot and sent it back. She didn’t strike with force; she didn’t want to crack his shin, but keeping her locked in his embrace, he allowed her to practice her aim until she nailed him right below the knee.
“Well done, Evie.”
There it was again, that familiar joy at being praised.
“You can also use your elbow as a weapon.” He let her go. “Put your arms around me.”
She balked. “What?”
“I want you to pretend you’re the assailant.” He crooked his hand to encourage her. “Come.”
Her heart thumping loudly in her ears, Evelyn opened her arms wide and slowly reached around either side of his waist.
Goodness, he was big. Her fingers just touched at the apex of his chest…and the fire that burned in her belly quickly spread through the rest of her, too.
She pressed her cheek against his back and inhaled the spicy scent of his musk. Prickles of nervous delight danced across her fingertips as she hugged him with all her might.
Adam was quiet. He had stilled under her embrace, and for a short while she sensed his steady breathing and nothing more.
There was a quiet roughness to his voice when at last he said, “With your elbow aim for the ribs.” He slowly demonstrated the movements against her. “Now you try.”
Once more Evelyn was cocooned in his arms. And once more she resisted the impulse to sigh in contentment.
She trained her eyes on the tree for balance, and then curled her body to slowly mimic the attack postures.
“Good.” He let go of her midriff and faced her again. “Now in a frontal attack, use your knee.” He shot his knee upward to demonstrate. “Aim for the most sensitive part of a man.”
Heat touched her chee
ks as her eyes inadvertently fixed to the said muscle between his legs.
Quickly she focused on the well-hewn ground instead, but she sensed her straying eyes had not gone unnoticed by Adam, for he said gruffly, “Why don’t we practice with our hands next?”
She prayed the earth would shake and crack and swallow her whole. How mortifying! If only her instructor weren’t so captivating. A boorish toad would be ideal, she thought. Such a teacher would spare her from further embarrassment.
“If your hands are free, strike at the throat.” He made a quick chopping movement. “But make sure to put considerable pressure on the target or you won’t do any harm.”
Choking back her discomfiture, she followed suit.
Adam pointed toward her eyes. “Or poke your finger into the villain’s eye.”
She grimaced.
“It will disarm him, Evie, and give you a chance to run away.”
“What if my hands aren’t free?”
“Bite!”
“I don’t know if I can do this. It’s so…bloody.”
“If your life depends upon it, you will do it. Get angry, Evie. It will give you the inner strength to fight.”
His conviction was infectious. Resolute to conquer her qualms, she followed his direction and practiced the movements.
As the morning progressed and the sun burned brighter, Evelyn sighed.
“Are you tired?” He gestured to a tree. “Do you want to rest in the shade?”
Her limbs aching, she readily assented and crouched beside the tree, the gnarled root an ideal stool. Adam joined her beneath the canopy of leaves and pressed his back against the rough bark in respite.
“You’re doing well,” he said.
“Thank you.”
She observed her slippered feet, stained with grass. As the conversation lulled, her thoughts returned to Adam, her instructor. The man was skilled with a sword, with his fists. That he could so easily render an enemy senseless offered her comfort. However, it also disturbed her, for she had to wonder if he would ever turn his fists against her…as the duchess had subtly suggested.
“Is something the matter, Evie?”
She poked the grass with the tip of her shoe. “I was just thinking.”
“About?”
“About veiled dangers.”
He crouched beside her. She peered into his soft blue eyes. Once she had found truth and kindness in the pair. Now she looked upon him with apprehension.
“Do you still fear being in the castle, Evie?”
She formed her words carefully. “The duchess thinks I might still be in danger.”
He frowned. “The duke will not harm you.”
“It is not the duke she thinks will harm me.”
Quietly Evelyn stared at him.
“Oh.” Adam glanced away. He moved away, too. Restless energy thrummed through his muscles. It was evident in the way he bristled. “I admit, I’m not surprised.”
She pinched her brows together. “Why not?”
“The duchess and I parted on very poor terms four years ago.”
“Because you quarreled with her husband? And is the woman still angry with you?”
“I think she is afraid.”
“Of you?”
“Of what I might do.”
Evelyn regarded his inscrutable features, masked by the shade of leaves. “And what might you do?”
Adam looked at his hands. “I hurt my brother once.”
“How?” she whispered.
“I stabbed him.”
Evelyn grabbed the locket at her throat for comfort and support. Terrible thoughts beset her: thoughts of Adam attacking the duke in a feral rage…attacking her.
“You…you stabbed him?” she stammered. “But why?”
“Evie, listen to me.”
He reached out to clasp her hand, but she jerked her fingers away.
Adam stepped back, his eyes cloudy, stormy. “I was a very angry man many years ago. I blamed my brother for my wife’s death.”
Evelyn stilled the rampant beats of her heart, shushed the blood in her ears. “The duke killed your wife? I thought she drowned at sea?”
“She did. Six years ago, Tess and I curtailed our wedding tour to return to England and help the duke. He was still a wicked man then, the ‘Duke of Rogues.’ But he was also my brother. I thought I could save him from his wickedness.” Adam sounded tortured. “There was a brutal storm one night. Tess drowned, but I survived. After the sinking, I was filled with grief…rage. I blamed the duke for my wife’s drowning. I reasoned if he wasn’t such a villain, Tess and I would still be on our wedding tour. We would not have had to sail home to save the duke from sin—and Tess would still be alive.”
“So you tried to kill him?”
“I wanted to avenge Teresa’s death.”
“Why didn’t you?”
He bowed his head. “I realized my mistake.”
She could hear the shame in his voice, the regret. Her thoughts whirled, danced together in a mad rush. She searched her brain for comfort, for words to soothe the turmoil, the agitation in her breast. “Why is the duke so wicked?”
“He was wicked. And it was all my father’s doing. The late duke was a villain.” The man’s voice was hard. “Always drunk, he hurt my mother…and my brother.”
Evelyn gasped softly. Something sparked within her: an instant comprehension and sympathy, for she, too, had suffered under the wild rantings of a foxed father.
“I escaped the beatings,” said Adam, “only because I was second born and Father didn’t care much for me. He was obsessed with making his heir, my brother, a rogue—just like him.”
The light of knowledge filled the dark pockets of her imagination. “And so Damian became the ‘Duke of Rogues’?”
Slowly Adam nodded. “As boys, Damian and I had gathered in secret for many years. Father didn’t want us to be friends or even brothers.”
“Why?”
“He didn’t want a positive influence to distort his wicked protégé.”
“I see.”
“But once Damian was older and Father’s clout started to take its hold, I lost my brother.” Adam pointed to his chest. “Damian didn’t exist in here anymore. I tried to help him, to drag him away from the terrible vice that consumed his life…but I couldn’t save him.”
“I understand. Your father’s hold was too great.”
“Father died more than a decade ago, but still Damian reigned as the ‘Duke of Rogues’ until…”
“Until?”
“Until he met his wife. She offered him strength: the strength he needed to heal.”
Evelyn was struck by the truth of his words. Adam was teaching her to fight with swords and fists, but she still lacked strength: the inner strength to defeat the prince in her mind. Adam had suggested she get angry; it would help her find that missing strength. But how could she get past the fear to get to the anger?
“Why did you bring me here, Adam?”
He spoke with uncanny conviction. “Because you will be safe here.”
“You are at odds with your brother. Why would I be safe here?”
“He will not hurt you, Evie.”
“But he might…to avenge himself on you.”
“He won’t.”
“How do you know that?”
“My mother lives in London. She writes to me often. I know my brother has changed. He is not the ‘Duke of Rogues’ anymore.”
A mother’s fondest hope, Evelyn mused. But it did not negate the fact that both Adam and his mother might be wrong about the duke. Four years was a long time for a temper to rankle. Perhaps the duke was filled with bitter hate toward his brother after all.
And what about Adam? Was his anger toward the duke really gone? The duchess wasn’t so sure. She believed Adam capable of violence.
Evelyn really wasn’t safe inside the castle.
“You are still frightened?” he said. “Of me?”
She was overwhelmed
with uncertainty—about everything. “Is that why you are so skilled in swordplay? And fisticuffs?”
Adam approached her. “I spent a long time preparing my revenge against the duke. After the ship’s sinking, I washed up on an island off the coast of Wales. I was delirious with grief and a fever, and I lost my memory for almost a year. I lived with a group of monks who took care of me. Once my memory returned I spent another year learning how to fight…to kill before I confronted my brother. But I think it’s time I put that training to better use.”
She eyed him curiously. “How?”
“Let me teach you all that I know.”
“About death?”
“Use the knowledge to live, Evie.”
She inhaled a shaky breath. Her heart was thumping, her pulse tapping. She was confused. Who was the real villain here?
She stepped away from the tree, away from Adam. “I want to return to the castle.”
Chapter 23
Evelyn stood beside the window in the parlor. Ever since her escape from the coffin, warm light was intoxicating to her. She needed to bathe in it for comfort.
But still a darkness dwelled in her heart.
I stabbed him.
Even the memory of the words chilled her to the bone. No wonder the duchess feared Adam. He had stabbed the duke! He was a dangerous man. She had always suspected it…but Adam claimed he wasn’t filled with hatred anymore, that the strife with his brother was over; he had changed.
She wasn’t so sure, though. A violent man was always violent. He might bury his feral inclinations, act a gentleman at times, but beneath the thick exterior of grace and charm was a beast ready to pounce.
She knew firsthand.
She shivered at the morbid thought. It was a good thing Adam wasn’t going to stay with her in America. She didn’t want to spend the rest of her days wondering: Will he hurt me as he hurt his brother?
Evelyn lifted her head at the sound of heavy footfalls.
A chill enveloped her spirit at the sight of the Duke of Wembury. He stood under the door frame in a lazy manner, regarding her with an intense curiosity that was hard to ignore.
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