The Reinvented Miss Bluebeard

by Minda Webber

  The clapping grew, began to reverberate through the room, becoming thunderous. Leaving the sound behind her, Eve escaped to the ladies' lounge to freshen up, while Adam waited to speak with Dr. Sigmund. Hopefully the doctor would have news of the funding committee's decision.

  Before the lecture began, Dr. Sigmund had signaled to them. He had specifically asked that Adam meet with him afterward, which had left Eve silently fuming. She was just as worthy as Adam to hear whatever Dr. Sigmund had to say. Even more so. Yet, now that Adam was supposedly returned from the great Transylvania, she was again ignored and regulated to the petticoat line.

  Inside the lounge, Eve straightened her hair and tucked on her bonnet, wondering nervously what the committee's decision was. The Towers did so need the money.

  Her mind on her worries, Eve took little note of her surroundings as she walked back to the lecture hall. As she was passing a darkened alcove, a golden hook appeared from behind the deep crimson curtains and grabbed her by the long puffy sleeve. Suddenly Eve found herself being reeled in like a fish on a line.

  The curtains dropped back behind her, where she found herself in an enclosed small space with the one pirate she certainly had no wish to encounter or encourage. Immediately she took up a militant stance. Glowering up into the face of her abductor, she lifted her nose and looked down it at him—not an easy feet for one of her stature. Stubborn, strong-willed, and courageous, somehow she managed. It never entered Eve's head to cry out for help, even when manhandled by a tall, thin, partial wererat. "Unhand me at once! What effrontery is this to waylay me here?"

  Hook laughed, holding her tightly with the fingers of his good hand curled around her neck. His hook was now caught in the skirts of her gown. If she moved, he would tear it. He had a dark look and steely determination in his good eye.

  "I've waited a long time to have you near me, Eve. I don't want to let you go too soon. We need to have a few words." It was a bold statement with nefarious intent.

  "You know I desire you," he continued, grinning in lusty amusement. Behind his words lay a world of want. "I've always wanted you, Eve. And I intend to have you—as soon as I've disposed of your husband."

  Jerking her head to the side and trying to be rid of his foul touch, she railed at him. "Such presumption! I have not encouraged you, and well you know it!" She was worried about him hurting Adam. She wouldn't let him.

  "Liar," he announced. "You loved me when you were fifteen. That summer you spent on yer father's ship, you gave me your kisses… and a bit more."

  She couldn't help but blush, because that summer the tall, thin young man had spent several months on her father's Jolly Roger, learning the pirating, plundering, and pillaging business. At the time Ben had been twenty-one and filled with lusty intentions.

  "You were to be mine!" he cried.

  "I was young and foolish. That summer, you were the closest in age to me and the most gallant. But I must point out that that's not saying much on a pirate ship. Even seagulls are more gallant than buccaneers."

  "You were a vision then, and have grown into a goddess," Hook remarked, his dark brown eye alive with long-repressed desire.

  That burning gaze was intimidating. Talk about repressed libidos! Eve scowled. She knew she had been in the wrong all those years ago, allowing him to believe she was hooked, but that was all she had done. Guilt had dogged her for years afterward, and that summer her eyes had been opened to the more nefarious part of his character, like women, wine, women, and song. And women.

  "I can't believe I lost you. You were always meant to be mine, sweetling," Hook said.

  "I disagree," Eve replied. But it appeared Hook was back and determined to force his hand—onto her. Eve found his intentions reprehensible. She shoved the blackhearted villain back, hard, but to no avail; Hook didn't budge an inch, and all she managed was to rip her gown.

  She tried abusing him verbally: "Oh, go boil yourself in oil, and leave me be. I'm a happily married woman." She didn't like the look in Hook's eye or his threatening stance. She didn't think he would rape her, or even abduct her from the museum, yet she was afraid for Adam. Something fierce had grabbed her savagely by the heart, rolling her toward love like the crashing of the ocean's mighty waves to shore. She couldn't stand the thought of her Adam's much too early demise. It was strange, she knew; just last week she would have danced upon Dr. Griffin's grave. Well, maybe not danced…

  "You'll be a happy widow, but not for long. My waiting days are over. I've waited for you longer than I have for anything, and I intend to have you. Yer husband will be wondering where you are. When he comes, I'll see to his death."

  So that was Hook's game. "If you hurt my husband, I'll kill you!" she vowed. "I swear it on my mother's grave! I don't love you, Ben. I'll never love you. If you hurt my husband, I'll see to it you walk the plank of one of my father's ships—but not before you're keelhauled once or twice, you dirty rat!"

  Eve had taken the wrong tack; she recognized that fact as soon as Hook's face turned red and his expression filled with malice. So much for the truth. Eve shoved him hard, hearing her gown rip further. "Leave me the bloody hell alone!" she cried.

  Fortunately, her gown was made of strong stuff, and basically held, but his gold hook still captured a thick piece of her skirt.

  Hook leaned in so close that Eve smelled the rum on his breath. His one eye glowered at her with frustrated desire and hatred. "You bitch! Love him, do you? Well, no matter. I'll serve his liver to you on a platter!"

  Eve tried not to shudder as Hook's mouth took possession of her own. It was a brutal assault, leaving her lower lip cut and bruised. His hook pressed hard into her back, and his other hand still held her neck in a death grip.

  She gagged and bit down on his tongue.

  "You vicious bitch!" he accused, and his hand moved to her breast and squeezed cruelly. "You'll pay for that!" He squeezed again, with malicious intent, smiling grimly when he heard her whimper. "I hadn't planned to tup you here, but your razorish tongue has decided your fate. You'll learn obedience to me on your knees, like the bitch you are!"

  Realizing that the situation had gone far beyond her control, and not wanting to have her virginity forcibly taken, she opened her mouth and yelled, "Adam!"

  Hook laughed wickedly, crushing her breast again and tearing at her gown, the tiny pearl buttons popping. As a portion of her chemise and breasts were revealed, Eve again called Adam's name.

  Hook silenced her with another ruthless kiss. His arousal was thick and hard against her stomach, and the feel of it was so different from Adam's seductions that she cringed. But her subsequent effort to free herself only made the kiss turn brutally savage.

  Hook's attention was so focused that he missed the ripping open of the curtains. Cold fury filled Adam's face as he took in the despicable situation. His heart was racing and his throat felt tight. Hearing Eve's call had filled him with fear. He had died a hundred deaths racing to her aid. Now, with lightning-quick reflexes, he ducked low and flew at Hook, taking the pirate captain down with a crash.

  Eve stared, unable to believe her eyes. Her savior had arrived. It was Adam, so quick on his feet that he was like the winged god Mercury. She clapped her hands in admiration and joy.

  Adam punched Hook in the face. There came a crack, and Hook's nose flattened. Blood spattered him and he swung at Adam with his hook, missing flesh but gouging the flap of Adam's jacket. His attack also caught the draperies, tearing them the rest of the way open as the two men crashed out into the hallway.

  Eve followed, a smile forming on her lips. Adam was fighting for her honor just like every husband should do for his wife. What an amazing man! she thought with bemusement. In some ways he was an impostor, but he was also a prize.

  "Watch out for his hook," Eve warned, making a fist and holding it up in front of her, giving an imaginary jab.

  "Ouch!" Hook had just slammed a fist into Adam's face.

  The hallway was now cluttered with people f
rom the lecture. Dr. Sigmund came to stand beside Eve, taking in her torn clothing, and he scowled at Hook. "Hit him a good one, Adam!" he cried.

  The bent Hook swung again, but Adam dodged the assault. As his opponent redoubled his efforts and managed to kick him in the thigh, Adam retaliated by ducking low and swinging hard. His punch caught Hook's shoulder, and as Eve cheered him on, along with Dr. Sigmund, Adam's foot next connected with Hook's groin. The pirate fell to his knees, clutching his privates while blood trickled down his face.

  Several of Hook's crew barged into the hall and shoved Adam back. One of them grabbed their captain, while two others held threatening pistols at the crowd.

  Glaring at the doubled-over villain, Adam snarled, "Leave my wife alone or I'll kill you, you son of a wharf rat! I'll tear you to pieces bit by bit and feed you to the sharks!"

  Hook glowered, blood covering his face and his clothes. "I'll see ye in hell, and I'll be the one sending ye there," he vowed. But with those words, he and his men disappeared down the hall.

  "Should we follow them?" one of the onlookers asked.

  Adam and Eve both shook their heads. Adam quickly assessed her appearance, looking closely for serious damage. "No, we wouldn't be able to catch them," he said. "Wererats."

  Several of the gentlemen nodded, while Dr. Sigmund said, "Ah, that explains the remarkably quick escape. Dr. Griffin, are you all right?" he asked Eve.

  "I'm fine, thanks to Adam. But I thank you for your concern."

  "I think I should take my wife home now," Adam spoke up.

  Dr. Sigmund nodded. "We should attend to other matters right now, ourselves," he said with some perspicacity. He rapidly ushered the rest of the group down the hallway.

  Eve glanced at the departing crowd and then at Adam. The look in his eyes was one of concern, yet it also held a glint of fierce triumph. He had fought for her and won. Eve recognized the expression instinctively, a very primitive reaction that had her heart speeding up and her breath hitching. Adam cherished her and valued her, and she trusted him more for it. She now knew that he wanted to add to her life, not take from it, and he wanted to walk by her side and not before or after her. He would dry her tears when life's great tragedies befell them, and cheer her up too. In essence, Adam would make the everyday extraordinary.

  She paused to tenderly wipe the blood off his cheek. She saw so much that was new. Her husband was a strong character, and dependable, a man who hid much of himself behind a sharp wit and droll humor. But what lay underneath was a man to lean on, a man to trust. In short, Adam was a man for all seasons. And her father—her horrible, meddling, obnoxious, assertive… wonderful, wise father—had sent him to her.

  Glancing down at his beloved, Adam was struck by the look in her eyes: Eve had stopped running. Wanting to throw back his head and bellow in triumph, he restrained his urge. Finally, the love of his life was beginning to understand the depths of his affection.

  Taking her hand, he pulled her toward a back exit. Once outside, he again examined her closely, making sure she was uninjured; then he kissed her tenderly while lifting her into their carriage. He followed, saying, "Thank God you're safe." Rapping on the carriage roof, he shouted, "Anchors aweigh, James."

  "You were quite the hero in there," she replied. "But you made a deadly enemy," she fretted, her eyes worried. He had a bruise on his jaw and a cut cheek, but he looked dashingly disheveled. And the fierceness with which he had defeated Hook had roused her passions. Her hubby had been adamantly protective, and he had won. And while she knew it was a shallow thought, something in her Bluebeard heritage loved and needed a winner. "I guess I should admit that I was a tiny bit awed by that rousing display of manliness."

  Grabbing her hand, he squeezed it enthusiastically. "Only a tiny bit? And I thought I was quite the knight in shining armor, riding in to do battle with your dragon—"

  "Wererat," she interrupted.

  Adam chuckled. Then he leaned closer, his voice a soft whisper against her face. "At last, my strategy is working. In spite of our inauspicious meeting, you admire and respect me. At long last."

  "Not that long," she replied, her voice teasing. "You are all right, aren't you? You're not hurt badly?"

  "No. And you?" he asked tersely, studying her cut lip.

  "No. I must admit I was worried there for a short while, but you came to my rescue."

  "You're an amazing woman, Eve Bluebeard. Most women would have fallen into a fit of vapors or crying hysterics. Not you. But then, you are made of sterner stuff. You didn't even fly off into a tizzy."

  "No, I'll leave flying to Mr. Pryce."

  Adam laughed. Lust rushing through his blood, he began nipping at her neck. Then, with great confidence, he kissed her cheek. Tonight he would be victorious, and this pirate's daughter would be trimming his sails. At last the family jewels would be buried by a Bluebeard.

  "Adam?" Eve asked.

  "Yes?" Minutes earlier she had looked happy, but now he saw she looked worried.

  "Did Dr. Sigmund tell you the committee's decision?"

  Adam thought about lying to her, but he found he couldn't do that. "Yes. Eve, it's not that bad, but… it's also not the best of news."

  "What?" Her voice was filled with trepidation, and she gazed anxiously at him.

  "They are giving us the fourth grant."

  "But that will barely last six months," Eve complained. "How could they do this? The Towers needed the first grant—or at least the second one. Even the third would have been better."

  Adam drew her into the sheltering circle of his arms, holding her tight and intending to offer her comfort. They rode through the dark night. The sounds of the wheels filled the silence, but as time passed, temptation raised its swollen purple head. The scent and feel of her was too much, and Adam forgot his decision to leave Eve alone until her disappointment was not so keen. He began to kiss her cheeks, her nose, and her lips, finally moving to the silky smoothness of her neck.

  Encased in misery and feeling sorry for herself, Eve suddenly found her attention caught by Adam's tender ministrations. He began to kiss her neck, and her insides began to tingle. Warmth invaded her body, and her toes curled in her slippers. Fickle toes! They certainly hadn't curled when Hook mauled her. But as Adam slipped his tongue into her ear, she began to shiver in delight.

  "You need me, Eve," he said. "You want me, darling. I bet you're wet with desire."

  Her blue eyes were glassy, and his words sizzled through her. Rot the blighter if he wasn't right, for she felt a gush of liquid between her thighs. "How could this happen so quickly? I am a rational person, a doctor," she said. "One doesn't just snap her fingers and find love knocking at her door."

  "I didn't knock," he managed to growl, the warm tenderness in his eyes becoming blazing-hot desire. His arousal pressed against her, showing his attraction, and he leaned over and suckled on her breast. Lifting his head, he begged, "Darling, let me love you."

  The sound of crunching gravel and James's shout interrupted, however. Eve quickly pushed against him. "Adam! Stop that. We've arrived back at the Towers. We can't do this on my doorstep!"

  Adam groaned, his blood burning, his manhood literally ready to explode at any moment. "Then for pity's sake, let's hurry to your bedroom."

  Eve's heart was thundering in her chest as she straightened what she could of her gown. Need was riding her shoulders, for she indeed wanted this man to take possession of her, to introduce to her to the delights of the marriage bed. She had waited too long, and this would be a night never to forget.

  The driver had opened the door and placed the steps for her to get down. Adam followed, then grabbed her hand. Together they ran up the steps to the asylum, laughing merrily. They took the stairs two at a time, and Eve hadn't felt so carefree since her days on the Jolly Roger.

  No sooner had they burst through the front door, than the towering Teeter grimly greeted them. "The little bald fellow has been digging holes again, the fanged gentleman is most u
pset about his dirty bed, and the buggy patient has flown himself into a web," he reported.

  Things were generally crazy, Eve knew, but for a grown man, (or werewolf) to be caught in a trifling spiderweb made no sense at all. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Teeter, have you been drinking?"

  "Oh, madam, if only I had," he replied.

  Through the window, Eve saw Mrs. Monkfort waxing some fronds near the pond. Sir Loring was there, too, pacing frantically in the conservatory, looking for dirt, which Eve assumed Mrs. Monkfort had removed.

  Adam glanced at Eve. Apparently his desires were to be thwarted once again. He asked in a voice filled with irritation, "I don't suppose we could just get back in the carriage?"

  Eve narrowed her eyes in weary resignation, then dutifully followed Teeter into the conservatory.

  Adam sighed, reluctantly trudging after them. He knew patience was a virtue, but he'd never been very virtuous. He was the conquering hero, but with no reward.

  Shrugging with ill grace, he grumbled, "Somewhere tonight, people are happy and laughing. Perhaps they're at a ball, or a musical, and they are sharing heated glances and secret assignations. Somewhere tonight, young lovers are lying entwined in each other's arms, but it bloody well isn't here."

  And was this as good as it was ever going to get?

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Oh, the Webs We Weave…

  Adam's eyes widened. Sir Loring was dashing about the conservatory, crying mournfully and tearing out fistfuls of his hair. "That woman! That maddening madwoman has thrown out my native soil. The native soil that filled my coffin. What shall I do? I'm doomed—doomed!"

  Mrs. Monkfort peeked over the fountain. The garden room was filled with a dense array of foliage and colorful flowers. It was an exotic jungle with the rich scents of earth and hundreds of flowering plants. Normally it was a place of sanctuary and serenity. Not today.