She’d been wrong. His eyes burned like fire opals in his red face and his black brows were drawn into a flat line. Mia flinched back and would have fallen had Bouchard not been right behind her and steadied her with his hands.
Adam froze and the color drained from his face like sand from an hourglass. His eyes flickered from Bouchard to Mia and back and his features settled into their normal, unreadable lines.
He politely offered Mia his arm. “Thank you for your help, Captain.”
Bouchard shot back down the narrow corridor like an arrow from a bow.
Adam didn’t speak until they were inside the cabin.
“Remove your clothes; they are soaked.” His voice was colder than the water that had drenched her.
Mia fumbled with her cloak, her hands shaking so badly she could not manipulate the simple closure.
He stepped closer. “I will do it.”
She dropped her hands to her sides as his strong, dexterous fingers opened and removed first her cloak and then her gown, not stopping until she was stripped to her chemise, which was still dry. He pulled one of the blankets from the bed and wrapped it around her before tucking her into the remaining bedding.
He turned at the sound of a light knock on the door. “Enter,” he called out.
Bouchard himself stood in the doorway, holding a small tray with a brown Betty and two cups.
Adam took the tray. “Thank you, Captain.”
Bouchard met Mia’s eyes over Adam’s shoulder, as if to make sure she was unharmed.
“Good night, Captain Bouchard.” The chill in Adam’s voice served to cut the temperature in the small cabin by half. He hooked his foot around the door and pushed it shut without waiting for an answer. He lowered the tray to the small dining table with a clatter and spun around.
“He thinks I will beat you.” He shoved one hand ruthlessly through his hair, as if that might serve to hold his emotions in check. His eyes blazed. He flung a hand toward the corridor, his lips thinned to fine, pale lines on his taut face. “You believed I would strike you out there.”
Mia swallowed.
“When have I ever given you cause to expect such a thing?” He dropped into a chair and let his head fall back against the polished wood wall.
Mia struggled to emerge from the veritable cocoon he’d built around her, holding the bedding in one hand as she went toward him. He looked up at the touch of her hand, his beautiful eyes agonized.
“You should be in bed,” he muttered.
She pulled the bedding around her and sat in his lap. He remained rigid for a moment before his arms came up to cradle her. She sighed and leaned against his chest, almost weeping when his chin came to rest on top of her head.
“Adam?”
“Yes?” His hand moved to tuck a loose curl behind her ear.
“I’m sorry. I don’t think you would ever hurt me. It was just . . .”
“You’ve been struck before?”
She nodded, burrowing closer as his arms tightened. “The sultan would often become irritable and strike the first thing—or person—at hand.” She felt him shake his head and looked up. “It’s all right, Adam. He never hurt me badly.”
He took her chin in his hand, his eyes unusually bright. “How could any man ever hit you? It would be like striking a flower or a . . . kitten.”
She smiled at the comparison. “A flower. That is one of the nicest compliments I’ve ever received.”
His lips twisted, but it wasn’t a smile. “I would never hurt you, Mia.”
“I know that. You were scared and that made you angry. I’ve often felt the same way with Jibril. You saved my life out there, Adam.”
He turned away. “Bouchard has brought us a feast.” His lips curved. “I’m not happy for the reason, but I can’t say I didn’t enjoy having him wait on us like a housemaid.”
Mia grinned and shifted over to the bench to prepare their tea. “I’m sure he will regret it tomorrow.”
He snorted. “I’m sure he’s regretting it already.”
They sipped their tea and ate thick slabs of bread, butter, and jam. Mia was exhausted from both her experience on deck and below. She was also suddenly curious.
“Adam?”
He finished chewing his bread and washed it down with some tea. “Yes?”
“Will you tell me something of your other marriages?”
His eyes widened comically. “Now? You wish to hear about my infamous marriages now? After weeks of being married?”
She nodded.
“You are an unusual woman, Mia Exley.”
A sense of warmth and well-being flooded her at the sound of her married name. “The reason I never asked you before is that I never believed you killed your wives, Adam.”
“Oh, how can you be so certain?”
“I could tell even that first night.”
“How is that?”
“You never looked ashamed or worried, only annoyed—at the stupidity of those who would believe such a thing. You are not the kind of man who hurts women, children, or anyone weaker than yourself.”
“I appreciate your blind faith.”
She cupped his jaw. “Please, tell me what happened.”
He sat back in his chair and sighed. “Why not? I suppose I should work in chronological order. I was nineteen when I first saw Veronica. She was—” He stopped and shook his head at whatever he saw in his head. “Well, she was unlike anything I’d ever seen.”
Jealousy for his dead wife rose in her throat like choking bile. The look on his face as he peered into his past was rapt. What dangerous box of secrets had she pried open?
“If I’d not been a young idiot, sick with calf-love, I would have taken note of what a devil she was. She tormented me and every other man who vied for her hand until matters reached a fever pitch, culminating in a challenge to the first of three men I would call out because of her.”
“Three?”
“I didn’t kill him, but he would never use his arm again.” His lips twisted with disgust. “I was a fool, almost blind with joy when she consented to marry me.”
Mia reached for her cup, her hand shaking so badly she left it in its saucer. He’d been in love with Veronica.
Adam was lost in his memories. “Veronica was a creature of pure passion, completely lacking the coldly rational outlook that had been drummed into me from birth. At first I was charmed by the differences between us. But I became less enamored of her tempestuous nature after Catherine was born.” He frowned into his teacup.
“Why? What happened then?”
He inhaled deeply before looking up, his gaze flat. “Veronica became even wilder after she realized she’d not given birth to a son. She wanted nothing more than to leave the child in the country and remove to London.” He shrugged. “I indulged her wishes until she became pregnant with Eva. Those were perhaps the longest nine months of both our lives. She was ... devastated when she realized she’d had a second daughter. I kept her at Exham as long as possible, staying with her in the country even though she began to hate me—and my mother and sister, not to mention her daughters.” He looked at her and this time Mia knew he was seeing her.
“I kept her at Exham, hoping she would overcome her unreasoning hatred of her own daughters. I didn’t touch her.” His razor-sharp cheekbones were stained a dark red. “I was afraid to get her with child.” He shook his head. “How can a woman hate her own baby?”
Mia realized it was a serious question. “I saw it happen in the harem. Sometimes a woman would just neglect her child. Sometimes”—she grimaced—“sometimes mothers tried to hurt them. I don’t know what it is, but it must be a horrible, horrible feeling.”
“When I suggested we stay in the country and miss another Season she became insane. She attacked me with her hands. I tried to reason with her—to calm her—but she broke and ran from me like a madwoman.
“When she failed to return home by dark, I went to the stables to saddle a horse and go find he
r.” His lips curled bitterly. “I found her in a stall mounted on one of my grooms. She laughed in my face and mocked me.”
Mia reached for his hand. “Oh, Adam.”
“I knew I had to let her go to London—to get her away from my family.” He turned his hand palm up and clasped her fingers hard. “From the moment we arrived in London she immersed herself in an almost violent whirl of gaiety. It was easy to ignore her sexual liaisons and orgies as we moved in different circles by then. I was too relieved to be shed of her to care what she did, as long as she did it away from me.
“At the end of that Season she went to Brighton and I went home.” He squeezed her hand, his face sick with guilt. “I was a coward and glad to be away from her. To be honest, I would have been happy never to see her again. As it was, I didn’t see her for almost two years. I spent the time at Exham with my mother, sister, and the girls. There were days I could almost forget she existed.” He pulled his hand away and pushed himself out of his chair. “I’m afraid I need something a little stronger than tea, my dear.”
He sat down again with a glass of brandy. “I couldn’t stay in the country forever and had to go to London on business. I was shocked at the changes in Veronica—physical and emotional. She was—” He took a drink. “Well, she looked haggard and worn to the bone. We rarely saw each other and she never slept at Exley House. I’d been in town a few weeks when something woke me at perhaps three or four in the morning. I noticed a light beneath Veronica’s door. I could hear the sound of voices—male voices—along with my wife’s.”
Mia briefly closed her eyes. When she opened them she saw he’d drained his glass and was staring blindly at the wall.
“I can still remember what I felt in that instant and it wasn’t jealousy. I’d known of her lovers for years.” He laughed. “Hell, I’d been relieved. No, what I felt that night was hatred.”
That same emotion glowed in his face as he spoke of the long-ago event. In that moment she could have believed him capable of anything, even murder.
“I hated what she’d done to me, to our children, to our life. And now she seemed determined to sully one of the few places that remained sacred to me. My own house. I didn’t bother knocking.” The smile he gave her was feral. “I found Veronica in bed with not one, but two men. I’d heard both men’s names before but wasn’t acquainted with either. One was the middle son of an impoverished baron who’d been part of Veronica’s court when I first met her. The other was a mere boy—the son of an obscure country squire. Naturally, the two men were horrified. But not Veronica. At first she was furious. How she raged at me when I kicked out her lovers.” He laughed and shook his head. “Even at the time I found the men’s expressions amusing. I told them my second would attend them and then opened the door. They scrambled out of my house, tripping over each other to get away, clothes and shoes bundled in their arms as they scurried into the night. All the while Veronica screamed.”
The humor drained from his face. “Veronica refused to go back to Exham. I don’t want to talk about what I had to do to get her there. She was unbearable when we reached home. She was also pregnant.”
Mia met his cold stare. She knew now that he was always at his most emotional when his expression was inhumanly cool and impassive.
“She was inconsolable after she gave birth to Melissa. I engaged a nurse this time, but the woman could not be awake every hour of the day.” He shrugged, the lines around his eyes and mouth deeper and more distinct. “She escaped and went to the west turret. It was a miserable night, so it’s hard to say if she had an accident or jumped. Either way, she died. There was no question of my having murdered her as I was asleep in my bed at the time. One of the footmen had seen Veronica leave the room and followed her.”
“Then how is it that everyone in London believed you killed her?” she demanded.
“People don’t require proof to believe anything, darling. They believe what they want to believe. They knew we’d hated each other for years and they made up their own, more interesting story.”
“Tell me about the duel.”
Adam gave a genuine laugh this time. “Oh, the older man took off to the Continent. The younger man showed up, so frightened he soiled his breeches. I gave him a bit of a thrashing and sent him home with nothing worse than a few bruises.”
“See, you cannot even hurt a man who deserves it.”
“Oh, he didn’t deserve either Veronica or me. He was just a boy.”
Mia didn’t agree with his assessment, but let the matter lie.
He tipped his head to one side and smiled. “Actually, it feels rather good to tell the story to another person.”
“You’ve never told any of this to anyone?”
“Who the devil would I tell it to?”
“I don’t know—perhaps your second wife?”
“I doubt I exchanged above a hundred words with the girl. Poor, poor Sarah.” He shook his head. “My second marriage was a mistake only I can claim.”
“What rubbish! She spoke the words, did she not?”
“Yes, she did. But she had no choice in the matter.”
“How is that?”
To her surprise, he colored. “I beat her father in a card game—took everything he had. When I went to inspect my winnings I found Sarah there, living alone in a house with a couple of old servants who’d been too loyal to leave her.”
Mia gasped.
“It seems she’d been living that way for some time. She had no money, no family—her father had disappeared not long after our card game—and no place to go.”
“So you married her?”
Adam nodded. “So I married her.”
“But what . . .”
“What happened? Well, it turned out Sarah wasn’t as alone as I’d believed. In fact, she was already pregnant when we wed.”
Mia shook her head. “Oh, Adam.”
“You seem to be saying that a lot tonight, my dear.”
“You found out and divorced her?”
“Oh, not at all.” He laughed at the shock he saw on her face. “I was perfectly willing to accept the brat as my own—why not? If she’d had a son, he’d be my heir and that would have been a relief. I’ll tell you another secret, my love—I never consummated my second marriage.”
Mia blinked.
“Sarah was such a frightened thing I never could manage to get past her terrified eyes and quivering lip. It must have been a month into our marriage when she fainted dead away while my mother and Jessica were receiving guests. It was my mother who told me she was with child. I was still trying to come up with a way to confront her on the subject that wouldn’t kill her with fright when she disappeared.”
“Oh, Adam, no!”
He chuckled. “Oh, Mia, yes. It seems she decided to contact the father of her unborn child, a curate from the vicarage where she’d lived, and let him know of her condition. The young man had apparently decided to drown his sorrows in missionary work after she’d married me and was on the verge of departing to some godforsaken place. He finally came up to scratch and took Sarah with him.”
“How did you learn all this?” she asked in wonder.
“I hired a man to investigate her disappearance. It took him almost three years to trace them from Liverpool to some wretched village in India.”
Mia tried to image it—what her husband must have felt when his third wife had run from him. She swallowed her shame, vowing to show him how much she loved him to make up for his hideous past.
“What did she say when your man found her?”
“Nothing.” His mouth was grim.
“Nothing?”
“She was already dead, both she and the curate. Apparently, they’d arrived in the midst of a cholera outbreak. For the second time I found myself a widower.”
She went to him then, leaving her blanket behind and crawling into his lap.
“Are you sorry for me, my lady?”
She nodded, too shaken to speak.
“You should be worried about yourself—after all, wives of mine don’t fare well, even if I don’t have an actual hand in killing them.”
She sniffed, holding him even tighter. “Adam?”
She felt his lips against her hair. “Mmm?”
“I love you.”
His body froze against hers, his breath warm on her scalp.
“I should have told you that a long time ago. I think I’ve loved you from the night you took me to the theater and I saw you with your friends.”
He remained silent.
“Loving you should have made my life easier, but all I could think was how you’d married me only for an heir and that my love would be the last thing you would want. Mostly, though, I didn’t think of it at all, instead delaying my plans for escape to live in the moment. I’m so sorry.”
“Shhh,” he murmured into her hair, stroking her back as he held her.
Tears rolled down her face. “I just want our marriage to go back to the way we were before Brighton.”
“We can’t go back, Mia.” He pulled away from her and looked down, brushing the tears from her face with his thumbs and smiling. “Besides, I think we should go forward and make our marriage even better.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The storm lasted for two long days but the weather for the rest of their journey proved smooth—both inside the ship and out. Adam would never have believed it, but he was enjoying himself hugely. In some ways it was almost a wedding trip, albeit with a shipload of strange men along for company. The trip would have been completely free of worries had his wife not been headed toward a man who wanted to kill her.
He and Mia made love and talked as they’d never done before, even during those first heady days of their marriage. She told him of life in the sultan’s palace and how she’d decided early on that she would not be angry or self-pitying, but work to make a better life for her son. He told her of his childhood, his life at school, and the years he’d spent alone after his last marriage.
After that first week they’d taken to sharing their evening meal with Bouchard and then playing cribbage or a three-handed game the Frenchman knew called nines.
Dangerous Page 26
