Alexandra Benedict - [Too]

by Too Dangerous to Desire

“Not tonight.” The duke muttered under his breath so only Adam could hear: “Or any other night.”

  The brothers eyed each other. Both were eager to get out of the prince’s presence.

  The duke bobbed his head. “We bid you good evening, Prince Vadik.”

  “Good evening, Your Grace.” Eyes set on Adam once more, the prince said, “Good evening, my lord.”

  Adam offered a brisk nod before he retreated with his brother.

  The air stifling and hot, Adam was sweating. He battled nausea, too, the sickness in his belly compounded by the ravenous way Prince Vadik had caressed him with his eyes.

  Adam prayed Evelyn was still alive. He had to get to her; he had to save her from Vadik’s wicked hold.

  Once a safe lead behind the ignoble prince, Adam and Damian clustered together to keep the other guests from eavesdropping.

  “That lecherous son of a bitch!”

  The outburst from Damian.

  Adam was too pensive to express the heavy sentiments inside him, so dark and stormy. He gripped his midriff again, the pulsing wounds biting.

  “Adam, are you all right?”

  He gritted, “I’m fine.”

  A daunting figure approached.

  “What the hell do you two think you’re doing?” Black Hawk growled, “It was not part of the plan to communicate with the prince!”

  “The plan has changed,” said a discontented Damian. “Evelyn isn’t here.”

  The pirate captain scowled. “Are you sure?”

  “She’s ‘unwell’ and cannot attend the ball.”

  “Shit!”

  “She is here,” insisted Adam, gripped with an idea. “She is under guard, though.”

  “How do you know?” from the pirate captain.

  Adam spied the rabble. Hope burst into his breast. Evelyn was alive! She had to be because…“The henchmen are missing.”

  “So?”

  “So Vadik won’t leave her unchaperoned for fear she might run away again. We have to search the house for her.”

  It was the first real indication he’d had that Evelyn was still alive. If the henchmen were absent from the ball, they had to be guarding her!

  Filled with renewed energy, Adam started for the door.

  A firm hand gripped his arm.

  “Wait,” ordered the pirate captain. “We can’t just troll through the bloody house without arousing suspicion.”

  “There isn’t going to be anybody in the house,” said Adam. “Every guest is already gathered in the ballroom.”

  “And the servants?”

  Adam pointed to the scalawag Quincy dancing across the room. “Do you see how he smiles at his dance partner? Just make him smile like that at the maids.”

  The captain said dryly, “I’m afraid his charm won’t work on the footmen.”

  “Then do what your other brother, Edmund, suggested: Break their noses!”

  Black Hawk gnashed his teeth, evidently disgruntled by the unplanned turn of events. “Wait here,” he ordered Adam. “We can’t all leave the ballroom at the same time.”

  The pirate captain turned on his heels and positioned himself in view of his brothers. One by one he made eye contact with each sibling, indicating a shift in tactics.

  William slipped out of the ballroom first. He politely excused himself from the amiable company surrounding him. Edmund was next to go, followed by Quincy. The young scamp kissed the gloved hand of his sweetheart before he discreetly strolled off the polished marble dance floor.

  Adam and Black Hawk departed together, leaving the duke behind. Damian was charged with the duty of distracting the prince should the royal villain attempt to quit the ballroom too soon. Prince Vadik was clearly captivated by the “Duke of Rogues,” considered him a kindred spirit. And while Damian might loathe the undertaking, it was a necessary component to their new plan.

  Now to find Evelyn.

  “Why is the west wing forbidden?”

  Adam eyed the scoundrel Quincy from a dark corner with unease, but he soon realized the young scalawag was a proficient flirt, for he had the maid blushing and giggling in a matter of moments, her chores forgotten.

  Adam should resent the brigand’s mendaciousness, but in truth he was grateful for Quincy’s charm. It was a bloody uncomfortable admission to make, but with the wounds at his breast sapping his energy, Adam needed the cunning pirates to assist him with the rescue.

  “I can’t say, sir,” said the maid in a bashful manner.

  Quincy smiled. He pressed his lips to the girl’s ear and murmured a few choice words.

  She colored and whispered back.

  Quincy gave her a sound kiss on the lips.

  She gasped…then giggled…then quickly skirted back to her duties.

  Adam eyed the cocky kid as he swaggered back down the passageway and slunk into the shadows.

  “Well?” growled the pirate captain. “Did you learn anything useful?”

  “Aye,” said Quincy. “The west wing is the prince’s private quarters. The staff is under orders not to disturb his rooms.”

  “Then let’s go to the west wing,” said Black Hawk.

  Adam followed behind the buccaneers, clutching his bleeding midriff. He was careful not to reveal his pain. The pirate captain might order him to return to the ballroom, and he was determined not to do that. If Evelyn spotted four strange brutes coming for her, she’d head for the nearest window. Adam was sure.

  At length the group of men paused in another unfamiliar nook of the house.

  Black Hawk motioned for Adam to step forward.

  “The henchmen?”

  Adam spied around the corner—and gnashed his teeth. “Yes, the henchmen.”

  Four slaves to the prince’s every wicked whim. One had an arm in a sling: the beast Adam had shot. Another had visible bruising across the face. Even Dmitri was there, the cursed devil!

  The savages circled a particular door like stone sentries, drawing Adam’s attention. He eyed the wood barrier with hope and longing. Evelyn had to be inside the room!

  “Let’s go,” whispered Adam.

  The pirate captain pushed him against the wall. “Stay here, Adam.”

  “Like hell—”

  “Stay out of the way until we crush them.” Black Hawk eyed him with dark intent. “The henchmen will recognize you and sound an alarm; you’ll foil everything.”

  He would foil everything?

  “Besides, you’re in no condition to get involved,” said Black Hawk.

  Adam bristled. Could he trust the brigands to restrain the henchmen alone? Every fiber in his being screamed, No! But every fiber cried out in agony, too. The weakness in his head, his breast confirmed the pirate captain was right. Insightful, too. He had observed Adam’s failing condition, but he hadn’t ordered him back to the ballroom. Adam should be grateful for that, he supposed. He offered a curt nod of accord—even if it was against his better judgment.

  Satisfied with Adam’s compliance, Black Hawk turned to his brothers and said in a low voice, “Ready the pistols…and ruffle your cravats.”

  The men obeyed without question, feeling for the weapons concealed behind their backs and tugging at their neck cloths.

  Adam, however, was curious to know how ruffled cravats were going to help them defeat the devils…

  The pirates emerged from the shadows—inebriated at that.

  Footfalls staggering, voices slurred, the pirate lot approached the henchmen under the guise of foxed and disoriented guests.

  Adam observed the entire charade from his vantage point, begrudgingly pleased to have the brigands as allies.

  “Stop!” ordered a henchman. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

  “Here?” Edmund echoed and twirled on his heels. “Where is here?”

  “Here is there,” rhymed Quincy.

  Edmund grouched, “There is where?”

  William scratched his head. “I thought there was here?”

  The henchman growled
an oath at the annoyance and approached the brigands. “There is the ballroom and it’s where you should be right now.”

  Adam blinked.

  It was lightning-quick, the assault. All four henchmen hit the woolen runner, stunned. Two clocked over the head with pistols, one rendered senseless with a solid jab right between the eyes, and another knocked against the wall with enough force to shake the paintings.

  Adam emerged from behind the corner and briskly stalked toward the door the villains had been guarding. Palm sweating, he reached for the handle with eager resolve.

  “Wait.” Black Hawk lifted a hand to prevent him from opening the barrier. “There might be more sentries inside.”

  The pirate captain aimed his pistol at the door and slowly lifted the latch. After a quick glance around the bedchamber, he pulled back the weapon.

  Adam kicked open the door and walked into the room. Heart throbbing, he cried, “Evie?”

  It was a large chamber, fit for a princess. A floral motif on the wall. Frilly curtains and embroidered bed lace. Furniture upholstered in pink. Wood whitewashed to glow like ivory. It smacked of high-end, feminine charm. There was even a small round table beside the fireplace, set for an intimate dinner with dishes and flowers and a bottle of wine.

  But there was no Evelyn.

  Adam’s heart dropped. “Where is she?”

  Quincy moved toward the bed and flipped back the covers.

  No Evelyn.

  Edmund headed toward the wardrobe and tossed back the doors.

  Still no Evelyn.

  William peeked into one of the adjoining salons.

  Empty.

  Black Hawk peered behind the curtains.

  Nothing.

  The blood in Adam’s veins burned. “Where is she?”

  Thump…thump.

  The men stilled and listened.

  Thump…thump.

  The baffled pirates moved about the room, looking for the source of the noise. They tossed aside furniture, pressed their ears to the walls.

  “What the devil?”

  Adam spied Quincy with his ear against the ornate headboard. “What is it, kid?”

  Quincy said, “I think the sound is coming from the bed.”

  Adam rushed over to the structure and pushed Quincy aside. He placed his ear against the wood and listened.

  Thump…thump.

  The noise was coming from the bed…under the bed.

  Adam dropped to his knees and fumbled under the bed frame. The pirates quickly gathered around the structure and reached into the darkness, too.

  Fingers hit wood.

  Adam wrestled with the smooth surface, but he could not grab a sound hold of it. At length he shouted, “Push!”

  At one end of the bedside, the pirates pushed. At the other end, Adam yanked.

  The coffin appeared.

  Chapter 16

  Powerless.

  Evelyn was powerless to move, to see, even to breathe. The stale air in the coffin was making her light-headed. She sputtered and coughed, screamed silent screams.

  There was a kerfuffle, a distant mesh of voices. She kicked against her tomb.

  Let me out!

  She choked on her tears. The smell of blood—her blood—filled her lungs as she scraped and pounded on the wood, her flesh raw and tattered from the abuse.

  Please let me out!

  Icy fingers of fright gripped her heart and squeezed. She gasped for air, the tiny carved notch in the coffin lid her only means of survival.

  More racket, shouts.

  A lock snapped.

  The coffin opened.

  Fresh cool air…blinding candlelight…freedom.

  Evelyn cried out. She reared up with such swiftness, the blood rushed to her toes, making her dizzy and faint.

  A set of strong arms crushed her, offered her the strength she had lost.

  “I’ve got you, Evie.”

  A voice.

  It was familiar, comforting. She couldn’t see the man; she was blind with tears, but she cleaved to him the moment he gathered her into his embrace and lifted her from the tomb.

  She was soaked with sweat, her pulse ringing in her ears like thunder. It was hard to breathe, each gasp a desperate pant.

  “Calm down, Evie.”

  But she couldn’t. Her heart beat wildly. Her blood rushed through her body at a mad pace. She couldn’t relax her muscles, so stiff and rigid with terror. She was cramped and in pain, confused.

  Evelyn could feel the bed beneath her aching limbs, the feather tick soft and warm.

  “Take a deep breath, Evie.”

  That voice again!

  The man rubbed her cheek, bussed the crown of her head. She could feel his other large hand stroke her damp and shivering spine, the ministrations soothing.

  He whispered something. She couldn’t understand the words, but the sound of his voice, the tenderness of his touch were enough to still the rampant thumps of her heart.

  At length she focused, blinked away the tears. She lifted her head, buried in the man’s chest, and glanced up to look at him.

  Adam.

  Her heart shuddered.

  He rubbed the dampness from her cheeks with his palms, his eyes trained on her with such fiery purpose. He whispered, “It’s over.”

  She believed him. The darkness in her breast, the suffocating chill were ebbing away.

  “Thank…” She croaked. The air was stale in the coffin, so her throat was dry. Wounded, too.

  Adam cupped her chin and gently tilted her head back to examine the injury at her neck: blooming marks left behind by the henchmen’s deft grip as he’d dragged her from the cottage.

  Under candlelight the bruising must look horrendous. The grim expression across Adam’s face indicated it was ghastly.

  In light wisps, he stroked the sore spot at her throat, his eyes a burning sea of blue. “Don’t speak,” he murmured. “Let your throat heal.”

  Evelyn was trapped by the dark fire in Adam’s eyes, the ginger touch of his thumb and forefinger, the comforting timbre of his low voice.

  She blinked, stunned by the bewitching effect he had on her. For a moment, he had made her forget about her miserable ordeal. But just for a moment. The truth of her frightful predicament blustered its way to the center of her thoughts, quashing the brief, warm sentiment she had had of Adam.

  “We have to get you out of here, Evie.”

  We?

  Evelyn peeked over her shoulder, stunned. There were four devils surrounding the bed. Four very handsome devils, even with their rumpled attire and mussed hair. She could tell they were devils; she sensed it intrinsically.

  And they were staring at her with that look.

  Evelyn quickly turned her head to shield her eyes.

  “It’s all right,” said Adam. “They won’t hurt you, I promise.”

  But she still trembled. The other men looked so villainous. There was something in their eyes, an aura of brutality.

  “Drink this.”

  One of the devils approached the bed, a bottle in his hand. He was young and dashing in a formfitting ensemble. He offered her the wine, encouraged her to take it with a soft smile. But Evelyn wasn’t fooled by the charming gesture and refused the refreshment.

  At length Adam took the bottle and popped the cork. “Drink, Evie.”

  The inviting smell of fermented grapes was too heady for her to resist. Even with so many pairs of eyes staring at her, she accepted the spirits and ravenously drank to douse her parched and aching throat.

  “Can you walk?” said Adam.

  Revived by the cool tonic, she slowly eased off the bed with confidence.

  But her legs buckled.

  Adam grabbed her, snuggled her against his chest. “I’ll carry you.”

  He took the bottle from her hand and put it aside. But when he stretched down to gather her in his arms, a sharp expression of agony crossed his face.

  She quickly recovered her voice to demand, “Ada
m, are you all right?”

  He looked pale, battered with fatigue.

  Another devil stepped forward then, the biggest and most intimidating of the four. “I’ll carry her.”

  Evelyn shied away from the man.

  “No,” said Adam. “I’ll take her.”

  “You can hardly carry yourself,” returned the devil. “We have to get out of here before we’re discovered.”

  “I can walk,” Evelyn was quick to assert. She eyed Adam once more to impart, “Really, I can. I was just a little dizzy before. But I’m fine now.”

  Adam looked unconvinced.

  But Evelyn didn’t want to cause him even more discomfort. He appeared to be in great distress. And she certainly didn’t want to be in the arms of that other sinister-looking devil. She would find the strength to escape the house. Already her energy was returning, the crisp, clean air a rich stimulus.

  “Fine,” said the black devil. “Let’s move.”

  The men headed for the door, neatening their clothes and hair.

  Evelyn eyed the lot warily. Was Adam friends with the forbidding brood?

  But now was not the right time to voice her curiosity. She couldn’t even inquire about Adam’s ailing health. Or how he had found her. She had to concentrate on the flight at hand.

  Adam put his arm around her waist and encouraged her toward the door.

  Evelyn was very ready to leave the ghastly place behind. Her steps more determined, quicker, she moved alongside Adam with ever growing resolve and vigor.

  She paused in the doorway and stared at the unconscious henchmen sprawled across the floor.

  The recollection hit her soundly: four brutish fiends cramming her into the coffin, insensible to her screams.

  Adam tugged at her sleeve. “Ignore them.”

  Evelyn took his arm and swiftly followed the rest of the party, banishing the gruesome memory from her mind.

  She lifted her skirts—decadent layers of ivory glacé silk he had forced her to wear—and skulked through the lavish passageways, careful to avoid detection.

  As they neared the ballroom, the music and twitter of guests grew lively.

  Evelyn’s heart twisted with dread: dread that he would find her and prevent her from leaving the palatial house…order her interred within the coffin once more.