by Minda Webber
"I don't know. Most of your doctor friends appeared to be fascinated with my little pretense," Adam said, his hazel eyes twinkling. "But by the way, couldn't you come up with a more original name than Adam? Adam and Eve? I feel like I'm in some farce called Original Sin in the Garden. Now all we need is the forbidden fruit." He gave her a wink.
Looking to the high vaulted ceilings, as if for divine intervention, Eve said, "You might have ruined my plans, and I could lose my funding. For that alone you should be walking the plank." But inside she was a cauldron of messy emotions. She was furious at her father, scared that he had learned her secret. And she was hurt that he'd deviously used it against her for his gain. And Adam—the man not only made her see red; she felt all hot and bothered whenever he gave her that pirate grin.
"I didn't ruin anything. I only added to your dull dinner party with my witty comments and dashing good looks."
"You can't just waltz in here and start ordering me about. I'm not a child!" Eve stamped her foot to punctuate the thought.
"Oh, I beg to differ," Adam remarked. "I have waltzed into your life with a zest that is, I must say, most inspired. It was probably those dance lessons. Of course, they got me into a tight spot in Strasbourg." Tight spot was an understatement, he conceded wryly. Due to an empty stomach and an emptier purse, he had been giving dance lessons to the Baron of Eudall's daughters, and the eldest had taken a fancy to him. She had picked up his steps with ease and later led him a pas de depux into a corner, giving sugary, hot kisses and a blatant treatment of his ront de jambe. Luck had been in short supply back then—else he would never have been teaching dance to tedious debutantes—and the baron had interrupted the impromptu waltz. Adam had managed to flee Strasbourg with his private parts intact, but just barely.
He managed a faint smile. "Isn't it fortuitous for all that I'm quick on my feet?"
Pointing to the door, Eve ignored the impostor's boastful manner. "Well, Mr. Lord of the Dance, why don't you take your braggart self and waltz right back out of here. I'm sure someone in London must be dying to give an aging rogue a chance to two-step. Just do it anyplace but here."
"Shrew," Adam teased, enjoying the battle. He also appreciated his luxurious surroundings. He liked beautiful things, and expressly enjoyed the easy life. Although, his wife wasn't exactly easy. He didn't mind some physical labor, especially when it came to fixing broken things. His wife liked to take broken minds and heal them, which meant that they were a match made in heaven. If only they didn't burn out before the true fire was lit.
"If I left tonight, people would say you drove me to it. They'll say your ill and vicious temper is why I stayed in another country for so long. That I'd rather deal with a blood-crazed vampire than my own wife. I couldn't do that to you, my little jewel."
"Read my lips! I am not your wife," Eve spluttered. She dropped her hands to her hips and stuck out her chin. Thieving pirates could be such stubborn louts, especially when they were after booty, but she didn't understand his tenacity. The man was like a bulldog. No matter how she denounced him, defamed him and demanded that he leave, all was to no avail.
Blinking, she noted nastily that he was still there, standing stolidly in her study like some lighthouse perched upon a rocky shore, enduring through the ages regardless of wind, waves, and storms. "Adam Griffin is nothing more than an illusion, a wisp of smoke—bad grog I had on a winter's night," she accused.
"I know that and you know that, but your servants don't. Neither does anyone else," Adam remarked as he leaned against the closet, legs crossed at the ankle, arms in front of him. "And I told your honored guests that I was back, that I would be treating our patients with you loyally by my side—like a good little wife should be."
Eve snarled, "Oh, no. You aren't coming near my patents, Mr. Whatever-your-name-really-is. You aren't a doctor. You haven't spent years studying the diseases of the mind. My patients walk a fine line, and I won't have you pushing them off it with half-baked theories and treatment."
"You're lovely when you're bossy, little admiral."
"Oh, go away."
"Like I said, what will you tell people? Here tonight, gone tomorrow?"
Eve had a ready answer. "I'll tell them that you had an emergency to attend, and had to make haste. Haste to Hades, if I had my way."
Adam snorted. "Now, now. Good little wives don't tell their husbands of just a few hours to go to hell." He lifted her chin with his hand and stared deep into her eyes. While only fools rushed in where angels feared to tread, still, he thought smugly, he was in good company in a madhouse. The place was jammed to the rafters with fools.
"How could you think I would leave you again?" he asked. "I've just returned to you, my darling. We need quality time together, and a quantity of it. We have merrymaking to manage and beds to muss. I say we start now!"
"Argh!" Eve's pirate growl burst forth in full force as she shoved him backward, losing all sense of propriety. "You impossible impersonator! Have you no shame for the sham you have perpetrated tonight? You are a villain of the worst sort, a seeker of booty and ill-gotten gains. And your acting abilities are far from laudable—they're laughable." She brandished a fireplace poker like a rapier, all agility and grace.
But in a lightning-quick move, he took it away from her. "How dare you disparage my acting? Not to boast, but I thought I was rather brilliant as your husband," he said.
He cast a wounded expression at her and placed a hand over his chest. "And I did dress to please you," he added. After a moment he said, "And by the way, I'm not immune to flattery, should you decide to try it."
She glanced at the fireplace poker in his hand. Reading her thoughts, he shook his head.
"I wouldn't try it. I'm bigger, badder, and faster than you are."
"You're an actor? My father hired an actor? We're doomed. Someone will recognize you."
"Now, don't worry your pretty little head. Only once or twice have I trodden the boards—when I needed a quick infusion of coinage. It really wasn't my style, all those dreary road trips into backwaters. Of course, there were legions of fawning women. And I did get raves for my performances. Tonight I outdid myself. No woman dead or alive—or undead—could have asked for more."
"Oh, what utter rubbish! You are far from perfect. No man is perfect," she stated emphatically. "Believe me, I lived with men on the Jolly Roger for twelve years, and it was far from jolly or perfect!" Eve felt like she was floundering in deep water, not unlike what she often felt when arguing with her father. "I won't have you for a husband. I positively refuse."
"You can't escape. If your fraud is discovered, you'll see no funding. Come now, Eve, you don't really want people to know what a little charlatan you are. You would be ruined, and all your woolly-headed schemes would have been for naught. Admit it. You're truly caught in the net, my dear."
Narrowing her eyes, Eve quietly despised him. Her fall from grace had plunged her into matrimony, and she wished her husband to the bottom of the sea. "Me, the charlatan? What nerve you have." But he spoke the truth. She could not dispute Adam's presence, and she knew it.
So did Captain Bluebeard.
And so did Adam, whatever his real name was. They had hoist her by her own petard.
Adam studied her closely as a myriad of emotions sluiced through her, from rage to hostility to culpability to irate resignation.
"I suppose he paid you well, my father?"
Her husband grinned. "But of course. And aren't you relieved to know that you aren't married to a fool? Of everyone he could engage, you should count your blessings that it was someone who didn't come to you with my pockets—or skull space—to let." Then he quieted, apparently believing he'd yanked her chain enough.
Counting to twenty to regain her composure, Eve drew a deep breath. She wasn't going to let him get another rise out of her; she was beginning to see how he teased her dreadfully just to get her dander up. "That remains to be seen," she grumbled.
Unfortunately, an infer
nally feminine part of her couldn't help but note how his hazel eyes twinkled and his lips curled up rather sweetly, while he was teasing her. She even reluctantly admitted that he would be quite handsome if he weren't her hoodwinking husband. She didn't want to find him attractive; not one whit.
He spoke again, apparently ready to go another round: "I must insist that next time I choose the guest list. That count was a pompous bag of wind, Dr. Crane is a yahoo if I ever saw one, and Dr. Sigmund is all ego."
Eve sank into a chair, her head in her hands. "I will never, ever forgive my fiendish father," she said.
Adam knelt before her, prying both her hands away from her face. "Come now, love, it's not that horrid a fate. Captain Bluebeard simply wants grandchildren to spoil in his old age." Rubbing her hands with his thumbs he added, "And I'm just the man for the task."
She wanted to yank her hands back, but the gentle rubbing motion on her palms was calming. She, better than anyone, knew what overwrought nerves could do, being both a psychiatrist and a child of a Bluebeard. "He'll be Captain Graybeard before I present him with one," she stated firmly. She had no intention of giving in to this slight attraction.
Adam chuckled. "And I was so looking forward to the begetting."
Shoving him hard, she snapped. "Oh, go away and leave me in peace!" She frowned, tempted to offer him a bribe in place of a bride, but she couldn't spare any coin. Every last one was engaged in taking care of the asylum. Besides, no booty she had could match the booty her father had already promised.
"Afraid I can't do that, my sweet. I gave my word to your father, and I am a man of honor," Adam replied. "Although, I must admit that when he approached me I thought he was stark raving mad. But after listening to the Captain's plan, I recognized its brilliance. Pretending to being Or. Adam Griffin is just what the doctor ordered."
"Honor, my fanny! You wouldn't know honor if it jumped up and bit your arse," Eve growled.
"Ah, but I do. And because of this honor, I could never betray your father. I have reason to be indebted to Captain Bluebeard. Besides, he'd have me filleted if I ever crossed him. Therefore, without further 'I do,' I'm here to stay."
Eve knew her father's vengeful nature, and she wouldn't wish it on her worst enemy, who just now happened to be this handsome impostor. Without a fortune to tempt the so-called Adam, it appeared she was stuck with him. For now. Still, husbands had been known to disappear. And she was too tired to squabble any more tonight. She had concerns to take care of before finally being able to lay her head down on her pillow for the night, so she said, "Without further ado, I've got a patient to see." And she began to leave the room.
"It's rather late to be seeing patients."
"Not when you're a psychiatrist and and the patient is a vampire."
Adam's brow furrowed. He opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it, saying instead, "Be careful out there."
She ignored his face and words, as well as the hint of concern in his voice. She was just plain weary, and still had a patient to see. Tomorrow she'd start planning the impersonator's departure. She could outwit this rogue or she wasn't Bluebeard's daughter.
Chapter Nine
An Apple a Day Might Keep Adam Away
Upon awakening in the morning, Eve was irritated at discovering her bedding in wild disarray. Not surprising, she mused. Her dreams had been vivid and frightening in their content, filled with pirates trying to pillage her ports and kiss her senseless. She climbed out of bed and, instead of waiting for her maid to help her dress, began to slip on undergarments, her mind rolling over possibilities, trying to come up with a foolproof plan for getting rid of the fool posing as her husband. Unfortunately, for all her plotting, Adam wasn't just anybody, since he was in league with her father.
Buttoning up her dress, she shook her head in frustration. Two against one wasn't the best of odds, especially since both Adam and her father were of the pirate persuasion.
As she took the long stairs down to the breakfast room, her mind was consumed with getting rid of Adam. Today was a brand-new day, a day in which she would not let Adam's charming manner or his infectious grin deflect her from her mission of trying to remove him. Furthermore, her mind was quickly sorting through solutions on how to get even with her father. Retribution was a foregone conclusion when your name was originally Bluebeard. The sneaky old scalawag would be lucky she didn't hoist him up his own mainsail!
Eve spied her quarry sitting at her breakfast table. His grin made her feel funny. Teeter, his expression correctly dignified and in somber costume, was serving him coffee.
Eve scowled, her appetite fleeing. Even the pleasant aromas of food were not enough to overshadow the unwanted company. Glaring at him, she wished fervently that the infernal impostor would find that he had bitten off more than he could chew and would take himself off somewhere else to digest it.
"Teeter, it appears Dr. Adam is staying for breakfast, so be sure to hide the silver," she said briskly, watching him load his plate with eggs and baked ham. Her husband took a bite of eggs with cream sauce and chewed with gusto.
"Very good, Dr. Eve," the somber—and now sober—butler replied.
Ignoring her sarcastic remark, Adam remarked, "Darling, you look lovely!" Glancing at the butler, he asked, "Doesn't she look wonderful, Teeter?"
"Lovely as a spring flower," the butler agreed, his manner placating and efficient despite of the slight hangover knocking at his head. But, today of all days, nothing would stop him from doing his duty with proper pomp.
"And not just any spring flower, but a rose in full bloom," Adam added, giving her a wink, thinking how wonderful his wife looked in her pale pink gown. It had a lacy bodice and was long-sleeved and cinched at the waist, which decidedly flattered her figure. "I daresay your beauty is such that ships have likely been scuttled and cities laid waste in your name."
"Indeed," Eve mutteted between clenched teeth. "What unmitigated gall you have," she added, staring at him, assessing, her mouth tightening. She didn't trust him an inch. He was in high spirits this morning, and certainly didn't appear to have had trouble sleeping, as she had, or trouble with his appetite. Absolutely no remorse or guilt? Wasn't that just like a pirate? A pirate at heart was always a pirate.
"It's amazing the number of thieves in London these days, Teeter," she remarked. "I wish that the Hanseatic League were still in service. They so loved to hang them."
Adam arched a handsome brow, then cocked his head to study her, his face a study of mischievous intent.
Seating herself gracefully, Eve next acknowledged her butler's compliment. "But don't think I have forgotten last night, Teeter," she added. "Your misbehavior remains in my mind."
Teeter cringed, and his eyes filled with apprehension. He nervously ran his finger around his collar. "I must apologize for last night. My ill behavior was certainly not befitting my station."
"I fear this is a case of too little, too late," Eve scolded sternly, ignoring the growing anxiety in Teeter's eyes. "I cannot and will not abide a drunken lout for a butler. You're on Hugo duty for the next month. And if he gets free and heads for the bell tower, then I needn't tell you what your next punishment will be."
"Certainly not, Dr. Eve," Teeter said. Misery filled his dark eyes. Her chastisement had found its mark, and her punishment too. No sane person liked Hugo duty; it was miserable. "But might I say in my own defense that—"
She cut him off with brutal efficiency. "Perchance you wouldn't be trying to offer an excuse? There is none. I expect my butler to attend my guests with dignity and restraint, not have him teetering all over the place, half-soused—no matter his name. Now, go about your duties and consider yourself beyond fortunate that I don't do worse. We'll finish serving our own breakfasts."
Watching the situation unfold, Adam curbed his impulse to laugh out loud. For such a petite woman, Captain Bluebeard's little admiral of a daughter certainly knew how to command. He wondered if the butler knew his ship was sinking.
"My, my, Teeter, is she always this high-handed with the staff?" he asked.
"Of course not, Dr. Adam," Teeter replied loyally, although he did sniff a little, his wounded dignity escaping in that manner.
"Adam!" The word was a warning, spoken with asperity and a glare that would have singed a stone gargoyle.
Bowing, Teeter left the room hastily, his shoulders hunched, slamming the door behind him. The paintings on the wall rattled ominously.
Adam winced and said, "You really must insist that he doesn't go around banging doors. He may be in an ill humor, but it plays havoc with the wallpaper—not to mention my nerves."
"Does it, indeed?" his wife replied. "Then I must be sure to raise his pay. And, by the by, he always does that." She happily helped herself to some freshly baked scones and clotted cream.
"Why do you keep him on?" Adam inquired.
"Not that it's any of your business, but he came with the place. He was my relative's retainer. And it's written in the will that he be retained until I can pension him off. That will be a good long while, since he has ogre blood. Still, all in all, he's a fairly decent butler. Well… he is at least used to dealing with difficult supernatural creatures."
Adam cocked a brow, inviting her to continue.
"My great-great-uncle wasn't the easiest of the undead to attend, yet Teeter managed quite well. As long as Teeter is sober, he's fine. When he's soused, that's another matter."
"That's an understatement," Adam said in an undertone. "He's an unusual butler, but then this is undoubtedly an unusual house. It's full of the dotty, the damned, and the simply bloody loony."
"We don't refer to patients as 'loony' or 'dotty.' And if you don't find the asylum to your taste, you could always eat elsewhere," Eve suggested sweetly. She shot him a mean little glare and took a sip of tea. "I'm sure there are many other places to loot and pillage." Setting her teacup down, she said, "I wish you a brisk breeze to anywhere you wish to sail. Like purgatory," she added under her breath.