The Reinvented Miss Bluebeard

by Minda Webber

  "Oh, dear," Eve remarked, a frown furrowing her brow. This was serious. Vampires had to have their native soil close at hand in case of accidents, since native soil aided greatly in their regeneration. It also helped vampires who had a tendency toward hysteria, calming their overwrought nerves. Sir Loring, more than most undead, was particularly grounded in his soil.

  Turning to the culprit in question, Eve leveled a stern look at her. "Mrs. Monkfort?!"

  The woman pointed an accusatory finger at the vampire. "I won't have all this dirt in my house. It's disgraceful and so, well… dirty!"

  "Mrs. Monkfort, it wasn't your dirt, and this isn't your house. It's mine. You had no right to throw away anyone's dirt, or even to touch another patient's belongings," Eve replied. "Where is the dirt?"

  "Where you'll never find it. Never."

  Sir Loring continued to whine.

  Teeter groaned. "It's an orchard in here, I tell you. Every day, a veritable new treeful of fruits. I must insist on higher wages. I can't take much more. Especially if I'm to do this sober."

  Adam silently seconded the butler's thoughts.

  "There's too much dirt," Mrs. Monkfort continued. "Too much nasty, nasty dirt. And naughty little bugs crawling around in it. We're got a long, long way to go before we're clean. And that bloody leprechaun isn't making my task any easier," she added, pointing.

  Eve glanced over to where Mrs. Monkfort was motioning, where Fester was digging up the flower beds. "Fester!" she yelled in outrage, spotting two very large holes near her orchids. "How could you?"

  At the sight of Fester's panicked face and his wife's fury, Adam couldn't help but laugh.

  Eve put her hands on her hips, incensed. Adam should be helping her halt this nonsense, but instead he was hysterical. Well, she would have a long talk with him and remind him of a husband's duty—both to a wife and to her mad patients.

  Fester turned a guilty glance their way and set aside his shovel. He knew better than to dig a deeper hole for himself, especially when Dr. Eve was wearing her little-admiral look. His ship was sunk.

  Placing a hand on his wife's shoulder, Adam narrowed his eyes in speculation. Could Fester's gold finally be here? He hoped so. What Captain Bluebeard had paid him had been a great help, but a man could always use more. Especially if he were to do what he truly wanted.

  "Fester, I think you should stop. You've upset Dr. Eve," he said with a hint of steel in his voice. "You're about to make her check herself out of a loony bin. We'll hunt down your gold later. After all, two heads are better than one. Right, old man?"

  The chagrined leprechaun thought about it a moment or two, then finally nodded and threw down his shovel.

  Eve shook her head, annoyed. But before she could begin a reprimand, a tiny voice from behind the Venus flytraps rang out: "Help me! Help me!"

  Both Adam and Eve glanced at each other, shock on their faces. The leprechaun shrugged. "Me hearing ain't what it used to be," he said. "I never heard no cry of help before."

  They cautiously made their way down rows of towering green plants and dense foliage, and Mrs. Monkfort scurried behind them. She wore a slightly guilty look. Ahead, half-hidden in shadow, three massive Venus flytraps rose from the corner of the room. Mr. Pryce was entwined in what appeared to be a large spiderweb, his hands outstretched and wrapped in white tendrils. He was staring in sheer terror at the large gaping mouths of the flytraps.

  But there was a bigger surprise. The spiderweb was the giant lacelike thing Mrs. Monkfort had been crocheting.

  Eve's jaw dropped open, her eyes round in patent disbelief. "Really, this is simply too much, Mrs. Monkfort!" she cried.

  The pitiful Mr. Pryce tried to flap his pretend wings, buzzing and shrieking in a high voice, "Help me!" He indeed looked like a desperate housefly.

  Everyone turned at once to glare at Mrs. Monkfort, who began dusting a massive fern next to her. Glancing up, a haughty expression on her countenance, she asked crossly, "What? I did only what needed doing. We don't need such fake flies in our home, especially not going around and buzzing respectable people who are hard at work. Yes, I wrapped him up in that lace cloth and set him in front of the flytraps, but he's the one who froze like that. It's not like the demented man is stuck. He could be free if he wanted." She waved a dismissive hand at him.

  Eve said frostily, "Mrs. Monkfort, this is cruel. Mr. Pryce is terrified of flytraps. How could you do this?"

  Noting Mr. Pryce's dejected, desperate expression, and Mrs. Monkfort's blush, Adam suddenly had a brainstorm of epic magnitude. The puzzle pieces clicked together all at once. "Mrs. Monkfort," Adam addressed the odd lady, "I do believe I know what's happening. Mr. Pryce is courting you in the only way he knows how."

  Surprise replaced the woman's arrogant demeanor. A slight smile crossed her thin lips; then she remarked, "No. I don't need a man buzzing about me, a fly in the ointment. Besides, he's got the personality of a gnat."

  "He doesn't have to bug you," Adam suggested. "He's not always hieing fly."

  Eve, catching on quickly, took up the reins. "No, he isn't. And Mr. Pryce is not just any man. He's quite wealthy in his own right, the third son of a marquess. So he sometimes needs a good swat. But how could you blame him for being taken with your charms? You know what they say about flies and honey… But he's also a werewolf, and wolves are noted for their faithfulness—as well as keeping themselves and their dens clean."

  Mrs. Monkfort stood quietly, preening at the mention of a clean den. "I should quash his pretensions," she remarked, stealing a glance at the trapped bug-man. "After all, Mr. Pryce lives here. It's a lunatic asylum, you know," she confided.

  Adam whispered to Eve, "No place else could these two meet."

  Mrs. Monkfort cooed, her gaze going all coy. Behind her, Teeter untangled Mr. Pryce from the crocheted web.

  Adam chuckled, and Eve shot him a speaking glance, but before either could talk, a loud rasping and banging drew their attention. Sir Loring the vampire was quietly but methodically beating his feet against the floor. He had lain down under several exotic ferns and vivid pink orchids, and was sniveling.

  "My poor soil. It's gone!" he moaned.

  The vampire was truly pitiable, and although Adam had never cared for bloodsuckers personally—due mostly to having been on the business end of several pointy teeth a time or two—he couldn't let the poor old fellow suffer.

  Leading Mrs. Monkfort quickly to the fly-man, he cajoled hurriedly, "Just think: Mr. Pryce is mad about you. To celebrate this momentous occasion, we should do something a little special."

  "What?" the washing widow asked. She fluttered her eyelashes at the flyboy.

  "Let's find Sir Loring's dirt—so he can be jolly too."

  Adam explained in his softest, huskiest voice. He didn't really expect the morose Sir Loring ever to be jolly, but he hoped for an apparent mild contentment. "You can take the dirt, but can you dish it out?"

  Mrs. Monkfort looked strangely thoughtful, then finally agreed. "All right. Perhaps I can wash it for him. I threw it in Fester's hole. The one over there by the orange tree."

  Giving her a quick peck on the cheek, Adam thanked her, and Mrs. Monkfort blushed becomingly. Unfortunately Mr. Pryce took exception to the kiss, and he took his new lady's hand and firmly walked out the door, the large spiderish blanket trailing behind the odd couple, still entangled about his waist.

  Adam just grinned.

  Soon afterward, Sir Loring's dirt had been restored to its rightful owner and Eve and Adam soaked in the calm after the storm of insanity. Eve shook her head and glanced around the garden.

  "Sometimes my patients do things that fly in the face of all reason. Imagine Mr. Pryce being held captive by that crocheted blanket!"

  Adam chuckled. "The imagination is a powerful thing," he said. And he should know—he'd been imagining the things he would do to Eve all night. Clasping her hand, he teased, "Alone at last. And in a place like this, crawling with manic monsters, solitude is not
easy to get."

  Admiration lit her face, and she stared up at him. "You were marvelous. You really should have been trained as a psychiatrist. I've been amazed that you instinctively know how to treat the patients, or at least help them with their troubles," she confided, staring at him with wonder. "You have hidden depths, my pirate husband. I do believe they are deeper than the Atlantic Ocean."

  Her admission stirred Adam deeply. He needed Eve, like his biblical namesake must have, for this woman was clearly made especially for him. His yearning for her defied all logic and physical boundaries. Somehow Eve had become everything wonderful and delightful to him, and she gave him determination to beat all of life's challenges. She was the laughter of a child, the cooling wind on a hot Caribbean beach, and the brightest star in the heavens. Infinity was found in her smile, and true goodness in her desire to help those less fortunate. "I adore you, my love, and I always will," he vowed.

  In Adam's eyes, Eve could see her beauty, her desire, and… yes, perhaps her destiny. She was all things to him, and that was a heady thought. Especially to a scientific-minded female who had not thought to marry.

  Eve smiled. She was through fighting against overwhelming odds, against Adam's dashing nature and wit. The time for pretense was over. Adam was like no one she had ever met. He was better even than her imagined husband, and that was saying something.

  "Such hidden depths," she marveled. "I knew you were trouble the minute I laid eyes on you. But aren't I the fortunate one?" She touched his cheek, her eyes misting with love.

  "Hidden depths, eh?" he remarked wickedly, smiling, keeping her tears of happiness at bay. Pressing her hand up against his suddenly painful erection, he said, "I have a feeling you have a few hidden depths as well. Depths I'm well ready to plumb. Do you feel what you do to me?"

  Eve suddenly felt feverish. Placing her hand on her chest she said, "I feel what you do to me." Her heart was beating madly, her breath coming in soft gasps. She wanted this man, wanted him with an intensity that was almost ludicrous. "What would you recommend, Dr. Griffin?"

  "Complete bed rest, with lots of Verbal Intercourse to keep you sane. And we must not forget good old' fashioned regular intercourse. Every night for at least a year or two—or perhaps even a lifetime," he suggested.

  "I concur, Dr. Griffin, with your treatment." And with that, Eve wrapped herself around him and hung on for dear life.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The Doctor Is In

  As she stared into Adam's eyes, the last of Eve's defenses came crashing down. She sighed with pleasure. She knew some women felt that losing their virginity was a dreadful experience. She knew some women hated to "do their duty" and let their husbands lie with them. But that was not the case. Not with her. Her body warmed at the thought of what magic they were about to make.

  Gazing down at Eve, Adam admired how her eyes sparkled like blue diamonds, how her nostrils were flaring with passion. His blood was surging, and the conservatory felt as though it had risen several degrees in temperature.

  Surrounding them were deep green foliage and brightly hued flowers. Eve lay upon his jacket beneath a massive fern near the Venus flytraps. Her rich auburn hair was now in a tangle about her shoulders, a visual feast. He had unbuttoned her bodice and her breasts spilled free. So firm, the coral nipples beckoned his lips to suck and cherish. Her gown was raised to her thighs and her skin looked very soft and pale. A sprinkling of freckles lay high near the nest of springy auburn curls. He wanted to kiss every adorable mark.

  Lowering himself hastily beside her, he moved his fingers quickly. Caressing her leg, he savored the way she moved, restlessly, shifting her weight from side to side. In a sense, this was a first for him: to truly make love to a woman, to love a woman with all his being. His other encounters had been lusty affairs of the body, but never had his heart been involved. "My treasure, my little jewel. I adore you."

  "I'm mad about you, too." His hands were wandering heatedly over her body. The touch of his fingers and the wonder of his mouth had Eve eager and hungry—hungry for experience, hungry for passion, and hungry for her handsome husband. She gasped with wonder as he suckled her breast. "Oh, Adam!"

  His kissed her hard, and her toes curled. Running her fingers up and down his back, she gloried in his body's strength. "Don't you need to be undressed for this? It seems I remember you promising something about burying the family jewels."

  In Adam's haste to undress, his trouser fly lost two buttons. His arms got tangled in his shirt. It was ridiculous, Adam thought; usually he was a master of seduction, yet tonight he was like an untried schoolboy. He admitted it to her. "You don't know how I've longed for this moment. I almost can't believe it's here." And at last he stood nude before her.

  Eve's body clenched in instant appreciation at the sight before her. Forget the fig leaves or modesty; she found herself unable to tear her gaze away from his proud form. He had powerful shoulders, the muscles of which rolled and bunched as he lowered himself to the floor beside her. He was tanned a deep golden color to the waist, and his leg muscles, though not large, were well defined and wiry. He was like a Greek statue come to life, a magnificent specimen.

  Slipping a finger inside her, he found her wet and creamy, causing him to groan at the sensation. She was tight. "You're so hot, darling. Just for me."

  She felt so many different feelings, actually: hot and yet clammy, tingling and beginning to ache. His fingers were long and well manicured—they were beautiful hands, pushing her thighs apart. It was shocking to feel his finger inside her, to feel his thumb pressing on the little nubbin of pleasure down there. But it was even more shocking to look down and spy his arousal, which jutted proudly out of a thick nest of dark brown curls. Soon it would push its way inside her.

  Eve had seen men's members before, unexpectedly sometimes on the Jolly Roger, when the pirates relieved themselves. Also, she'd seen them when Jack the Rip stripped off his clothes, or that time with Frederick in the rainstorm. There had been cadavers and patients in medical school, too, though usually she had not given them the same attention. But the truth was, none were as impressive as Adam's display, and she would just have to revise her opinion on Dr. Sigmund's theory.

  She lovingly touched the tip of his penis and watched it jerk. Giggling, she glanced up to see Adam giving her a tight little smile. "Hmmm," she said. "You look like a pirate bent on plunder."

  "I am," he replied, his voice taut with unleashed passion. "And I can't wait much longer. But darling, if you touch me again it will all be over before it begins."

  He leaned down and kissed her, his eyes heavy-lidded with passion. "Oh, Eve. I've been waiting all my life for you." Not only was he physically involved, but also spiritually. It was almost unnerving to realize it.

  Running her fingers over his buttocks, Eve arched against him, feeling the tingling inside grow quickly into a rush of pleasure as he settled his weight between her thighs. Then she felt him at her entrance, probing and hard and hot. She gasped.

  Adam plunged deep inside, breaking through and into his wife's virgin's sheath. Somewhere deep within his sensual haze of possessive delight, he heard her shocked gasp. She was his! Glancing down, he saw her wince and bite down on her lip. Though he wanted to pump fast and furious, he patiently waited, watching, buried deep inside her. He wanted to cause her pleasure, not pain.

  Eve opened her eyes to find him staring down at her, an expression of tenderness in that burning gaze. "I think I could do without that last part," she managed to say.

  He lowered his forehead to hers, groaning in agony. "I'll never willingly hurt you again, my love." His flesh twitched within her, and his primal instinct urged him to thrust. But no. By a slender thread, he held on to his willpower to wait until she was ready.

  She moved just a bit, her muscles relaxing. The burning was gone, replaced by wanton need and lust.

  "I love you," he said.

  She moved again, and her breath came whispering out, her
eyes steady on his, a wicked smile on her face as she said one word: "More."

  Adam found himself laughing, and he withdrew, then plunged again and again into her. Tiny shocks radiated outward like a raging storm-tossed sea. Bracing himself upon his arms, he flexed his buttocks, surging deeper within her. He groaned, "Oh, my darling!"

  Hearing Adam's husky words made Eve experience a whole new sensation: feeling uniquely feminine. She had driven Adam almost insane with lust! It was a heady notion, and it deeply stirred her. She could feel something tremendous building within, too. She breathed deep, smelling his skin, a scent of earthiness mixed with musk. His flesh was filling her to overflowing, and she felt her wetness became a liquid gush. Spiraling skyward she felt herself swept under in a huge tidal wave of pleasure. Her toes curled until she felt that they would touch her heels.

  "Adam, my love!" she cried.

  The tremendous force of his wife's release had Adam clenching his teeth. His body tightened as he surged to follow. He thrust hard and deep, marking her as his mate. She was whimpering in delighted abandon, thrashing her head from side to side. At last he thrust hard and came with a lusty piratical shout. Deep within her womb his seed spurted, over and over until he felt the last shuddering release. Breathing harshly, he sank down upon her in sated weariness. And a beautiful thought came over him: Perhaps they had made a child this night. A child of love.

  He finally managed to muster enough strength to roll over, taking her with him, kissing her. Gazing down at her sweet expression, he managed an impish grin. "You're mine now, my love, forever. No matter what, come hell or high water or captains with hooked hands."

  Drowsy, feeling as if she had touched the stars, Eve laid her head against his chest. After tonight she wholly trusted her heart in his steadfast care. At one time she might have wondered if he would wound or break it, if he would be faithful. At one time she might have thought it better to remain alone. But love's grasp had set her free, and tonight she had become a woman.