Putting finger to chin, he remarked, "Not normally, no. But then, this is not a normal situation."
"Of course it's not normal! Nothing is normal here, not even my staff. This is an institution for the abnormal," she scolded huffily. Spreading her arms wide, she indicated not just the breakfast room but the whole asylum.
He chuckled again. "I meant the fact that you used to have an imaginary husband, whose imaginary shoes I am now more than willing to fill with my very real fleshy feet. I also have other fleshy bits to fill things with—and quite pleasurably."
"I am not willing to have you fill them, and that is that," Eve argued. She ignored the sensations his words were stirring in her. He was very handsome. "I shall tell my father that you are leaving. You can go on your merry way—to hell in a handbasket." Her desperation increased as her body continued to react to his proximity.
"No!" Adam said, slapping both hands down on the table. "And it is not open for debate. I will not leave." Her arguments were beginning to annoy him, especially as he could tell that Eve found him attractive. He knew it by the way she kept avoiding his gaze, and the feverish gleam he caught in her eye.
"No?" Eve echoed. Sadly. She had reasoned last night that his reluctance to leave was because he was in fear of her father. She needed to resolve that worry, which would leave him free to go on his merry, scheming way, causing mayhem and chaos wherever he went. Just not here.
"I think I shall domesticate quite easily," he said.
"In a pig's eye. The only thing domestic about you is your… clothes."
"You should see me without them," he retorted. "But then, if I were nude, I fear any thoughts of domestication would go right out the window."
Eve had a sudden image of Adam as naked as the day he was born. This image was accompanied by a sharp sensation in her gut, and her face flushed. She'd had the same vision last night in her dreams. Rubbish, and a dead man's pirate chest!
"You're blushing, dearest," he pointed out.
"Must be the kippers." She pointed a finger at the diabolical deceiver. "You are, without a doubt, the most conceited, conniving buffoon it has been my misfortune to meet, much less be married to—or not married to, or whatever! Now listen to me closely while I explain things to you. I will make things clear with my father, and then you may leave here. I will make sure that he pursues no vengeance. I have some jewelry you can take, and if I receive my funding I'll send you more. A thief couldn't ask for a better deal. You can take your ill-gotten gains and go without a care in the world. What more could you want?"
Leaning back in his gilded chair, Adam studied her, all masculine ire. He hated the fact that she thought he had a sad lack of character, and that he was for sale. He was, of course, but the price was love.
Hiding his anger, he replied, "You. I want you." That commanded her attention. "I want a family, a place to belong, and respectability and responsibility. It has been too long since I've known those precious commodities. Besides, Captain Bluebeard would have my liver if I left, no matter what you say or promise. He wants you married to me for life—to me, a real man and not some fantasy lover."
Well, that wasn't exactly true, he admitted to himself. The crafty captain had actually hired him for the short term. After he faked his death, Eve would be free to marry again. But Adam had agreed before he had seen her and recognized her for what she was: his soul mate. No one else was going to marry this woman, but him. He just had to win her.
"I don't want you! I don't need you! And most important, I don't respect you!"
Adam's face glowed bright with anger. "Watch where you step, my lady. You're treading on thin ice."
Her anger making her incautious, Eve ignored his warning. She forced the challenge, rising from the table. "How can I respect a man who lies his way into my life? How can I respect a man who was paid to be my husband? What kind of man would do that?"
Adam's features tightened and he stood, towering over her. "Sometimes you do what you have to do to survive. Sometimes hunger and cold do amazing things to one's scruples and dignity! Have you ever felt so hollow that you could feel your back through your stomach? Have you ever been so cold your teeth won't stop chattering even after you finally find a warm bed? So cold that your feet are like blocks of ice and you can't feel your ears? 'And gilded honor shamefully misplaced.'"
He was quoting Shakespeare. How interesting. "No. I'm sorry," she replied quietly.
It was several seconds before he nodded his head. "Apology accepted. But I've lived in some dark places with scant hope of light. Then, last night, I found a beacon. It was like lightning striking me, for suddenly I knew what I wanted."
He stared at her so intently that she could feel her breath hitch. Finding herself frustrated beyond anything she had ever known—including many battles with her old sea wolf of a Father—she pleaded vehemently, "You can't just step into another life."
Looking around, then pointedly back at her, Adam stated, "But I already have. You can't pry me away, my little jewel, wish me away, or force me to leave. I'm here. So buck up and get used to seeing me at the breakfast table. More important, in your bed. Preferably with you in it." He held out his arm. "Come; we have patients to see."
"Go to hell, whatever your name truly is. I have an appointment with a patient, yes. A private appointment."
He took her rejection with good nature. "Then have a nice morning, my love. Oh, and by the way, my first name really is Adam."
Eve's mouth fell open and she gaped. Surely the Fates weren't so capricious. It couldn't be so; the lecherous louse had to be lying.
"Be careful," her husband warned. "You might catch a fly. Or is Mr. Pryce still in bed?" He grinned.
Eve closed her mouth with a snap, her eyes shooting sparks. She hated both the fictitious fiend and her finagling father.
"It must be fate," Adam called over his shoulder. "The world is conspiring against you." Then he exited the breakfast room, just in time to avoid a flying cup. Life with Eve meant he needed to be well-off, he decided; it appeared he would be replacing a great deal of porcelain.
Outside the door, he shook his head, irritated. His new wife had quite a mouth and arm on her. Her father had been right when he'd warned that when his daughter wanted something, nothing stopped her. And Eve definitely wanted him gone. But then, Eve Bluebeard had never run up against the likes of him. She wasn't aware of it yet, but the little admiral had just met her Waterloo. He wasn't going anywhere for a long, long time.
The words he had spoken about respectability and responsibility were true; a long time ago he'd had both. A long time ago Adam's heritage had included a title: Baron Hawkmore. But betrayal had ended all that, along with the lives of his parents and younger brother. That tragedy and treachery had killed something soft and good within him—or at least, he thought it had until last night.
Once he had been a man to appreciate the beauty of a sunset on a windswept moor, or the purity of voices lifted in crystalline beauty in a church choir on a foggy Sunday morning. He had enjoyed the bonny sight of a mother strolling with her young sons in the early morning dew, and the laughter of a pretty lass dancing in the thick of a merry crowd. But that man had died a dozen deaths with the passage of time. Adam had learned to trust precious few, and that honor was ofttimes the only thing a man could call his own.
Yes, he had been brought up to believe in duty and honor, home and hearth. That giving love was as important as receiving it. Yet, somewhere along the way this had gotten lost. Perhaps he had taken a wrong turn in the icy winters of despair. Maybe he'd been traveling down hill when he should have been quickly climbing the peaks. He would probably never really know all his wrong turns and missteps, but his path had led him away from what he'd wanted to who he was now. And he wasn't sure who that was anymore.