He bowed. "I live to serve. Besides, I feel it's rather more than obvious that I have a certain finesse and leadership skill."
"Rubbish! Next time ask the doctor about her patients before you go ahead with any of your harebrained schemes," she said. She was unwilling to concede that Adam's picnic was coming off splendidly. Perhaps her patients did need to make merry, but this audacious man was just too smug for his own good. She didn't care that the dimples in his cheeks were unfairly appealing. And she was too wise to be taken in by his performance as a devoted spouse. The man was, after all, a dangerous deceiver, a great pretender.
Looking smug, Adam placed a hand theatrically over his chest. "Isn't it lucky, then, that I am a doctor."
She blasphemed once, then again for good measure.
"All by your invention!" he continued. "Keep that in mind, sweetheart."
She was quite the little handful, but he would be devout in his attentions. Even seeing her cursing him to the high heavens—and the nine levels of hell—Adam fully believed that a mixture of teasing, thoughtfulness, tenacity, and a tumble in the asylum, a tumble in the garden, and a tumble in the bell tower—or anywhere else, for that matter—would eventually win Eve over. Yes, they would settle down in this cuckoos' nest and raise a fine, attractive brood.
"Argh! You're driving me around the bend!"
"Shall I get the carriage, or the high-perch phaeton? Any particular route you wish to be driven? Shall we go fast or slow? I do like both methods—depending on the occasion, of course."
She stormed away, all ladylike pretensions vanished, her heart beating rapidly. He was a master of the lurid phrase. He was dangerous. Therefore, she would eventually roust him, rout him, and rally her defenses against him, by using her wits and her wile. "Or my name isn't Eve Bluebeard Griffin," she swore resolutely. Then she thought a moment. "Well, it isn't really Griffin." She was honest to a fault.
Chapter Fifteen
Mad About You, Mad at You
The night sky deepened to a dense black, with light from only a scattering of stars and the glow of the moon. As Eve made her way around and visited with her patients, she searched earnestly for any signs of mania or violent behavior. Instead she found laughter, betting, and light flirtations, and only discontented grumbling from those who usually were of a stern and unhappy nature. Relaxing her vigil, she sat down upon a marble bench beneath two massive oaks. A half dozen lanterns above her lighted the trees, while she watched the picnic in progress. She shivered slightly, though she did not know whether from the cooling night breeze or the acknowledgment that she had met a worthy and sly foe in Adam.
"I have more important things to think about than him," she muttered. "Like Mr. Carlen."
Eve was happy to note that for once the gargoyle wasn't in his catatonic state. Although he was a cold man at the best of times—rather stone-faced and denigrating—tonight he was alert, and even now was speaking warmly with Major Gallant. Their conversation was for the common good, since he was keeping the major occupied. Major Gallant hadn't yet charged around the garden. Rather, he was standing with his hand in his jacket, wearing his ridiculous hat.
To Eve's right, Mrs. Monkfort was surveying the ground around her and muttering about dirt while wringing her hands. Hugo was tossing marbles in the air nearby, while the wily Fester was snatching at one or two of his marbles and grumbling. Something about a black witch who was in league with the House of Lords? Eve thought she heard Fester remark that the witch had cursed the marbles.
Eve shook her head. Searching for the why and how a patient slipped away into a netherworld could be likened to searching for a hidden treasure, with only an aging map with missing pieces to guide the way. And yet, the search for this buried treasure was probably one of the most important searches in the world, as well as being one of the hardest and most frustrating.
Watching Eve from the shadows, Adam smiled faintly. The antics all around faded into the background. He felt at peace, here, because there was an odd kindness, and comradeship as well. Dedicated in his youth to overcoming betrayal and obtaining worldly goods, he had forgotten the wealth of home and hearth. The peaceful contentment of knowing a loving household had faded into a vague memory.
But in the blink of an eye his world had changed. Strange that he would find happiness here, of all places: yet he had known the moment he had seen her, just as his father had known the moment he spied Adam's mother.
Like his grandfather before him, and his greatgrandfather before. All those men had felt something upon meeting the only female in the world for them. It was bred into Adam's bones, the heritage of all Hawkmore men to instinctively know their mate. He felt blessed this good night, because he had a wife called Eve, a home, good friends, and a worthy occupation—all lay before him in a deranged and daunting splendor.
Yes, it was bizarre that he should find himself quite comfortably entertained and content in a lunatic asylum, but so be it. Fate was a fickle mistress, with a highly developed sense of the absurd. But he truly liked many of the people he had met. He regretted the fact that he would have to double-cross Captain Bluebeard—being both a man of common sense and honor—but there was no hope for it. Once a Hawkmore male found his mate, nothing stood in his way—not even a cutthroat pirate like the captain.
He looked his fill. The softness of the lantern light accented the beauty of Eve's heart-shaped face. It set the reddish highlights aflame. She appeared some pagan fairy princess come to earth in the dark hours before dawn, and if he had some fairy dust on hand then her anger and distrust would vanish before he could snap his fingers. Sadly, there was never a true fairy around when a person needed one, for they were a secretive and elusive lot.
Adam strolled over and sat down next to her. Once seated, he pressed his luck by moving his long, muscular leg next to hers on the marble stone bench.
"What are you doing, stalking me like a shadow? I didn't ask you to sit down," she complained haughtily. "And tell me that's not your thigh crowding mine."
Her rudeness didn't bother him; he had been insulted too many times to count in his past misadventures. So he said, "What refreshing candor. But it leads me to believe that you have a fear yourself, Doctor." He stroked his bottom lip.
"What utter nonsense. What fear?"
"The fear of intimacy."
"How ridiculous," she scoffed, then quickly added, "Move your leg; it's too close."
He laughed at her discomposure as Mrs. Fawlty strolled up, Teeter at her side. "Ah, young love," the housekeeper said. "So fine and so lusty." She gave both Adam and Eve a crooked grin. "Are ye up to something naughty, Dr. Adam?"
"Oh, indeed," he replied with roguish intent, the dimple in his cheeks showing. "A doctor does what he must, and a husband—well, his work is never done."
"That's a fine thing. You're right back where you belong—in yer wife's bed. Ye'd best stay there."
"Wild werewolves couldn't keep me away," Adam promised. "For no other woman can compare."
Mrs. Fawlty nodded happily. "See that you keep him, Dr. Eve. Them wicked foreign women know things, so you'd better keep on your toes. German women are some of the best cardplayers—especially when they play without clothes. Frenchwomen are the best kissers. Now, you take them Russians? They fair heat up the sheets, so I'm giving ye some advice me old ma gave me, Dr. Eve. Don't go to bed mad, or any other place. And you might try kissing a bit more. Men like that, ye know."
Hearing a stifled chuckle beside her, Eve elbowed Adam discreetly in the ribs. As the older couple strolled away she said; "Don't you dare laugh."