"Do you think I'd laugh at you? Laugh with you, definitely, but not at you. And don't worry about Mrs. Fawlty's comments. Those wicked foreign women didn't tempt me when I was in Transylvania. I was faithful to you, my darling. My marriage vows were never broken."
Her eyes narrowed. "What utter rot," she replied.
"I dreamed about you last night. And I know I will again tonight," he said. "You are temptation itself."
"And you're full of blarney. Just like Fester. Don't think I don't know that," she answered. He was a charming liar, but a liar nonetheless. Yet he held a fascination for her rather like a rabbit did for a snake. He was an enigma, complex and capable. He also had expertise in using his good looks and husky laugh to best advantage.
But no, he was the enemy and a puppet in her father's plan. She would not be locked into any marriage, even with a man as attractive and intriguing as this.
"It's the truth, I'm telling you. You could drive me mad quite easily—mad about you, mad for you, mad without you, and mad that I hadn't met you sooner."
In spite of her many misgivings, Eve had to admit Adam appeared to fit in well here. It was as if he'd lived at the Towers for years. She frowned discouragingly, hoping he would leave her be.
He leaned back negligently, studying her, his face highlighted by lanterns and the moon. "Do you know how pretty you are when you smile? But I bet I haven't seen you smile more than twice since I've been here."
His words took her aback. "I'm a psychiatrist."
"Psychiatrists don't smile?" Adam asked with an amused expression. "Or laugh? Is that the hippocrytical oath?"
"Hippocratic. And of course they smile… we smile. But sometimes one forgets. After all, psychiatry is a serious business. When a doctor loses a patient, he loses a life, but when I lose a patient he loses his mind—and that's a terrible thing to waste," she said. "My patients end up living in total mental darkness, and sometimes in total fear. They feel guilty, sad, angry… Most know they aren't normal, and that is a heavy burden to bear."
Adam cocked his head to one side, pleased. Eve was finally opening up to him. "I always thought normal was just a varying degree of insanity. Is anyone truly normal? Can we define it?"
Eve glanced at Adam, surprised to find herself explaining about her work. But his expression was very focused, and she knew that he was listening—really listening—unlike most people she knew. "I think some are more normal—or what society would term normal—than others. Sometimes the sane can become crazy, it is true, but the truly insane live in reverse—with their madness a daily habit and lucidity found in flashes. The shadows and mist that fog their minds are so difficult to discover… I often feel like I'm sailing a ghost ship into uncharted waters. Somehow I must lift that fog in spite of the difficulties, and help my patients find themselves."
Her sincerity touched Adam in a place that had grown jaded by years of living to survive, years with women who had fornication on their minds while cheating on their spouses or lovers, or making a few coins. This petite woman in front of him was different, as his mother had been. When these women devoted themselves to a cause, it was completely.
"Do you know, Eve Bluebeard Griffin, that you are an admirable woman? A woman who knows her own mind and her strength. And best of all, you share yourself with those around you. In today's modern world, a woman still has to struggle with great obstacles to achieve her aims. You do. This same strength you bring to your patients. So, never fear you won't succeed, because I believe that you always will."
Eve didn't know how to take the compliment. Was Adam teasing her, mocking her, trying to flatter her into the bedroom? She'd be a fool twice over if she didn't notice the heated looks he had been giving her all evening. Actually, they'd been scorching looks, as they'd been since she first met him.
Ruthlessly she crushed all feelings of warmth for Adam. She would not be taken in by his manly charms. Adam was turning out to be many things, some quite opposing. He was bad, he was good, a pirate and a prince. He was a schemer, yet he had his own code of honor. He'd revealed a sharp wit along with a deceitful nature, but his words were often tempered with tenderness and generosity. "My father disagrees. He feels I'm wasting my life on land."
"Captain Bluebeard sails uncharted seas, so why shouldn't you sail into the minds of your patients?" Adam asked.
"The Captain wants me at sea," Eve remarked gloomily.
"But he wants grandkids more. Trust me. Give him a few, and see how his tune changes," he added.
Leaning closer, he grinned, his dimples becoming more prominent. Picking up her hand, he kissed it slowly, letting her see the fires of passion in his eyes. She felt her breath quickening at his close proximity and heated stare.
Adam's grin deepened as he noted Eve's reaction to his nearness. She might be difficult and carry more portmanteaus than the royal family, yet in spite of her faults she was a fitting daughter for the Captain, and a fine wife for himself. She would make strong babies—his babies. "I gallantly place myself in your hands to be of service," he said, "for the servicing." He couldn't resist teasing.
"Oh, you wretch," she began, and yanked her hand away.
"Oh, no, you don't," Adam said. He snatched her hand back. A flash of resentment filled him at her judgmental tone. Tapping the ornate gold band on her finger, he subtly reminded her just with whom she was dealing.
She opened her mouth to protest, so he leaned down to kiss her senseless. His lips met hers with a fierce possession, hot and demanding.
Adam's kiss, Eve saw, was different from that of the black-hearted Hook. Adam smelled regrettably delicious, and unknowingly she had been lonely for just this—the touch of a lover, strong fingers caressing and worshiping her, kisses that made her forget all her troubles. These kisses doused her anger and sent her emotions swirling like the wide Sargasso Sea. She felt entirely right in his arms. In fact, she felt perfect, as if she had been designed for him alone.
At first Eve fought, shoving at his shoulders and keeping her lips closed to his passionate assault. But now she relaxed a bit, and Adam gentled their kiss, slipping his tongue into her mouth. She was so soft and fragrant in his arms, and her lips were hot and sweet. He hadn't lied to her or tried to charm her when he told her that he was mad for her. His senses were crazy for her taste and feel. She called to him on such a primitive level that he felt like running away with her, ignoring all and sundry for one night in her arms.
For Eve, disaster had struck in the form of these eminently kissable lips. Her blood began to hum as the world faded. Strangely, she felt herself growing breathless, the kiss drawing her inward. It was a bold journey into swirling emotions and liquid-hot feelings. She was tumbling head over heels, awash with passion. Gathering her willpower, she tried to halt her treacherous emotions, but that was as useless as trying to stop waves crashing upon the shore.
Instead of cursing the liberties he was taking, Eve now nestled closer, pressing her bosom against his rock-hard chest. His lips were hot, demanding, and oh, so sweet, with a hint of wild cherries. He was all male, predatory as his hand began to pick the pins loose from her hair, letting the thick, shoulder-length waves fall free. His other hand moved down her back to mold the tops of her buttocks. He groaned. So did she.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Eve knew she should be outraged. Instead, she felt the place between her thighs grow wet with need. She felt a hunger in her stomach, and lower an ache that was bittersweet, needy, all clamoring senses urging her to mate. It was disturbing and earth-shakingly potent.
She clasped Adam's back harder, dimly aware that his kisses were dangerous as opium. He could become an obsession, with her appetite only whetted by his attentions, growing greater in need, she realized with dismay.