Again, Eve found herself responding to the passionate possessiveness of Adam's kiss. Her heart beat wildly. It was more than obvious that the scoundrel wanted her, but there was more to his touch than mere seduction. When he wrapped her in his arms, she felt a tender regard. His eyes were large and expressive. They revealed a need for her, and admiration. She felt her universe shift, as if the moon were eclipsed and the earth shook. Adam truly did care for her.
So, he was more than fond of her, but how did she feel about him? His touch sent her senses scrambling, and when she looked into that gleam of unbridled passion in his eyes, she felt desired and special. She loved that. But was this only desire? No. She knew now that, in spite of his teasing ways, she liked Adam, really liked him.
Eve's passionate response to his desire was temptation itself, causing Adam's hands to begin a quest. As he trapped her firm breasts beneath his palms, she gasped and he smiled against her mouth. His wordy wife was a hot handful, and she was his forever, even if she didn't know it yet. Perhaps tonight was the night she would learn.
Tugging down the neckline of her gown, he kissed his way across her silken chest and began to feast on her ripe breasts, the nipples puckering under his assault. He drew back for a scant few seconds to appraise her bounty. Her breasts were softer than the back of a baby duck, and the nipples like plump raspberries.
Adam's tugging on her nipples aroused her desire, and Eve loosed a heartfelt groan. She was burning up inside. How could she even think when his elegant fingers were doing such magic? Her back arched, and the place between her thighs was aching. She had never felt like this. "Oh, Adam…"
Eve's arching her back cast her more in the lantern light, and Adam lifted his head and stared down at the firm orbs that had been plaguing his dreams at night. They were as perfect as he had dreamed, all white flesh and deep coral nipples. Underneath those breasts her lacy white slip had bunched, causing the breasts to plump together. Adam sighed lustily. She was his for the taking, and he would take her again and again until he had her with child. Then she would truly be his, he reasoned dazedly. Captain Bluebeard could not object nor expect him to disappear into deathly obscurity if he had fathered a child with Eve.
She moaned, and Adam tugged on her lacy slip, trying to pull it lower. "Lovely. You're beyond beautiful, my dear." He tugged harder on the slip.
Ever practical, even in a dense fog of passion, Eve knew she needed to protest. Breathing rapidly, she gasped, "Careful, or else you'll tear it, and it's too costly too replace. It's one of Mrs. Freud's."
"Ah, a Freudian slip," he growled. He had heard of this from a courtesan or two: that Mrs. Freud from Bavaria was the most sought-after undergarment maker for the ton. She was also the costliest. "I'll buy you another—ten others."
Those words were like throwing cold water upon Eve. This time her gasp was not passion-induced. "With my father's gold."
Adam's lust had slowed his brain to a dull plod. "Of course," he replied, continuing to cover her neck and breasts with tiny nibbling bites. She was the queen of all temptation, his Eve. "I'll buy you a hundred of Mrs. Freud's slips," he remarked fervently.
Eve seethed, her passion turning to anger. Adam would buy her costly slips when the Towers might be closing down? What an idiot! She shoved him away. "You're nothing but a rapscallion and a rogue."
"And you are a tasty handful," he responded, his eyes glittering in the moonlight.
Adjusting her gown and costly slip, and stepping back, she glared at him, noting that once again she had failed to discourage him. Just what did it take? He was like some craggy mountain peak: always there, a force of nature to be reckoned with.
He took two steps forward, advancing on her, his erection more than apparent from the tight fit of his trousers. He ached from unspent passion and wasn't ready to admit defeat. However, he readily admitted he was a fool for having mentioned money. Eve desperately needed funding for her asylum, and he, beset by lust, had stupidly reminded her of the treasure from her father.
Momentarily, he thought about lying as he stared at her passion-plumped lips and her slightly askew décolleté. He could tell her that the chest her father gave him was now hers. Except the chest now held only a few precious stones, the rest having long been sent to Ireland to buy back the old family estate. Besides, he wanted Eve to love him for himself, not for wealth. He was just arrogant enough to want Eve to want him because he was the only man for her, the only man who would love her forever, warts, Hooks, lunatics, and all.
"You have absolutely no scruples," she accused.
"I have scruples coming out my ears. Just none where seducing my wife is concerned. And now, having seen the bounty that awaits, I don't know how I'll survive without tasting you further." He sighed. "And you desire me too, Eve. You can't deny it."
She gave him a look as she walked off, clearly affronted.
Chapter Twenty
Swinging in the Rain
The next day found Eve anxiously waiting to hear from either Frederick or Dr. Victor Frankenstein. At noon she received a note from the doctor telling her that he'd sent out some of his servants to try to find his adopted son. Dr. Frankenstein had admitted that sometimes Frederick got a screw loose, especially when he was drinking. He feared that, after such an embarrassment, Frederick would most likely go to some of his favorite taverns, and was probably dipping into his cups rather heavily.
Noting Eve's distraction, Adam had volunteered to go out and search Frederick's favorite haunts. He still wasn't back, and neither had she heard from Frederick.
Hours had passed since Adam left, and Eve found herself fretting. When he volunteered for monster retrieval, she had gratefully accepted, thinking at the time that having a helping husband wasn't such a bad thing, even if he wasn't real. She had even thought that perhaps Adam would give to her the gold he'd been given by her father. Eve had twisted that thought around in her mind, knowing that he cared for and was crazy for her. The same thought filled her mind now as she started down the hallway into the patients' ward. Would Adam give her his ill-gotten gains for her asylum, or he would keep it all for himself?
She sighed as she walked down the corridor. The asylum was unusually quiet today, with the exception of the rain that was thundering upon the roof and clinking into the gutters. Many people felt gloomy when it rained, but Eve loved the sound. She also loved the scent of freshness that each storm brought. Many of her patients despised the rain, especially the wereboar's widow, Mrs. Monkfort, who wanted to scrub each drop. Eve chuckled at the notion.
She had been summoned by her staff earlier to attend to one of Mrs. Monkfort's cleaning tizzies. Eve had put aside her worries and concentrated on helping the poor widow overcome her compulsive behavior, but after a good hour spent talking Mrs. Monkfort out of cleaning her shoes and watching her crochet that huge, white lace monstrosity, Eve had finally sighed in defeat. And when it started raining and Mrs. Monkfort opened her window and began cleaning the drops that landed on her arms, Eve's patience ended along with the session.
Glancing down at her sparkling clean slippers, Eve couldn't help but shake her head in amusement. Never had the asylum halls looked so clean. Even her footwear was—enough to eat dinner upon. Well, since her feet were so small, you could only fit a snack. The latter thought made her laugh aloud. Perhaps she should just hire Mrs. Monkfort as her housekeeper and relegate Mrs. Fawlty to nursing duties.
Crossing to the library, Eve jumped as the long mullioned windows shook with the force of the wind, large raindrops beating against the stone house in a loud tat' too. She hoped Frederick would be found soon. If he was indeed falling-down drunk, he could become quite ill if he collapsed in a gutter. Inflammation of the lungs—especially such expansive lungs—could be deadly.