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.