Too Dangerous to Desire by Alexandra Benedict Page A

“Fight me like you would him.”
    Startled, Evelyn raised her blade to parry the blow.
    He lunged.
    She deflected the next strike, too.
    “Fight me, Evie!”
    But a numbness beset her at the thought of him , made her legs and arms wooden. She stum bled backward, pressed against the cottage wall. She was cornered, Adam’s blade aimed for her throat.
    “I can’t,” she whispered.
    The dark cloud of determination in Adam’s eyes softened. He sighed. “I’ve pushed you too far, too soon, haven’t I?”
    He lowered the sword.
    She dropped hers in shame. “I can’t do this.”
    “Evie, wait!”
    But Evelyn dashed from the garden, insensible to his entreaty.
    She was never going to be free of him . Even the mere thought of him had made her cower, foiled all the progress she had made with Adam. She could never fight him , much less win. And she had been a fool to think otherwise.

Chapter 7
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    velyn picked at the blades of grass in a blind
    and lazy fashion.
    “Evie?”
    She stiffened at his approach, but did not turn around to confront him. Twisting the meadow grass around her finger, she snapped it from its root.
    Adam hunkered beside her, blocking the sun light, casting her in shadow.
    “I didn’t mean to upset you, Evie.”
    “I know,” she said quietly.
    She wasn’t mad at Adam. She was angry with herself. Ashamed, too. He had such power over her, enough to render her weak and worthless. She resented him for it . . . but she feared him even more.
    “Come back to the cottage,” he said. “There’s still more to learn about swordplay. I won’t push you too hard this time.”
    She plucked another blade of grass. “I will never best him .”
    A firm finger tipped her chin upward. “You only think that because you’re afraid. But you don’t have to be afraid anymore.”
    She was met by a pair of striking blue eyes. Such a soft shade of blue, near gray. There was a softness in his countenance, too. Beneath the rugged features and hard expression, she sighted a mark of thoughtfulness—and was disarmed by the vision. So few had been kind to her over the years. Was Adam different?
    “Tell me who he is, Evie?”
    To quell the panic rising in her breast, she in haled an unsteady breath. How could she trust Adam? He was still a stranger in so many ways.
    And yet she was weary. Weary of keeping her troubles, her pain pressed deep inside. She was alone in the world. She had no one to turn to, no one to offer her a comforting hand.
    Yet Adam offered one.
    Dare she take it?
    “He is my brother-in-law,” she confessed.
    Adam stilled. Something changed in his ex pression. A dramatic anger flared; she could tell. Not toward her, but toward him .
    “And he murdered your sister? His wife?”
    She struggled to keep back the tears. “Yes.”
    “But why?”
    It chilled her to think about him , and she started to rock herself in comfort. “Because he likes to de stroy everything which is good, everything which is beautiful.”
    “Ella?”
    Evelyn inhaled a deep, salty-air breath. “Yes, my sister was very beautiful. She had hair like a night’s sky, and eyes . . .”
    “And eyes like yours?”
    She nodded.
    Adam stroked her knuckles in comfort. “And what does your brother-in-law want with you?”
    But even the soothing ministration of his touch was not enough to calm the icy fright that danced in her heart and snatched her breath away at the thought of her fate if he ever found her.
    Evelyn scrambled to her feet. “I have chores to do.”
    “Evie, wait!”
    He reached out to stop her, but she was too quick for him; she sprinted back toward the cottage.
    Adam took in a long breath to ease the rumble of rage in his belly. To murder one’s own wife? It was beyond foul. Though he was not so naïve as to believe each husband cherished his wife the way he had honored Teresa, it still revolted him, boggled him, the abuse.
    The distant shriek of gulls evoked a long dormant memory. He could still hear the echo of