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Hands still shoved in his pockets, Adam glanced down at his blood-splattered shoes. He rather thought she wouldn’t like it if he made eye contact just now. “And you think this somehow makes you evil?”
He felt her turning. Only then did he do the same. Wide, brown eyes gazed up at him. “Doesn’t it? What sort of person laughs at death?” She was almost shrill, panic creeping into her words.
“Are you telling me that you felt pleasure at seeing their deaths?” Adam asked.
Instantly her nose wrinkled. “No. God, no.”
He shrugged. “Then you are far better than I. It gave me great pleasure to cleave their heads from their necks.”
She made a noise of irritation. “But I laughed —”
“Eliza, love, people have all sorts of reactions when distressed. Some even laugh. I knew a warrior by the name of Godfrey. Brave, strong, skilled with the sword. Wore his flame-red beard long and pointed, and his foes often thought him the devil come to claim their souls.” Adam’s throat constricted as he thought of his old, long-dead friend. “And he was pious, devoutly so. Yet every time we’d pray after battle, he’d laugh.”
A smile lit through him. “He’d try to stifle it. His great shoulders would tense. A gurgle would sound at the back of his throat. And then, a small snort.” Adam glanced down at Eliza, and he found himself chuckling. “All it took was that one snort, and he’d go off like a lit fuse. Worse, once he laughed, we all fought not to, too, for the poor bastard had a laugh like a braying ass.”
Eliza bit the bottom of her lip, clearly fighting back a smile as well. “I cannot imagine a big, bad knight braying.”
“It was how he reacted after a battle. Understand, we’d work up this tremendous energy, victory and the thrill of the fight rushed through our veins. With no outlet but quiet reflection.” Again Adam shrugged. “Were we ordinary knights, we might have tupped it out of our system as other warriors did.”
Eliza’s cheeks pinked, and he leaned in a bit, unable to resist. “Lust, and the instinct to bed a woman, is a common reaction to fighting, you realize.”
One of her golden brows rose. “You were making a point about Godfrey laughing,” she said tartly.
“We were Templar, sworn to live chaste and in service to God. Godfrey found no more humor in prayer than you find in murder. It was simply his way of releasing. Yours as well, apparently. The problem was that to laugh during prayer was considered blasphemy. Which was the last thing Godfrey meant to convey.” Adam thought of Godfrey and lowered his voice. “He might have been sentenced to death. Might have been accused of possession.”
Eliza’s eyes went wide. “What did he do?”
“Nothing for it, really.” Adam shrugged. “So every time he started up, we’d all laugh too. ’Tis one thing to lose a single knight. But to do away with the lot of us would have been too high a cost.”
“You protected him.” Her voice had a note of wonder.
“Aye, Eliza May, that we did.” He reached out and slowly took hold of her waist, drawing her to his side where she belonged. Perhaps it was testament to her being upset, or perhaps she was growing accustomed to his touch, but she did not resist. Adam rested his palm against the warm crown of her head and held her tight. “I will protect you as well, dove. Always.”
“Well now,” drawled a voice Adam had nearly given up hope of hearing again, “I never thought I’d see the day the two of you would cozy up together.”
Adam grinned down at Eliza and then turned his head to greet the man who’d interrupted them. “Lucien.”
Chapter Seventeen
Adam’s happiness in seeing Lucien, his right-hand man, was infectious, and Eliza could not help but smile as well as she greeted him.
“Hello, Lucien.” Despite her disgruntlement at Adam during the time he’d kept her captive, she’d always liked Lucien. A Southern Creole, the man was utterly beautiful, so finely formed that his features were almost feminine.
As always, he was dressed as a gentleman from the last century, wearing a satin frock coat and tight knee britches paired with white silk hose. However, there were circles under his eyes and a thinness about his mouth.
“Miss May.” He made a leg, bowing with grace. “Enchanted as always.” He glanced at Adam, and his mouth thinned even more. “Mon capitaine. I see you’ve decorated my barge. I cannot say I approve of the adornments, but our tastes have always differed, no?”
Adam smirked. “Were it you doing the decorating, the adornments would be far more lavish, I’m sure.” Adam’s grip upon Eliza’s waist tightened. She’d been aware that Adam kept his hold upon her as if she were his. But she did not want to shrug him off, not yet. Not when he was so happy. His voice rumbled over her, the vibrations humming along her side. “But where have you been?”
Lucien’s expression shuttered. “Away. I did not realize I was needed until I began to weaken.” He leaned against the wall. “You are aware that the GIM are not well?”
“Aye,” Adam said softly. “And there’s not a damn thing I can think to do about it.” His body tensed at Eliza’s side. “Other than find a way to destroy Mab.”
“Hmm…” Lucien glanced at Eliza, and the look in his eyes was calculating. Eliza eased away from Adam, feeling his resistance in the matter, but he let her go.
