The Final Storm

22. Love Bird on the Hunt

Stalking towards the soon-to-be deceased man in front of her, Adaira cracked her knuckles.

"Ehem...now, now, listen here," the future corpse formerly known as Captain Carter spoke up and raised his hands. Probably to shield himself. A futile effort. "This is a complete misunderstanding. It's not at all what you're thinking."

"Oh?" With a smile as sweet as poison on her face, Adaira leaned towards him. "And what precisely am I thinking?"

"Err, well..." Glancing between himself and the lady at the door of the nearby house, Captain Carter opened his mouth to respond—then saw the expression on Adaira's face and closed it again.

"Well? Why aren't you talking, Mister?"

"Um, Adaira—"

"That's Miss Ambrose to you, Captain!"

"Miss Ambrose, let me explain!"

"Oh? By all means, go ahead. I'm all ears." Sliding a hand into her pocket, Adaira smiled. "And guns, of course."

"Err, well..." Captain Carter cleared his throat. "The lady here has graciously agreed to let me stay in her home because of a service I did her—"

"Oh?" Adaira pulled out her gun. "And how exactly did you 'service' her?"

"I...wait, that's not what I said!"

"But you didn't deny it, either, did you?"

Adaira cocked her gun. Not that she was going to shoot him. Probably. But she sure as hell was going to make him think she was. That philandering son of a bachelor was going to pay for what he had done! He actually dared betray—

"Ah, darling, there you are!"

Just when she was about to decide whether to beat up the unfaithful scoundrel in front of her or simply kick him in the nuts, a voice from the nearby house drew her attention. Glancing up, she saw a fat little man with a bandage around his head and a friendly smile on his face appearing in the doorway. The beautiful woman turned towards him and...drew him into a loving embrace?

Huh?

Wasn't this woman the secret paramour of that unfaithful scoundrel of a captain? Why was she...why would she...?

Nonplussed, Adaira turned towards Captain Carter.

"What is happening?"

"That is what I've been trying to tell you!" he said, one corner of his mouth crooked. "That's the lady's husband. He is a wealthy merchant in this city and was unfortunate enough to encounter a rebel who thought Britons weren't the only acceptable plunder targets. I assisted him in his predicament and brought him home, and the couple insisted on showing their gratitude."

"That's right!" The lady at the door exclaimed, hugging the man who only reached to her collarbone like her own personal plushy. "The dear captain saved my sweet honey bear from the claws of those horrid people! How could I not repay him for his generosity by offering him shelter?"

"I, um...you..." Adaira opened her mouth to retort—only to discover that there were no reasonable grounds to object.

Really? The fact that she is a beautiful woman within a hundred feet of my man seems reasonable, right?

Well, yes. But probably not to anyone except Adaira.

"Why don't the two of you come inside," the seductive siren offered. "We shouldn't tarry out here, where the rebels could come by at any moment."

Dammit! Adaira inwardly cursed. Why was everything this woman said so bloody logical and so difficult to argue with? And why did she have to be so goddamn beautiful?