"Spare me," she said tiredly.
"Fair the dawn of yon lass's blush, rich and ripe and deeply lush." Her husband was not about to be outdone.
Adrienne stamped a foot and glared at them both. Where was her Shakespeare when she needed it? "For I have sworn thee fair and thought thee bright/, who art as black as hell, as dark as night," she muttered.
The smithy threw his head back and roared with laughter. Her husband's lips curved in an appreciative smile at her wit.
Hawk stood then and extended his hand. "Cry peace with me, lass."
Cry. The man could make an angel weep. But she was hungry. Thirsty. Tired. She took his hand, vowing fiercely to take nothing more. Ever.
As her husband guided her from the clearing the smithy's voice followed on a jasmine-scented breeze, and she was surprised that her husband didn't react. Either he was not a possessive man, or he simply hadn't heard. For clearly she heard the smithy say, "Woman who renders all men as weak kittens to cream, I can take you places you've known only in your dreams."
"Nightmares," she grumbled, and heard him laugh softly behind her.
Her husband glanced at her curiously. "What?"
She sighed heavily. "Night's mare rides hard upon my heels. I must sleep soon."
He nodded. "And then we talk."
Sure. If I'm still in this godforsaken place when I wake up.
* * * * *
Sidheach James Lyon Douglas worried his unshaven jaw with a callused hand. Anger? Perhaps. Disbelief, surely. Possessiveness. Where the hell did that come from?
Fury. Aye, that was it. Cold, dark fury was eating him from the inside out and the spirited Scotch was only aiding the ache.
He had stood and watched his new wife with starvation in his eyes. He had seen her suffer raw and primal hunger for a man—and it was not him. Unbelievable.
"Keep drinking like that and we'll never make Uster on the morrow," Grimm warned.
"I'm not going to Uster on the morrow. My wife could be with babe by the time I got back."
Grimm grinned. "She's in a full fury with you, you know."
"She's in a fury with me?"
"You were too drunk to wed her, much less bed her, and now you're in a tizzy because she looked on Adam agreeably."
"Agreeably? Give the lass a trencher and she would have slid it under him, licking her lips as she dined!"
"So?"
"She's my wife."
"Och, this one's getting too deep for me. You said you didn't care what became of her once the deed was done. You swore to honor the pact and you have. So why this foolish ire, Hawk?"
"My wife will not make a cuckold of me."
"I believe a husband can only be a cuckold if he cares. You don't care."
"Nobody asked me if I cared."
Grimm blinked, fascinated by the Hawk's behavior. "All the lasses look on Adam like that."
"She didn't even notice me. 'Tis Adam she wants. Who the bloody hell hired that blacksmith anyway?"
Grimm mused into his brew. "Wasn't Thomas the smithy?"
"Come to think of it, aye."
"Where'd Thomas go?"
"I don't know, Grimm. That's why I asked you."
"Well, somebody hired Adam."
"You didn't?"
"Nay. I thought you did, Hawk."
"Nay. Maybe he's Thomas's brother and Thomas was taken ill."
Grimm laughed. "Ugly Thomas his brother? Not a chance on that."
"Get rid of him."
"Adam?"
"Aye."
Silence.
Then, "By the saints, Hawk, you can't be serious! 'Tisna like you to take away a man's livelihood because of the way a lass looks at him…"
"This lass happens to be my wife."
"Aye—the very one you didn't want."
"I've changed my mind."
"Besides, he's been keeping Esmerelda quite content, Hawk."
Sidheach sighed deeply. "There is that." He paused the length of several jealous heartbeats. "Grimm?"
"Urn?"
"Tell him to keep his clothes on while he works. And that's an order."
* * * * *
But Hawk couldn't leave it alone. His mind became aware of where his feet had taken him just as he entered the amber rim of firelight beneath the rowan trees at Adam's forge.
"Welcome Lord Hawk of Dalkeith-Upon-the-Sea."
Hawk spun about to come nose to nose with the glistening blacksmith, who had somehow managed to get behind him. Not many men could take the Hawk by surprise, and for an instant Hawk was as fascinated as he was irritated with the smithy.
"I didn't hire you. Who are you?"
"Adam," the smithy replied coolly.
"Adam what?"
The smithy pondered, then flashed a puckish smile. "Adam Black."
"Who hired you?"
"I heard you were in need of a man to tend a forge."