Beyond the Highland Myst(21)

"Yes." Adrienne nodded vehemently.

"The buttery, Hawk," Lydia encouraged her son.

"You're going to let me go?" he asked caustically.

"Since when do you listen to me?" Lydia asked with a twinkle in her eye. "Take your new wife to find her coffee. And Adrienne, if you need aught else, even a commiserating ear, do find me. I spend much of the day in my gardens. Anyone can point you the way."

"Thank you." Adrienne meant it from the bottom of her heart. How nice it was to have someone extend a friendly welcome! Someone not male and beautiful beyond endurance.

"Come." The Hawk extended a hand to her. Refusing to touch him, she said sweetly, "After you."

"Nay, lass, after you." He motioned. He'd follow the sweet curve of her hips past the horned minions of hell.

"I must insist," Adrienne demurred.

"As must I," he countered.

"Go," she snapped.

He folded his powerful arms across his chest and resolutely met her gaze.

"Oh, for God's sake, do we have to fight about this, too?"

"Not if you obey me, lass."

Behind them Lydia half laughed, half groaned. "Why don't the two of you just walk side by side," she said encouragingly.

"Fine," Adrienne snapped.

"Fine," the Hawk snarled.

* * * * *

Lydia laughed until tears twinkled in her merry green eyes. Finally—a lass worthy of her son.




* * *





CHAPTER 8




side by side. she didn't have to look at him. thank god for small favors.

"And here we have the buttery," the Hawk said as he unlocked the door and pushed it open. Adrienne's spirits rose. Her nose twitched delicately. She could smell coffee beans, spices, teas, all manner of wonderful things. She practically vaulted into the room, the Hawk at her heels. As she was about to plunge a hand deep into the woven brown sack from which issued the most delicious aroma of sinfully dark coffee, the Hawk somehow managed to insinuate himself between Adrienne and her prize.

"It would seem you quite like your coffee," he observed, with too keen an interest for her liking.

"Yes." She shifted her weight from foot to foot, impatiently, but the man had a lot of body to block her way with. "Move, Hawk," she complained, and he laughed softly as he gripped her waist with his big hands, nearly circling it.

Adrienne froze as a scent even more compelling than her beloved coffee tantalized her nostrils. Scent of leather and man. Of power and sexual prowess. Of confidence and virility. Scent of everything she'd imagined in her dreams.

"Ah, my heart, there is a price—" he murmured.

"You have no heart," she informed his chest.

"True," he agreed. "You've thieved it. And last night I stood before you in agony whilst you ripped it asunder—"

"Oh give over—"

"You have odd sayings, my heart—"

"Your heart is a puny black walnut. Wizened. Shriveled." She refused to look up at him.

He laughed. "Lass, you will keep me amused long into my twilight years."

"Coffee," she muttered.

"The toll troll must be reckoned with."

"And just what does the toll troll wish?"

"This morn,'tis simple. Other days it may not be. Today your coffee will cost you only a wee kiss."

"You think to dole out the coffee to me in return for kisses?" she exclaimed, disbelieving. And in spite of herself she tilted her head back and met his gaze. Well, almost. Her eyes snagged and held about three inches below his eyes on his perfectly sculpted, beautifully colored lips. A man's lips should not be so well formed and desirable. She forgot about coffee as she thought about tasting him, and her traitorous knees started to get all wobbly again.

"Go ahead," he encouraged.

The bastard. He knew she wanted to kiss him.

"I know you don't want to, lass, but you must if you want your coffee."

"And if I don't?"

"You don't get your coffee." He shrugged. "Really,'tis a wee price to pay."

"I don't think this is quite what your mother had in mind."

He laughed, a dark, sensual purr, and she felt her nipples tighten. God in heaven, he was dangerous. "My mother is half responsible for me, so don't offer her up for sainthood yet, my heart."

"Quit 'my hearting' me. I have a name."

"Aye, and'tis Adrienne Douglas. My wife. Be glad I seek only a boon for a boon and don't simply take what's mine by right."

She grabbed his hand quick as lightning and deposited the requisite kiss on it, then flung it back down. "My coffee," she demanded.

The Hawk's dark eyes simmered with impatient sensuality. "Obviously, lass, there is much I need to teach you about kissing."