He agreed instantly. "I didn't think you were. Mad, I mean. But you are my heart, whether you like it or not. By the bye, neither does Lydia. Think you're mad, that is. We both know you're intelligent and capable. Except when it comes to two things: your safety and me. You're completely unreasonable about both of those issues." He shrugged one of his muscled shoulders. "That's why I'm having this wee talk with you. To help you see things more clearly."
"Oooh! Those are the two things you're being so pigheaded about. I'm not in danger and I don't want you!"
He laughed. Damn the man, but he laughed. "You are in danger, and as to wanting me…" He moved closer. His weight settling on the down ticks beside her caused her to shift and roll alarmingly. Right into his arms. How convenient, she thought sardonically. Now she understood why they'd used all those down ticks in the olden days. And why they'd had so many children.
"You're right, I do want you—"
He froze. "You do?"
"—out of my room," she continued. "Out of my face and out of my life. Don't get in my space, don't even breathe my air, okay?"
"It's my air, by the bye, as laird, and all that. But I could be persuaded to share it with you, sweet wife."
He was smiling!
"And I am not your wife! Or at least, not the one you were supposed to get! I'm from the nineteen nineties—that's almost five hundred years in the future in case you can't add—and the Comyn killed his own daughter. How? I don't know, but I have my suspicions, and I haven't got the faintest idea how I ended up in his lap. But he had to marry someone to you—he said I was a godsend—so he used me when I popped in! And that's the long and the short of how I ended up getting stuck with you."
There. It was out. The truth. That should stop him from any further plans of seduction. No matter that if what Lydia had told her was true about King James, she'd just jeopardized the entire Douglas clan. Her words prevented his lips from reaching hers and that was the most imminent danger she could see. Not even the wrath of vengeful kings seemed quite as threatening. One more beautiful man, one more broken heart.
The Hawk sat motionless. He studied her a long moment in silence, as if digesting what she'd just said. Then a gentle smile chased the clouds from his eyes. "Grimm told me you wove outlandish tales. He said you had an epic imagination. Your father told Grimm how you begged to be allowed to be his bard, rather than his daughter. Lass, I have nothing against a good tale and will willingly listen, if you but take my counsel about your safety."
Adrienne blew out a frustrated breath that sent a strand of her silvery-blond hair brushing the Hawk's face. He kissed it as it slid gently across his mouth.
Flames uncoiled in her belly. She shut her eyes and gathered her composure from the fleeting corners of her soul. I
will not think about him kissing any part of me, she told herself firmly.
"I am not Red Comyn's daughter," she sighed, squeezing her eyes more tightly shut. When was she going to figure out that closing her eyes didn't make anything go away? She opened her eyes. Oh dear heaven, but the man was magnificent. She pondered the thought with some pride that she could dislike him so intensely, yet still be so objective about his good looks. A sure sign of her maturity.
"Nay, it doesn't matter. You are my wife now. That's all that matters."
"Hawk—"
"Hush, lass."
Adrienne stilled, absorbed in the warmth of his hands on hers. When had he taken her hands in his? And why hadn't she pulled away instinctively? And why was the slow, sensual movement of his skin against hers so intoxicating?
"Adrienne… this Callabron. For it to work correctly it must enter the body through a primary vessel of blood." His fingers lightly skimmed the faint red mark that still puckered the translucent skin of her throat. "This was no near miss. This was perfect aim."
"Who would want to kill me?" She swallowed tightly. How could anyone want to? No one here knew her. But… what if someone wanted to kill Mad Janet, and didn't know she wasn't her?
"For that I have no answer, my heart. Yet. But until I do you will be guarded day and night. Every moment, every breath. I will not risk your life foolishly again."
"But I am not Janet Comyn," she tried again, stubbornly.
His ebony gaze searched her clear gray eyes intently. "Lass, I really don't care who you are, or have been, or need to think you'll be. I want you. In my life. In my arms. In my bed. If it makes you feel better to believe this… this thing about being from the future, then believe it if you must. But from this day on, you are first and foremost my wife, and I will keep you safe from anything that would hurt you. You need never fear again."