"As beautiful as the Hawk?"
"Men are different. You can't compare apples to oranges."
"I'm not asking you to. I'm asking you to compare a man to a man. The Hawk and myself," he growled.
"Adam, I am not getting into this with you. You're trying to force me to say something—"
"I am only requesting a fair answer."
"Why is this so important to you? Why do you even care?"
His mood changed, quicksilver. "Give me a chance, Beauty. You said aesthetically I please. You can't truly compare men until you've tasted the pleasure they can give you. Lie with me Beauty. Let me—"
"Stop it!"
"When you watched me forge the metal it made you burn." Adam's intense black eyes bored into hers, penetrating and deep. He claimed her hand and turned it palm up to his lips.
"Yes, but that was before I saw—" She broke off quickly.
"The Hawk," Adam spit out bitterly. "Hawk the magnificent. Hawk the living legend. Hawk the seductive bastard. Hawk—the king's whore. Remember?"
She gazed sadly at him. "Stop it, Adam," she finally said.
"Have you bedded him?"
"That's none of your business! And let go of my hand!" She tried to tug her hand out of his grasp, but his grip tightened and as his fingers caressed her wrist she felt confusion assail her senses.
"Answer me, Beauty. Have you lain with the Hawk?"
She swallowed tightly. I won't answer him, she vowed stubbornly even as her lips murmured, "No."
"Then the game still plays, Beauty and I have yet to win. Forget the Hawk. Think of Adam," he crooned as he claimed her lips in a brutal kiss.
Adrienne seemed to sink deeper and deeper into a murky sea that made her want to curl up and pull into herself.
"Adam. Say it, Beauty. Cry for me."
Where was the Hawk when she needed him? "H-h-hawk," she whispered against Adam's punishing mouth.
Enraged, Adam forced her head back until she met his furious gaze. As Adrienne watched, Adam's dark features seemed to shimmer strangely, changing… but that wasn't possible, she assured herself. Adam's dark eyes suddenly seemed to have the Hawk's flecks of gold, Adam's lower lip suddenly curved in Hawk's sensual invitation.
"Is this what I must do to have you, Beauty?" Adam asked bitterly.
Adrienne stared in horrified fascination. Adam's face was melting and redefining, and he looked more like her husband with every passing instant.
"Must I resort to such artifice? Is it the only way you'll have me?"
Adrienne extended a shaking hand to touch his oddly morphing face. "A-adam, s-stop it!"
"Does this make you burn, Beauty? If I wear his face, his hands? For I will, if it does!"
You're dreaming, she told herself. You've fallen asleep, and you're having a really, really bad nightmare, but it will pass.
Adam's hands were on her breasts and fingers of icy fire shivered a column of exquisite sensation through her spine… but it was not pleasure.
* * * * *
A dozen paces away the Hawk froze, mid-step, after barreling up the long bridge to the gardens. Line by line, muscle by muscle, his face became a mask of fury and pain.
How long had he been gone? A dozen hours? Half a day?
The wound he'd taken while saving her life burned angrily in his hand as his desire for her throbbed angrily beneath his kilt.
He forced himself to watch a long moment, to seal permanently upon his mind just what kind of fool he was to want this lass. To love her even as she betrayed him.
The smithy's hard, bronzed body stretched the length of his wife's sultry curves as they lounged on the fountain's edge. His hands were twined in her silvery-blond mane and his mouth was locked on his wife's yielding lips.
Hawk watched as she whimpered, hands frantic against the smithy in her need… as she pulled at his hair, frantically clawed at his shoulders.
Grass and flowers ripped from the fragrant earth beneath his boot as Hawk turned away.
* * * * *
Adrienne struggled for her sanity. "Go… back t-to whatever hell… from whence y-you c-c-came…" The words took every ounce of energy she still possessed and left her gasping limply for air.
The groping hands abruptly released her.
She fell off the ledge and landed in the fountain with a splash.
The cool water swept away the thick confusion instantly. She cringed in terror, waiting for the smithy's hand to reach in for her, but nothing happened.
"A-Adam?"
A breath of puckish wind teased her chilled nipples through the thin material of her gown. "Oh!" she covered them hastily with her palms.
"A-Adam?" She called, a little stronger. No answer.
"Who are you, really?" she yelled furiously into the empty morning.