He could just feel it in his bones that something was about to go very wrong.
* * *
SAMHAIN
(Harvest)
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For nothing this wide universe I call,
Save thou, my rose; in it thou art my all.
shakespeare, sonnets cix
* * *
CHAPTER 28
adam hissed as he left the fairy isle of morar. time, usually of no significance to him, had flashed past him, day by precious day. When he played a mortal game, time became a nagging concern. For too long he'd neglected his doings at Dalkeith, but it had taken some time to convince his Queen that he was up to no mischief.
Now the far-seeing Adam turned his mind toward Dalkeith to study the changes in his game. He stiffened and hissed again. How dare they?
When his Queen had said the damning words sealing the Hawk's fate, Adam had searched far and wide for the perfect tool of revenge. He had wandered through the centuries, listening, watching, and finally choosing the perfect woman with careful precision. Adam was not one to muck in the lives of mortals often, but when he did, legends arose. And Adam liked that.
Some called him Puck. A Bard would name him Ariel.
Still others knew him as Robin Goodfellow. The Scots called him the sin siriche du—the black elf. Occasionally, Adam donned the visage of a charging and headless horseman, or a grim-faced specter carrying a scythe, just to live long in the memories of mortals. But whatever the glamour chose, he always won what he set out to win. And he'd been so certain of success this time! The woman had not only grown up in magical New Orleans, she'd sworn off men so vehemently that he'd heard her through the centuries. Adam had watched her for weeks before he'd made his careful choice; he'd studied her, learned everything there was to know about the fascinating Adrienne de Simone. Things even her beloved husband didn't know about her. He had been convinced that she was the one woman guaranteed to hate the legendary Hawk.
Now, as Adam moved toward Dalkeith-Upon-the-Sea, his far-reaching vision revealed a blissful Adrienne, wedding plans lazing dreamily in her mind.
But the Hawk, ah… the Hawk wasn't so comfortable right now. He sensed something was wrong. He would be prepared.
Adam had brought Adrienne here to reject the Hawk, and of course, to claim the beauty for himself. Rarely was such a stirring mortal creature born as that woman. Even the King had commented on her perfection. What sweet revenge, to wed the Hawk to a woman who would never love him, while Adam made her his own. To cuckold the man who'd humiliated the Fairy King. But it seemed that he'd been as wrong about Adrienne as he'd been about the Hawk. Underestimated them both, he had.
She loved the Hawk as intensely as the Hawk loved her.
Adam drew up short, and grinned craftily as inspiration struck. What a tiny revenge that would have been to merely cuckold the Hawk.
A new and truly devastating possibility now occurred to him.
* * * * *
Lydia and Tavis were sitting on the cobbled terrace of Dalkeith when the Hawk and Adrienne arrived late that night.
Deep in the shadows, talking softly and sipping sweet port, they watched the younger couple ride in, dismount, and link hands as they moved toward the terrace. Lydia's eyes shimmered with happiness as she watched.
Adrienne said something that made the Hawk laugh. When he pulled her to a lazy halt and kissed her, she tugged the thong free from his hair and flung it into the night. What started as a tender kiss deepened hungrily. Long moments rippled by as the kiss unfurled. Lingering and savage and hot, the laird of Dalkeith-Upon-the-Sea and his lady kissed. Beneath an almost full moon, on the lawn directly in front of the terrace, they kissed.
And kissed.
Lydia's smile faded, and she shuffled in her chair uncomfortably. She forced herself to draw a deep, difficult breath and willed her heart to stop that ridiculous thundering. She'd thought her body might have finally forgotten such passion. Little chance of that.
"That's quite a kiss, I'll say." Tavis's rich brogue rolled over her.
"Qu-quite… a kiss." Lydia swallowed. How long had it been since a man had kissed her that way?
Tavis moved imperceptibly closer and Lydia glanced sharply at him.
Then her gaze turned speculative.
Tavis MacTarvitt was one fine figure of a man, she noted. How did it come to pass that she had failed to see that before now? And why that secretive smile on his face? she wondered. "What are you smiling about?" she snapped.
"'Tis a fine night on Dalkeith, I'll say," he offered benignly. "They've come home. And it looks to me like we'll be having wee bairns around here soon, and I'll say that again."
"Hmmph." Lydia snorted. "Have you figured out how to make coffee yet, old man? I'd love to have a good cup for her in the morning."