To risk staying where whatever forces commanded his wife? Patently impossible. "We can't stay," he told the silent, waiting room—the one room he needed to bid farewell most strongly. His nursery. "Running is the only intelligent thing to do in this case. 'Tis the only sure way to keep her safe."
He rubbed his eyes and leaned an arm against the doorjamb, struggling to tame the emotions coursing through him. He was captivated, bound beyond belief to the lass sleeping innocently in his bed. This night shared with her had been all he'd ever dreamed he might one day know. The incredible intimacy of making love to a woman whose very thoughts he could read. It wasn't just making love—tonight when their bodies had melded together in passion, he felt such complete kindred that it knocked him off balance. If nothing else, it shifted and tumbled his priorities into perfect position. She comes first.
Hawk's jaw tensed, and he cursed softly. His eyes wandered lovingly over the cradles, the carved toys, the soft woolens, and the high windows opening to a velvet dawn. He could give her a babe—hell, she might carry his already. And someone or something could rip her and the babe right out of his arms and his life. It would destroy him.
Dalkeith would prosper without him; Adrian would make a fine laird. Lydia would summon him home from France. Ilysse would keep his mother company and Adrian would wed and bring babies to this nursery.
He would suffer no regrets. He could have babies with Adrienne in a crofter's hut and be just as happy.
The Hawk stood a few moments more, until the flicker of a smile curved his lip.
He closed the door on his old dream with a gentle smile and a kind of reverence only a man in love fully understands. A room had never been his dream at all.
She was his dream.
* * * * *
"Hawk!" Lydia's lower lip trembled an unspoken protest. She averted her gaze to study an intricate twining of roses.
"It must be done, Mother. 'Tis the only way I can be certain she's safe."
Lydia busied her hands with the careful pinching away of dried leaves, pruning her roses as she'd pruned them for thirty years. "But to leave! Tonight!"
"We can't risk staying, Mother. There's no other choice I can make."
"But Adrian isn't even here," she protested. "You can't relinquish the title if no one's here to claim it!"
"Mother." Hawk didn't bother to point out to her how absurd that protest was. From the sheepish look on her face it was obvious she knew she was grasping at any excuse she could find.
"You're talking about taking my grandbabies away!" Lydia squinted hard against tears.
Hawk regarded her with a mixture of deep love and amused patience. "They're grandbabies you don't even have yet. And ones we won't get a chance to make if I lose her to whatever it is that controls her."
"You could take her far from these shores and still lose her, Hawk. Until we discover what controls her, she won't ever really be safe," Lydia argued stubbornly. "She and I had planned to investigate the details of each time she traveled, to discover similarities. Have you done that?"
Hawk shook his head, his gaze shuttered. "Not yet. Truth be told, I've been loath to bring it up. She doesn't. I keep my silence. Once we've wed and left, there will be time to speak of it."
"Hawk, perhaps the Rom—"
Hawk shook his head impatiently. He'd already tried that tactic this morning. It had been his last ditch chance. He'd found Rushka up on the southwest ridge with his people, digging the trenches and gathering the seven woods for the fires. But Rushka had flatly refused to discuss his wife in any capacity. Nor had the Hawk been able to lure him into a conversation about the smithy. Damned irritating that he couldn't even force answers from those who depended upon him for his hospitality. But the Rom—well, the Rom truly depended upon no man's hospitality. When things became difficult, they moved on to a better place. Absolute freedom, that.
Nor had the Hawk, for that matter, been able to find the damned smithy.
"Mother, where's Adam?"
"The smithy?" Lydia asked blankly.
"Aye. The forge was cold. His wagon's gone."
"Fair to tell, I haven't seen him since… let's see… probably since the two of you left for Uster. Why, Hawk? Do you think he has something to do with Adrienne?"
Hawk nodded slowly.
Lydia attacked from another angle. "Well, see! If you take Adrienne away and Adam does have something to do with it, he can just follow you. Better to stay here and fight."
She gasped when the Hawk turned his dark gaze toward her. "Mother, I will not risk losing her. I'm sorry that doesn't please you, but without her… ah, without her…" He lapsed into a brooding stillness.