Beyond the Highland Mist
Page 113

“Hope you’re not looking for a star, Grimm,” she called up to him.
“Never again,” he vowed fervently.
Adrienne gasped, as at precisely that moment a tiny white speck sparked and sputtered, then traced a downward spiral across the sky. “Oh my God! Grimm, look! A shooting star!” She squeezed her eyes shut and wished fiercely.
“What did you just wish?” he growled down at her, rigid with tension.
When she opened her eyes again, she said saucily, “I can’t tell. It’s against the rules.”
“What did you just wish?” he roared.
“My, aren’t we superstitious?” she teased with a smile.
He glowered down at her as she made her way back into the castle. Glancing over her shoulder, she flashed him an impish grin. “Brace yourself, Grimm. I will tell you this much—I spent my wish on you.”
“Don’t you know how dangerous it is to be throwing idle wishes about, lass!” he thundered.
“Oh, this one wasn’t idle at all,” she called cheerfully before the door swung closed. On the rooftop of Dalkeith, Grimm sank to his knees and stared up into the sky, desperately seeking another wishing star … just in case.
Adrienne’s gown rustled as she slipped down the corridor. Lydia had told her where she might find the Hawk and, over tangy mint tea, had filled her in on a few things her husband hadn’t bothered to mention to her. Such as the fact that he’d destroyed her beloved nursery, the one she’d lain awake fantasizing about when she’d been stranded in the twentieth century. So that was where he’d rushed off to looking so worried about “the scant few months left.” She entered the nursery so silently, Hawk did not hear her approach.
She traced her fingers lightly and lovingly over an exquisitely carved doll and paused.
He was kneeling beside a cradle, rubbing oil into the wood with a soft cloth. Clad only in the blues and silvers of his kilt, his dark hair fell forward in a silky wave. The nursery was aglow with dozens of oil globes, casting his powerful torso a gleaming bronze. His eyes were narrowed in concentration and the muscles in his arms flexed and bunched as he rubbed.
Adrienne leaned against the jamb and watched him in silence, tallying the room’s meager furnishings. Many of the toys were back, but all the cradles and beds were all gone. What phenomenal passion must have raged through him!
“I suppose I should feel flattered,” she said softly.
His head jerked up guiltily.
Adrienne stepped into the room, conscious that her breasts, made fuller by pregnancy, swayed beneath her gown, and that the Hawk seemed fascinated by the ripeness of her lusher curves. They’d made love that afternoon, desperately, quickly, and fiercely, scarcely making it from the gardens to the privacy of their bedroom. Lydia had patiently waited all of one hour before she’d knocked on the door and demanded to see her daughter-in-law.
When Adrienne had been trapped back in the twentieth century, fearing she would never be intimate with her husband again, memories of their incredible passion had cascaded through her mind with bittersweet fury, heightening her awareness of all the sensual things she’d longed to do with the Hawk, but had been denied. Those long, torturous months of desire, coupled with the demanding hormones of pregnancy, enhanced her daring now. She hungered for the slow, delicious loving she’d been afraid she might never experience again. “Hawk?”
He gazed up at her, still crouched on the floor, ready to pounce if she so much as moved an inch.
Adrienne moved—deliberately and erotically. She stooped to pick up a toy soldier, bending so that her breasts threatened to spill from her bodice. She caught her lower lip between her teeth and sent the Hawk a smoldering look from beneath lowered lashes. He was on his feet in an instant.
“Stop!” Adrienne raised a hand to hold him back.
Hawk froze mid-stride.
“What do you wish of me, Adrienne?” he whispered huskily.
“I need you,” she said breathlessly. He lunged forward and she raised her hand again. “No, let me look at you,” she said as she circled slowly around him. She smiled when his eyes widened. “When I was back in my time, one of the things that I really wanted to clear up was a question about Scotsmen and their kilts….”
“And that question was?”
“I saw you mounting your horse one day—”
“I know you did,” he said smugly. “You were in the window by the nursery.”
“Oh! You did do it on purpose!”
Hawk laughed, mischief crinkling his eyes, and it fueled her bold resolve. If he could tease her—well, two could play that game. She’d see how well he handled such toying with his desires.