Beyond the Highland Mist
Page 49

“It doesn’t matter. Means nothing to me.” Adrienne shivered slightly within the cape Adam had draped about her shoulders.
“It should. You’re the most exquisite woman I’ve encountered, winsome Beauty. I would give you everything. Anything. Name it. Command me. I will make it yours.”
“Fidelity?” Adrienne shot back at the blacksmith. Somehow they had reached the forge, although Adrienne had no memory of having walked that far. Her feet felt oddly light and her head swam.
“Forever,” the smithy purred, “and beyond.”
“Truly?” Adrienne asked, then kicked herself. Why ask? Men lie. Words proved nothing. Eberhard Darrow Garrett had given her all the right words.
“Some men lie. But then some men are incapable of it. Do you lie, sweet Beauty? If I asked you for fidelity and pledged mine in return, would you give it? Could I trust your words?”
Of course, she thought. She had no problem with fidelity.
“I suspected as much,” Adam said. “You’re one of a kind, Beauty.”
Was she answering him? She hadn’t thought she was. Adrienne felt light-headed. “Where are the guards?” she murmured.
“You are in my realm. I am all the protection you will ever need.”
“Who are you?” Adrienne asked.
Adam laughed at her question. “Come into my world, Beauty. Let me show you marvels to exceed your wildest dreams.”
Adrienne turned a dreamy eye toward Dalkeith, but all she saw was a strange shimmer at the forest’s edge—no lights of the castle. The sound of surf filled her ears, but that couldn’t be. The ocean was at the west end of the bailey and she was at the north. Why couldn’t she see the castle? “Where is the castle, Adam? Why can’t I see Dalkeith anymore?” Her vision blurred and she was assailed by the uncanny sensation that somehow she was no longer even in Scotland. Wherever she was, it didn’t feel like a good place to be.
“The veil grows thin,” Adam purred. “Morar awaits you, lovely one.”
She was lying beside him in cool sand with no understanding of how she’d managed to get there. Her mind was impossibly muddled. A sense of danger, inimical and ancient, gripped the pit of her stomach. This man … something about this man wasn’t quite right.
“Who are you, really, Adam Black?” she insisted. Merely forming the words was a challenge, her tongue felt thick, her muscles rubbery.
Adam grinned. “You’re closer than you think, Beauty.”
“Who?” she insisted, fighting to retain control of her senses. The rich, dark scent of jasmine and sandalwood befuddled her mind.
“I am the sin siriche du, Beauty. I am the one for you.”
“Are you from the twentieth century too?” she asked dizzily. “What’s wrong with me? Why do I feel so strange?”
“Hush, Adrienne. Let me love you as you deserve. You are the only one for me …” Too late he realized his error.
The only one. The only one. Hawk had tried to make her believe the same thing. How was the smithy different? Judging from the feel of his hard arousal pressed against her thigh, not very. Just like Eberhard. Just like the Hawk. Not again! Adrienne fought to steady her voice, to clear her head. “Release me, Adam.”
“Never.” Adam’s powerful hands gripped her body. She could feel them unfasten her cape and slide over her breasts. Guiding her down to the silky sand, he rose above her, his face gilded amber by the fire. Sweat beaded at his brow and glistened just above his cruel and beautiful lips.
Adrienne puzzled at the illogic of sand beneath her body. She could see the red-gold glow of the fire. Where was she? On a beach or at the forge? She concluded foggily that it didn’t matter, if he would only let her go. “Release me!” Her cry took all the strength she possessed.
Release her if she asks, fool, a shadow of a voice commanded.
Suddenly the night was still. The sound of surf faded into the chirping of crickets.
Adam’s grip tightened painfully on Adrienne’s shoulders.
Release her, Adam. She chooses was the bargain struck. Honor the pact—
But King Finnbheara—he dishonors us!
Fool! If you have not honor, you shall not roam freely in the future!
A bitter gust of breeze carried a furious sigh from Adam, and then she was standing nose to nose with the Hawk. His face was dark with fury.
The silken cape upon Adrienne’s shoulders fluttered wildly, a flame of brilliant crimson.
“Where have you been?” Hawk demanded.
“Adam and I—” Adrienne began, then looked around. Adam was nowhere to be seen. Her mind was sharp and clear again; that dreamy fog was an unsavory and incomplete memory. She stood by the fire at the forge, but the flames had deteriorated to cold embers and the night was growing blacker by the minute. “I was just walking,” she amended hastily, and ducked her head to avoid his penetrating gaze.