Beyond the Highland Mist

Page 77

She felt the rasp of a rope against her wrists as he yanked her arms down and spun her around, securing her hands at the base of her back.
“You son of a bitch!” she hissed.
“Son of a bitch,” he repeated thoughtfully. “Now you don’t like my mother?”
“I don’t like you when you’re like this! Hawk! Why are you doing this? What have I done?”
“Silence, lass,” he commanded softly, and she learned then that when his voice was soft and supple as oiled leather was when she was in the most extreme danger. It was the first of many lessons he would teach her. When the silken hood slid down over her face she screamed her fury and lashed out against him with her feet. Struggling, kicking, raging in his arms, she cursed raggedly.
“Wife,” he said right against her ear through the silk hood, “you belong to me. Soon you will not remember that there was ever a time when you didn’t.”
Adam stood amidst the shadow of the rowans and watched as the Hawk stalked through the night, the hooded woman fighting his grasp. So he thought he could escape Adam Black, did he? Hawk thought he could take her away? Clever. Adam hadn’t negotiated that point. Hawk had obviously decided to play cutting-edge close to the letter of their law.
The man was becoming downright infuriating.
No, this was not what Adam had expected at all when he’d staged his scene in the gardens.
So, the man was more brute than he had thought. He had vastly underestimated his opponent. He’d thought the Hawk was too decent and too nice to know when a man had to be as hard and unforgiving as steel with a woman. He’d counted on the noble Hawk being so wounded by seeing her with the smithy that he’d curse her and swear her off, maybe divorce her—any of which, according to his plan, would send her scurrying to his blazing forge at the rowans. He’d thought, quite mistakenly it seemed, that the Hawk had at least one or two weaknesses of character.
“Silence, wife!” The Hawk’s baritone resonated in the darkness. Adam shuddered. No mortal should have such a voice.
Well, this just wouldn’t do. He’d have to seriously intervene, because if such a man carried off a woman and kept her for a time, the woman would surely belong to him when he was through.
And Adam never lost at anything. Certainly not this.
He stepped forward from the shadows, prepared to confront the Hawk, when he heard a harsh whisper behind him.
“Fool!”
“What now?” Adam snarled, turning to face King Finnbheara.
“The Queen demands your presence.”
“Now?”
“Right now. She’s on to us. I think it’s that snoopy little Aine again. You’ll have to leave this game at least long enough to allay the Queen’s suspicions. Come.”
“I can’t come now.”
“You have no choice. She will come for you herself if you don’t. And then we’ll have no chance left at all.”
Adam stood still a long moment, allowing his rage to burn through him and leave cinders of resolve in its wake. He had to be very careful where his Queen was concerned. It would do him no good to bar her whim or will in any manner.
He allowed himself one long look over his shoulder at the retreating figure on horseback. “Very well, my liege. Through this rotten hell, bar my will, pledged to none but the fairest queen, lead on.”
CHAPTER 25
SHE STOPPED SCREAMING ONLY WHEN HER VOICE GAVE OUT. Stupid, she told herself. What did that accomplish? Not a thing. You’re trussed up like a chicken about to be plucked and now you can’t even peep a protest.
“Just take the hood off, Hawk,” she begged in a gravelly whisper. “Please?”
“Rule number nine. My name from this moment forward is Sidheach. Sidheach, not Hawk. When you use it, you will be rewarded. When you don’t, I will permit no quarter.”
“Why do you want me to use that name?”
“So I know you understand who I really am. Not the legendary Hawk. The man. Sidheach James Lyon Douglas. Your husband.”
“Who first called you Hawk?” she asked hoarsely.
He stifled a swift oath and she felt his fingers at her throat. “Who first called me Hawk doesn’t make the difference. Everyone did. But ’twas all the king ever called me,” he gritted. He didn’t add that in all his life he had never given a lass leave to call him Sidheach. Not one.
He untied the hood and lifted it from her face, then poured cool water into her mouth, relieving some of the burning that made her voice so rough. “Try not to scream anymore tonight, lass. Your throat will bleed.”