Beyond the Highland Myst

by Highlander 01-08

  She let her forehead fall against the cool stone wall a long moment and squeezed back the tears. "I love him more than life itself," she whispered aloud.

  And that had been the deciding point.

  * * * * *

  "Nay." The Hawk raised his hands in mock protestation. "You must leave me with strength to wed and bed my wife, this eve," he teased the laughing women who tried to lure him into yet another dance.

  Despite the disappointed looks and saucy remarks about his virility, the Hawk made his way higher up the ridge. He'd seen Lydia wander that way with Tavis while he'd been dancing. He paused a moment and looked back at the castle, his eyes searching the windows intently. There it was. Lydia's room, his wife's silhouette visible against the brightly lit window. He watched her turn her back. She was on her way.

  A chill slithered up the nape of his neck as he studied her back. He watched a long moment, and when she didn't move, he wondered what she was doing.

  I should have insisted she keep the guard with her.

  Will they button my gown for me? she'd teased, and a swirl of jealousy at the thought of any of his guards touching his wife's silken skin had sealed it.

  He could watch every step of her progress from the ridge, and the castle wasn't entirely deserted. The ridge was a short walk, a few minutes or less. She should be fine. Yet he worried…

  "Have you seen Grimm?" Lydia touched his arm lightly to get his attention.

  Hawk tore his gaze from the window. "Nay. Have you?"

  "Nay. And that worries me. He's your best friend, Hawk. I thought he'd be here. What might have kept him?"

  Hawk shrugged and glanced quickly at the castle. Ah, finally. The candles were out and his wife was on her way. Lydia's room was full dark. Suddenly Grimm seemed inconsequential. Even his irritation at Grimm's lies slid off his shoulders with the thought of his beloved Adrienne.

  Tonight I will bind her to me for all eternity, he pledged silently.

  "Hawk?" Lydia waved her hand in front of his face and he dragged his gaze from the castle with an effort.

  "Hmmm?"

  "Oh my," Lydia sighed. "How you do remind me of your father when you look like that."

  "Like what?" Hawk drawled, watching the front steps for the first glimpse of his wife.

  "Like some savage Viking set to conquer and take captive."

  "I'm the captive in this, Mother," Hawk snorted. "The lass has fair spelled me, I think."

  Lydia's laughter tinkled merrily. "Good. 'Tis as it should be, then." She gave him a brisk kiss. "She'll be here any moment." Lydia straightened his linen that didn't need straightening, smoothed his perfect hair that didn't need smoothing, and in general clucked over him like a nervous hen.

  "Mother," he growled.

  "I just want you to look your best—" Lydia broke off. She spared a nervous laugh for herself. "Just look at me, a jittery mother, all in a tizzy at her son's wedding."

  "She's already seen me at my worst and loves me in spite of it. And what are you doing fussing over me? I thought we weren't speaking. What plans are you devising now?" he demanded. He knew her too well to believe she'd just capitulated quietly to his plans to leave this evening.

  "Hawk," Lydia protested, "you wound me!"

  Hawk snorted. "I'll ask you again, what nefarious plot have you devised to try to keep us here? Did you drug the wine? Hire ruthless mercenaries to hold us captive in my own castle? Nay, I have it—-you dispatched a messenger to the MacLeod telling them now might be a good time to lay siege to Dalkeith, right?" He wouldn't be surprised if she'd done any of those things. Lydia was formidable when she set her mind on something. Nothing was beyond her if it might mean keeping Adrienne by her side. Like mother like son, he acknowledged ruefully.

  Lydia glanced studiously away. "I simply refuse to think of you leaving until the time comes that you try to. Until then, I intend to enjoy every last moment of my son's wedding. Besides,'tis apparent Adrienne has no idea what you're planning. I'm not so certain she won't side with me," she snipped pertly.

  "Here she comes." Tavis interrupted their squabbling and waved their attention to the stone stairs that cascaded into the upper bailey.

  "Oh! Isn't she lovely?" Lydia breathed.

  A collective sigh ruffled the night and blended with the fragrant breeze dappling the ridge.

  "Could be a princess!"

  "Nay, a queen!"

  "Prettier than a fairy queen!" A wee lass with blond ringlets clapped her hands delightedly.

  "The Lady of Dalkeith-Upon-the-Sea." A crofter doffed his cap and clasped it over his heart in a gesture of fealty.

  Lydia's smile faded as she watched Adrienne head for the stables.

  No one spoke until she reappeared a few moments later, leading a horse to a nearby wall. "But what? What is that… a horse? Ah, I suppose she's riding a horse up," Lydia murmured, perplexed.

  "A horse? Why wouldn't she just walk? 'Tis fair short space to cross, I'll say," Tavis wondered.

  Beneath the brilliant moon they could clearly see her stepping up on a low stone wall and mounting a horse—wedding dress and all.

  Hawk's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. His body tensed and he stifled an oath when he saw Rushka, who had been standing silently beside them, trace a gesture upon the air. "What are you doing!" Hawk growled, closing his hand around the Rom's arm.

  Rushka stopped and his brown eyes rested on the Hawk with deep affection and deeper sorrow. "We had hoped he wouldn't come, my friend. We took all the precautions… the rowan crosses. The runes. I did everything I could to prevent it."

  "Who wouldn't come? What are you talking about? Prevent what?" Hawk gritted. Every inch of his body was suddenly alive. All day something had been gnawing at him, demanding that he take action, and now it exploded to a fever pitch in his blood. He'd like nothing more than to take action—but against what? What was happening? The thunder of approaching horses rumbled the earth behind him.

  "He comes." Rushka tried to retrieve his arm from the Hawk's deadly grip, but dislodging a boulder from his chest might have been easier.

  The clip-clop of horses' hooves canted up the ridge, drawing nearer.

  "Talk to me," Hawk gritted, glaring down at Rushka. "Now."

  "Hawk?" Lydia asked, worried.

  "Hawk," Tavis warned.

  "Hawk." His wife's husky voice cut through the night behind him.

  The Hawk froze, his gaze locked on the elderly Rom who'd been like a father to him for so many years. A flicker in the man's eyes warned him not to turn. To just pretend nothing was happening. Do not look at your wife, Rushka's eyes were saying. He could see her, mirrored deep in the Rom's brown eyes. Not turn around? Impossible.

  Hawk tugged his furious gaze from Rushka. He turned on one booted heel, slowly.

  His wife. And next to her, upon the Hawk's own black charger, sat Adam. Hawk stood in silence, his hands fisted at his sides. The ridge was eerily still, not one child peeped, not one crofter breathed so much as a whisper or troubled murmur.

  "Lorekeeper." Adam nodded a familiar acknowledgment to Rushka, and Hawk's gaze drifted between the strange smithy and his Rom friend. Rushka was white as new-fallen snow. His brown eyes were huge and deep, his lean body rigid. He did not return the greeting, but cast his eyes to the ground, signing those strange symbols furiously.

  Adam laughed. "One would think you might have realized that it hasn't helped so far, old man. Give it up. Not even your… sacrifice… helped. Although it did mollify me slightly."

  Lydia gasped. "What sacrifice?"

  No one answered her.

  "What sacrifice?" she repeated tersely. "Does he mean Esmerelda?" When no one responded, she shook Rushka by the arm. "Does he?" Her eyes flew back to Adam. "Who are you?" she demanded, her eyes narrowing like a mother bear's as she prepared to defend her cubs.

  Rushka dragged her against him. "Be still, milady," he gritted. "Do not interfere in that which you don't understand."

  "Don't tell me
what I—" Lydia began heatedly, then shut her mouth beneath the Hawk's lethal gaze.

  Hawk turned back to Adrienne and calmly raised his hands to help her dismount, as though nothing were amiss.

  Adam laughed again, and it made Hawk's skin crawl. "She goes with me, Lord Buzzard."

  "She stays with me. She is my wife. And it's Hawk. Lord Hawk to you."

  "Nay. A vulture, a sad scavenger to pick over the unwanted remains, Lord Buzzard. She chooses was the deal made, do you recall? I saved your wife for a price. The price is now paid. You've lost."

  "Nay." The Hawk shook his head slowly. "She chose already, and'twas me she chose."

  "It would appear she unchose you," Adam mocked.

  "Get off my horse, smithy. Now."

  "Hawk!" Rushka warned, low and worried.

  "Hawk." It was Adrienne's voice that stilled him. Froze him in mid-step toward the smithy. Until now, the Hawk had been focusing his attention and anger on the smithy. And he knew why. It was the same reason he had delayed turning around when he heard the horses approaching. The reason why he'd looked at Rushka instead. He was afraid to look at his wife, of what he might see in her lovely eyes. Might she truly have unchosen him? Could he have been so completely wrong? He paused, hand on his sword hilt, and forced his eyes to hers. The insecurity that had seized him the very first day he'd found his wife at the smithy's forge reclaimed him with a vengeance.

  Her face was smooth and void of emotion. "He speaks the truth. I have chosen him."

  Hawk gaped at her, stunned. Not so much as a flicker of emotion in her silver eyes. "How is he making you lie, lass?" Hawk refused to believe her words, clinging to his faith in her. "What is he threatening you with, my heart?"

  "Nothing," Adrienne said coldly, "and stop calling me that! I have never been your heart. I told you that from the beginning. I don't want you. It was Adam all along."

  Hawk searched her face. Cool, composed, she sat the mare like a queen. Regal and untouchable. "And just what the hell was Uster, then?" he growled.

  She shrugged, her hands palms up. "A vacation?" she replied flippantly.

  Hawk tensed, his jaw gritting. "Then just what were the stables this afternoon—"

  "A mistake," Adam cut him off flatly. "One she won't be repeating."

  Hawk's gaze never wavered from Adrienne's. "Was it a mistake?" he asked softly.

  Adrienne inclined her head. A pause the length of a heartbeat. "Yes."

  The Hawk saw not so much as a flicker in her face. "What game play you, lass?" he breathed, danger emanating from every inch of his rigid stance, charging the air around them.

  The night hung still and heavy. On the ridge not one person moved, riveted to the terrible scene unfolding.

  "No game, Hawk. It's over between us. Sorry." Another nonchalant shrug.

  "Adrienne, stop jesting—" he growled.

  "'Tis no jest," she interrupted him with sudden anger. "The only joke here is on you! You didn't really think I could stay here, did you? I mean, come on!" She waved a hand dismissively at the splendor of the wedding feast. "I'm from the twentieth century, you fool. I'm used to luxuries. It's the little things that spoil. Coffee. Steaming showers, limousines, and all the glitter and hubbub. This was a lovely diversion—quite a little getaway with some of the most fascinating men…" She smiled at Adam, and it took every ounce of the Hawk's will not to leap at the smithy and choke the life from his arrogant body.

  Instead, he stood like a marble effigy, hands curled at his side. "You were a virgin—"

  "So? You taught me pleasure. But the smithy gave me more. It's that simple." Adrienne fiddled with the reins of her mount.

  "Nay!" Hawk roared. " 'Tis some game! What have you threatened my wife with, smithy?"

  But it was Adrienne who answered, in that same calm, utterly detached voice. That husky voice that made him think he'd gone mad, for the words tumbling forth must surely be lies. Yet she didn't look as if she was being forced. There was no sword to her throat. No shimmer of tears in her eyes. And her voice, ah… it was level and calm. "He has threatened me only with greater pleasure than you ever gave me. He has true magic at his command. Don't waste your time hunting for us. You won't find us. He has promised to take me to places I've never dreamed existed." Adrienne nudged her mount closer to the smithy's.

  Adam flashed a blinding smile at the Hawk. "Looks like you lost after all, pretty bird."

  "Nay!" Hawk roared, lunging for the smithy and drawing his sword in one fluid sweep. The charger bucked at the Hawk's bellow and sidestepped wildly.

  Rushka grabbed the Hawk's arm and cleaved his blow down so hard that the sword lodged in the earth at his feet.

  Adam raised his hand.

  "Nay!" Adrienne quickly restrained the smithy's hand. "You will not hurt him! No bloodshed. You prom—it's messy," she appended. "I don't like blood. It makes me ill."

  Adam cocked his head and lowered his hand. "Your wish is my command, Beauty."

  "Is this truly what you wish, lass?" Hawk's eyes were black and soulless.

  "Yes," she said softly. Carefully.

  "He is not forcing you?" Tell me, just say the word, wife, and I will kill him with my bare hands.

  She shook her head and met his gaze levelly.

  "Say it," Hawk gritted. "He's not forcing you?"

  "He uses… no coercion against… me."

  "Do you… love… him?" He hated himself when his voice broke roughly over the words. His throat was so tight he could scarcely breathe.

  "I love him the way I loved Eberhard," she sighed. She smiled vapidly at Adam, who suddenly narrowed his eyes at her last words.

  "Enough, Beauty." Adam captured her hand in his. "The universe awaits us and your pleasure is my command."

  Hawk's heart wrenched and twisted. The damned Ever-hard. Her first love, whether he'd ever made love to her or not. He turned away before he could make a bloody massacre of the ridge singlehandedly.

  When he finally returned his gaze to her, it was too late—she was gone.

  The mass of hundreds on the ridge at Dalkeith-Upon-the-Sea stood numbly as both horses and riders simply vanished into the night air. One moment they were there. The next—nothing.

  But a soft voice floated on the breeze. You were right about your falcons, Sidheach, came the strange last words of the woman he'd loved and who had effectively destroyed the once proud laird of Dalkeith-Upon-the-Sea.

  Lydia clutched at his sleeve limply.

  Rushka cursed harshly in a language no one had ever heard before.

  Hawk only stared blindly into the night.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 30

  "where are we?" adrienne asked adam woodenly.

  He was leading her mount by the reins down a dark path through a strange forest. Twisted branches wove a gnarled canopy above her head. Occasionally a ray of faint light would pierce the dense gloom and the creaking branches would glimmer like bleached bones.

  No crickets. No normal noises, only the screech of flying creatures. The bracken rustled, revealing brief glimpses of dwarfed gnomes with wild faces. She shivered violently and hugged her arms around herself.

  "You are in my realm."

  "Who are you really, Adam Black?" Her voice broke on the simple sentence, raw and full of anguish.

  For an answer, she received a mocking smile. Nothing more.

  "Tell me," she demanded dully. But the dark man at her side rode in silence.

  "At least tell me why."

  "Why what?" He cocked a curious brow at her.

  "Why did you do this to me? What did I do? Why did you send me back in time and take me away again?" And break my heart and leave me dying inside?

  Adam stopped their mounts, amusement lighting his dark visage. He reached out a hand to stroke her pale cheek and she shuddered beneath his hand. "Oh, Beauty, is that what you think? How very self-engrossed and utterly charming you are." His laughter rolled. But it was his next words that shafted through her soul lik
e a knife. "It had nothing to do with you, my winsome beauty. Any beautiful woman would have sufficed. But I thought you hated beautiful men. I heard you, there in your library, swearing off men, all men. Yet, it would seem I was mistaken. Or you lied, which is more likely."

  "What are you saying?" she breathed faintly. Any woman would have sufficed? Her heart was laid bare and cleaved through by this man's twisted game, and he dared say so baldly that it hadn't mattered one whit who she was? A pawn? Again? Her jaw locked temporarily. I will not scream. I will not. When she was certain she could speak without raging she said coolly, "You got what you wanted. Why won't you just tell me who you are?" She had to find out more about this man to avenge herself. To avenge her husband.

  "True. I did get what I wanted. The Hawk looked utterly destroyed, wouldn't you say? Crushed." Adam flicked his hand lightly over hers. "You did very well tonight, Beauty. But tell me"—his eyes searched hers intently, and she stiffened when it seemed they might penetrate into her very soul—"what did you mean about his falcons?"

  Adrienne's breath hitched. "He told me once that all his falcons had flown him," she lied evenly. "You told me I had to be utterly convincing or you would kill him, so I chose that reminder to drive the point home. That's all."

  "That had better be all." His face was cold and unforgiving. Just as it had been in the broch before the Hawk had come looking for her. Before what should have been the wedding of her dreams. Icily, he'd explained to her in exact and excruciating detail precisely how he would destroy the Hawk and everyone at Dalkeith if she failed his will. Then he'd shown her things he could do. Things her mind still couldn't quite comprehend. But she'd understood that he was perfectly capable of carrying out the mass destruction he'd threatened. Two choices he'd given her—either lie to the Hawk and break his heart, not to mention her own, or stand by while Adam used his unnatural powers to kill him. Then Lydia. Followed by every man, woman, and child at Dalkeith.

  No, there had been no choice at all. The hellish decision had given her an intimate understanding of what a man called the king's whore might once have suffered.