Beyond the Highland Mist by Karen Marie Moning Read Free Book Online Page A

struggled violently. “Let me go!”
    But he didn’t. He only eased his tight grip enough to turn her around so that she was sprawled atop him, facing him.
Big, big mistake
, she thought mournfully. It presented a whole new array of problems, starting with her breasts being crushed against him, her leg caught between his, and her palms splayed on his muscular chest. His white linen shirt was open and pure male heat rose from his broad chest. There was blood trickling down his arrogantlycurved lower lip, and for an insane moment she actually considered licking it off. In one swift, graceful motion he rolled her beneath him and she lost her breath. Her lips parted. She stared in mute fascination and knew in that terrifying instant the man she had married by proxy was about to kiss her and she was quite certain her life would never be the same again if he did.
    She snarled. He smiled and lowered his head toward hers.
    Just then the blacksmith burst back into the clearing. “Not a damned thing!” he spat. “Whoever it was is gone.”
    The Hawk jerked away in surprise and Adrienne seized the moment to push against him. She might just as well have tried to push the Sphinx across the sand and into the Nile.
    It was only then that Adrienne saw the arrow still quivering in the tree that she had been, moments before, standing directly in front of, soundly berating her new husband. Her eyes widened as she gazed up at the Hawk questioningly. This was all too weird.
    “Whom have you offended?” Her husband shook her smartly. “Who seeks to kill you?”
    “How do you know it wasn’t you they were after, that it wasn’t just a bad shot?”
    “Nobody wants to kill me, lass.”
    “From what I hear your last lover tried to do just that,” she retorted nastily.
    He paled ever so slightly beneath the flawless bronze of his skin.
    The blacksmith laughed.
    Her neck was getting sore from peering up at him. “Get off me,” she growled at her husband.
    She wasn’t prepared when the Hawk’s eyes darkened and he rolled over and pushed her from him.
    “Though you persist in rejecting me,
wife
, I think you may need me,” Hawk said softly.
    “I don’t think so,” she retorted fiercely.
    “I’ll be here, should you reconsider.”
    “I’ll take my chances. No one shot anything in my direction until you showed up. That makes two attempts that I know of on you, and none on me.” She stood up, brushing her gown off. Dirt and nettles stuck to the heavy fabric. She tugged a few leaves from her hair and dusted off her rump until she became aware of an uncomfortable sensation. Slowly she raised her eyes from her clothing to find both men watching her with the intensity of wolves. Large, hungry wolves.
    “What?” she snapped.
    The blacksmith laughed again. The sound was deep, dark, and mysterious. “Methinks the lady doth not see how sweetly cruel beckons such beauty.”
    “Spare me,” she said tiredly.
    “Fair the dawn of yon lass’s blush, rich and ripe and deeply lush.” Her husband was not about to be outdone.
    Adrienne stamped a foot and glared at them both. Where was her Shakespeare when she needed it? “For I have sworn thee fair and thought thee bright/, who art as black as hell, as dark as night,” she muttered.
    The smithy threw his head back and roared with laughter. Her husband’s lips curved in an appreciative smile at her wit.
    Hawk stood then and extended his hand. “Cry peace with me, lass.”
    Cry. The man could make an angel weep. But she was hungry. Thirsty. Tired. She took his hand, vowing fiercely to take nothing more. Ever.
    As her husband guided her from the clearing thesmithy’s voice followed on a jasmine-scented breeze, and she was surprised that her husband didn’t react. Either he was not a possessive man, or he simply hadn’t heard. For clearly she heard the smithy say, “Woman who renders all men as weak kittens to cream, I can take you places you’ve known only in your