The Highlander Series 7-Book Bundle

by Karen Marie Moning

  But the Hawk wasn’t unaware—he heard her one word and desire slammed through him so savagely that he shuddered. Hot and hard, ruthlessly, the Hawk moved his mouth over hers. He slanted across her lips with a relentless hunger that caused stars to shimmer behind her shut eyes.

  Adrienne’s eyes flew open for the sheer pleasure of looking at him and she saw that he was looking directly into them with such a smoldering promise of passion that she whimpered against his mouth.

  Hundreds of feet below, nature conspired with the raw, unquenchable mystery of passion in its rhythm; the sensual tempo of the waves as billions of gallons of water came in with a fury, then eased out. Wave after wave of sensation crashed over Adrienne; she was adrift in a sea of such passion that she literally felt herself being reshaped, molded to this man’s touch, just as the rocks below her were molded by the ocean’s relentless caress.

  The Hawk’s tongue was hot silk, exploring her mouth, teasing her tongue. “Oh,” she whispered, “I never knew….”

  “Is kissing me so bad, then, lass?”

  “It’s not the kissing that’s bad …” Her words were lost in a soft moan as she tipped her head back for more kisses.

  “What’s bad, my heart?” Hawk nipped her neck, gently.

  “Oooh! … you!”

  “Me? I’m bad?” He wouldn’t let her answer for a long moment while he nibbled at her lower lip, teased it, sucked it into his mouth, then slowly released it.

  Adrienne drew a shaky breath. “Well … I mean … you are a man …”

  “Yes,” he encouraged.

  “And very beautiful at that….”

  “Mmm … yes?”

  “And I hate beautiful men….” Her hands moved over his shoulders, his broad muscled back, and tapered down over his tight waist to his muscular buttocks. She was shocked at her own daring, thrilled by the groan of pleasure she coaxed from him.

  “I can tell. Hate me just like that, lass. Hate me like that again. Hate me all you need to hate me.”

  In one fluid motion, the Hawk tumbled her gently to the ground and stretched his hard body over hers. Adrienne was amazed; she’d never been this intimate with Eberhard, never experienced anything like it before, this heady feeling of lying beneath a man. How tantalizing it was: the thrust of her breasts against his broad chest; the possessive way he snared and kept one of her legs between his; the ridge of his enormous cock against the curve of her thigh. When he shifted his weight so that rigid muscle rode rock-hard between her legs, the heat simmering between them flared, causing muscles to clench inside her she hadn’t known she possessed. He rotated his hips, rubbing in slow erotic circles against her. She felt light-headed, disoriented by the sensations he evoked. She arched against him, wrapping a leg over him to pull him closer—to trap the heated man of him snug in the ache between her thighs.

  He tugged gently at the bodice of her gown and slid it down over her shoulders, baring her breasts for his attentive expertise. “Beautiful,” he murmured, his fingers teasing the puckered crests. When he circled the rosy peaks with his tongue, tendrils of fire radiated through her body, culminating in exquisite heat in her belly, and lower still.

  “Oh my God!” Adrienne tossed her head in the fragrant grass and threaded her fingers possessively through his dark mane.

  Hawk groaned, his hot breath fanning her breast. “How do you do this to me, lass?” She was all he’d ever dreamed he might one day have, then counseled himself sternly to give up the dreaming as a foolish lad’s fancy.

  But now he felt very much like that foolish lad again.

  He almost laughed at the rightness of it. After all the women he’d had, he loved this one. The full enormity of his realization astounded and delighted him; he lowered his lips to hers, demanding wordlessly that she love him back. He put every ounce of longing, every shred of roguish seduction at his disposal into that silent plea—he kissed her so deeply, he no longer knew where he ended and she began. Her hips yielded when he thrust against her and rose hungrily to find his when he drew back. Primitive sounds escaped her lips, which were swollen and plum-colored from his fierce kisses.

  “Love me, Adrienne,” he commanded roughly. “Love me!”

  Her only reply was a throaty moan.

  “Tell me you want me, lass,” he demanded hungrily against her lips.

  “Please …,” came her choked reply as she squeezed her eyes tightly shut. I’ll stop him in just a minute. It will be easier if I don’t look at him.

  “Do you want me, Adrienne?” Hawk asked, pulling back from their kiss. Her plea wasn’t enough of an answer; he had to hear her say the words. That even with her eyes closed, she knew it was him on top of her, him kissing her.

  But she didn’t answer, and her eyes remained shut.

  Hawk groaned and kissed her again anyway, losing himself for a moment in the texture and taste of her sweet lips. But doubt hammered at him. He was aware that if he didn’t push the issue, he might yet carry her to his bed tonight in her sensual, drunken arousal. But he didn’t want Adrienne incoherent. He wanted her wide-awake, fully aware and asking him to touch her. He wanted her to meet his gaze levelly with honest, unabashed hunger, and say the words. Hawk tore his mouth from hers, panting hard.

  “Open your eyes, Adrienne.” He forced himself to lie still, his hips rigid against the seductive arch of her body.

  A wordless moment of shallow breaths passed, their lips inches apart.

  “Look at me. Say my name. Now,” Hawk commanded.

  Adrienne’s eyes opened just a sliver. Don’t make me acknowledge this … don’t ask so much! they pleaded. And again, her body quested upward, begging him to move atop her, to seduce her in her drunken arousal so that tomorrow she could pretend it hadn’t been her choice.

  “Look at me and say my name.” His voice broke harshly on the words. His beautiful, chiseled mouth hovered only a whisper away from hers.

  Adrienne stared up at him mutely. Tears stung her eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks.

  “Why can’t you do it?” he demanded, his brogue rough velvet over broken glass. “Is it so impossible? Sidheach. That’s all you have to say. Or James, even Lyon. Laird Douglas would do!” Anything but Adam.

  Adrienne stared, revulsion at her own weakness choking her. She’d learned nothing! One more inch, one scant movement, and she would be lost as never before. Where the body goes … the heart will follow … say his name and kiss him again, then you can just kiss your soul goodbye. This man has the power to destroy you in ways Eberhard never could.

  “What will it take to make you forget him?”

  And he thought it was Adam, but it wasn’t Adam. It was Eberhard. And there would be nothing left of her this time if she played the fool again.

  “Say my name, lass, for the love of God!” Hawk roared. He was shaking with a mixture of barely restrained passion and disbelief that she could respond to him so erotically, so completely, yet still withhold his name. “If there is any chance for me at all, Adrienne, call out to me! If you can’t even say my name, then I stand no chance of ever gaining your love!”

  His last plea was the agonized cry of a wounded animal; it laid open her heart.

  A pulse throbbed in his neck and she raised her hand to place trembling fingers against it. Harder and harder she steeled her heart, until it was safe again behind a glacier of remembrance and regret.

  He pushed her hand away.

  “Say it.” He forced his demand through gritted teeth.

  “Now isn’t this just sooo touching. I’ll help her.” Olivia’s voice dripped venom. “Just call him the king’s whore,” she purred. “That’s all we ever called him.”

  The storm raging in him stilled at precisely that moment.

  “Is it true?” Adrienne finally whispered, her eyes wide and deep with hurt. Hurt and something else. Hawk saw the unspoken cry in her slate depths. He wanted to deny it, to explain the nightmare away. But he would not lie to this lass. She would have to take
him in full truth or not at all; when she accepted him, if he even had any chance left, she would possess him entirely. Bitterness welled up, cloaking him in a despair so complete he almost cried aloud with the agony of it.

  “I was called the king’s whore,” he replied stiffly.

  Shadows leapt and flickered in her opalescent silver eyes. Darkness he had vowed to ease, he had fed with his own hands.

  He rolled from her and rose slowly, then walked away into the night as silent as a wolf, leaving her on the edge of a precipice with his vengeful ex-mistress. He hoped she’d simply push the spiteful Olivia over the edge, but he knew it was not going to be that easy. For if he judged rightly, his wife would be in Adam’s bed in no time now.

  She was lost to him.

  Better that he had never met this lass so that he might never have known the sweet rush of emotion, the absolving passion, the freeing wings of what love might have been.

  He wandered that night, lost in memories of that time when he had been commanded by his king. All for Dalkeith and his mother, for Ilysse and Adrian. Aye, and fair Scotia from time to time when his king had been wildly foolish. Nay, there had never really been any choice.

  Hawk’s eyes searched the night sky for yet another falling star. He intended to wish upon every one for the rest of his life if necessary. Surely ten thousand wishes could undo one. But the cloud cover had returned and there wasn’t one flicker of a star to be seen in the absolute darkness that surrounded him.

  CHAPTER 17

  “OH MY DEAR, I THOUGHT YOU KNEW!” OLIVIA GUSHED.

  “Go to hell,” Adrienne said softly as she forced herself to her feet.

  “I’m trying to help you—”

  “No you’re not. The only person you’re trying to help is yourself—to a heaping helping of my husband.”

  “Ah, yes. Your precious husband. Have you no curiosity about his time at court?” Olivia purred invitingly.

  “Do you really think I’m stupid enough to believe you would tell me any truth about him? A woman like you?”

  Olivia stopped midsentence, her mouth hanging slightly ajar. “And just what is that supposed to mean?”

  Adrienne’s slate-gray eyes coolly met Olivia’s heavily kohled ovals. “Just that you’re the kind of woman who measures her success by the men she beds and the women she bites and one day soon, and not too far off from the look of you, you’re going to be nothing but a plump, unwanted old woman with no friends. And then how are you going to pass the time?” Olivia might have taken her in years ago, but not much fooled her anymore.

  “How dare you, you petite salope!” Olivia spit out. “I was only offering my help—”

  “By following us, spying on us, and then bringing up his past? His past is gone, Olivia.” Adrienne wasn’t aware she was defending him until she heard herself doing it. “Some people learn from their past, grow better and wiser. My Hawk has done that. You’re just angry because you know he’s not the man he used to be. If he was, he would have stayed in the gardens with you instead of spending the evening talking with me.”

  “Talking? He and I used to … talk … like that too. He’s just temporarily inflamed with a new body. He’ll get over it. And when he does, he’ll come back to my bed.”

  “You’re wrong,” Adrienne said calmly. “And you know it. That’s what really upsets you.”

  “Old dogs do not learn new tricks, sweet young fool,” Olivia sneered.

  Adrienne flashed a saccharin smile at the older woman. “Perhaps not. But sometimes dogs give up their old tricks entirely.”

  “You speak like a woman in love. Yet you wouldn’t say his name,” Olivia declared, arching a penciled brow.

  Adrienne’s smile faded. “I speak for both myself and my husband when I suggest you leave Dalkeith at first light, whether the horses are rested or not. You are no longer welcome here. Don’t ever come back.”

  I sure can pick ‘em, can’t I? she brooded as she picked her way through the garden.

  Just as with Eberhard, the boat-deck-tanned playboy elite who’d manipulated her so flawlessly, she’d been a fool for a beautiful illusion. The real beauty had to come from inside. A man called the king’s whore … well, what kind of beauty was there in that?

  Worse yet was the thought of what she’d been about to do, would have willingly done with the Hawk, if Olivia hadn’t come along. His pleas had virtually undone her defenses, and she knew full well that had Olivia not interrupted them, she would even now be lying beneath his magnificent body, just another one of the king’s whore’s conquests.

  Maybe it’s not like that, Adrienne. Maybe you don’t know the whole story, a small voice in her heart pointed out.

  Maybe I don’t want to know the whole story, she seethed. She clenched her hands until she felt the painful tear of nails in the soft flesh of her palms. I want to go home, she mourned like a lost child. I want Moonie.

  That’s the only thing that’s worth wanting back there, she thought.

  She blew out a frustrated breath.

  “Adrienne.” His voice came out of the shadows of the lower bailey so softly that she thought at first she must have imagined it.

  She whirled to meet his gaze. Moonlight fell in wide shafts through the trees, casting a silver bar across his chiseled face.

  “Leave me alone, Hawk.”

  “What did Olivia tell you?” The words sounded as though they were ripped from him against his will.

  “Why don’t you go ask her? It seems the two of you communicated quite well in the past. A sort of ‘wordless communication,’ if I recall.”

  “Lass, don’t,” he groaned.

  “Why not? Does the truth hurt?”

  “Adrienne, it wasn’t like that. It wasn’t …” His voice trailed off and he sighed.

  “It wasn’t what?” she said icily. Adrienne waited. Would he explain? The word whore could have a variety of meanings, none of them savory. She knew he’d been with beautiful women, and a lot of them from what the Comyn maids had told her, but just how many? A thousand? Ten thousand?

  When the Hawk didn’t reply, Adrienne pushed. “Are you Olivia’s lover?”

  “No, lass!”

  “Were you?” Adrienne forced herself to ask.

  Hawk sighed. “It’s true, but it was a long time ago, and you don’t know the circumstances—”

  Adrienne glared. “I don’t want to know the circumstances under which you would be with a woman like her! If you had any discrimination at all, you would never … You men are all the same!”

  Hawk’s brogue thickened measurably. “Give me a chance, Adrienne. Hear me out. ’Tisna fair to be hating me for things other men may have done to you. One more chance—that’s all I’m asking of you, lass.”

  “I’ve given you too many chances! Leave me alone, Hawk Douglas. Just leave me alone!” Adrienne spun around and raced for the castle before she could humiliate herself by bursting into tears.

  She dreamed of the Hawk and the promise she had glimpsed in his eyes. The hope. If he knew her past, would he still want her? Adrienne’s slumbering psyche struggled mightily with the lot of it. Dare she let herself love him? Dare she not? Her heart was still too bruised. Her mind recoiled from any possibility of further shame and regret. But the temptation to fall grew harder to resist every day. If only she were home in her cocoon of solitude. Safe again, but so lonely …

  Dreaming within a dream, she finally remembered how she’d come to be there, and understood how she might get back home. The way to escape the Hawk and all his infinite promises of passion and pain.

  She was awakened by the impact of the memory. Disentangling herself from the silken sheets, she crossed the room and peered out into the inky night.

  Eberhard’s chess set.

  She could finally recall with perfect clarity what she’d been doing moments before she’d been catapulted through time to land on the Comyn’s lap.

  She’d been in her library, picking up the pieces of Eberhard’s
chess set.

  That dratted chess set really was cursed. When she’d swiped it from Eberhard’s house, she’d been careful not to touch the pieces. Eberhard had often joked about the curse, but Adrienne preferred to give legends, curses, and myths a wide berth. After she’d pilfered the set, she had left it packed, intending to unpack it only if she needed to sell it.

  She knew she’d had the black queen in her hand when she’d appeared on Red Comyn’s lap, but where had it gone from there? She certainly didn’t have it now. Had one of the maids taken it? Would she have to confront the despicable Red Comyn to get it back?

  She shook her head dejectedly. It had to be somewhere at the Comyn keep, and wherever it was she had to make an effort to find it. It could take her home. Could she find her way back to the Comyn keep?

  Of course, she assured herself. After traveling scrubby backroads for two thousand miles, Adrienne de Simone could find her way anywhere. But quickly, while she was still under cover of the night. And before her resolve weakened.

  Thirty minutes later she was ready. Tiptoeing through the kitchen, she’d found an oiled sack and filled it with crusty breads and cheeses and a few apples. Tavis snored in his chair by the door, his hand furled about a half-full glass of—she sniffed cautiously—pure grain alcohol from the smell of it. After a quick stop in the Green Lady’s room where she’d left the boots Lydia had given her, she’d be ready to go.