Fortunately and unfortunately—depending on how he viewed it—Adrienne declined his offer. Relieved, Hawk resolved to pack Olivia off at the earliest moment possible then reclaim his wife from the smithy and have a good long talk with her.
“We wouldn’t wish to disturb your cozy tête-à-tête,” Adrienne demurred. “Bouche-à-bouche is more like it,” she muttered half under her breath.
“What did you just say?” Olivia asked sweetly. “Tu parles français?”
“No,” Adrienne replied flatly.
Olivia laughed airily and studied her. “You seem to be a woman of no few secrets, Janet Comyn. Perhaps you and I should have our own tête-à-tête and exchange a few of those intimacies. After all”—her gaze wandered possessively over the Hawk—“we share much in common. I’m sure you’d be fascinated to hear of the Hawk’s time at James’s court. He was quite the man about—”
“That would be lovely,” Adrienne interrupted her smoothly, terminating the flow of Olivia’s poisonous words. Her insides were already in a turmoil; if she heard much more, she’d either scream or cry—she didn’t know which, but she did know it wouldn’t be at all ladylike. “Some other time, however, Olivia. I quite have my hands full right now.” She wrapped her hands around Adam’s bicep, imitating Olivia’s clutch on the Hawk. Pressing closer to Adam, she let him steer her away.
“Smithy!” Hawk finally found his voice. He’d listened to the women’s conversation in frozen horror, struggling to conceive an entree into the risky repartee; but once again Adrienne had unwittingly spared him by silencing Olivia before the Hawk had resorted to stuffing his sporran into her scheming, lying mouth.
Adam paused mid-stride and moved closer to Adrienne. Her crimson cape flickered in the soft breeze and Hawk felt as if it was taunting him. Where the hell had she gotten that cape?
“My lord?” Adam smiled sardonically. His large, tanned hand rose to cover Adrienne’s where it rested on his arm.
“There are ninety-two horses I’m going to need shoes for. That’s three hundred and sixty-eight shoes. Get on it. This minute.”
“Certainly, my lord.” Adam smiled gamely. “Heating up a forge is just what I had in mind.”
Hawk’s hands clenched into fists at his sides.
“Ninety-two! Hawk!” Olivia fanned her breasts. Her greedy attention had passed to the smithy and she was speculatively looking Adam over. Hawk watched as her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. “I knew you were wealthy, but that’s a lot of prime flesh,” she drawled, her eyes moving up and down, surveying the smithy from head to toe. She dragged her gaze away from Adam. “Perhaps you might spare a stud for me?” She looked sidewise at the Hawk beneath fluttery lashes.
“Definitely.” Hawk sighed as he watched his wife’s retreating form. “What do you think of our smithy, Olivia?” he asked cautiously.
What was she doing? Had she lost her mind? When Lydia had proposed that she seek out Adam and stroll the gardens with him, it had seemed like a good idea, although now Adrienne hadn’t the faintest idea why.
Because Hawk made her angry, that’s why. He’d dared think she was so stupid that he could pursue her and invite his mistress to visit all in the same day.
Once before she’d been just that stupid. Once, she might have convinced herself that Olivia was a troublemaking trespasser and that the Hawk was full of pristine intentions. Yes, once she would have believed that Eberhard really was going to the bathroom, leaving her in the main room of the party, while in fact he was stealing a quickie in the pool-house with a voluptuous socialite.
But she wasn’t that woman anymore. She never would be again.
Hawk, the legendary seducer of women, had spent the afternoon trying to convince her that she was the only one he desired, but by dinner a new woman had appeared. An old flame. And he smiled at her. He strolled in the gardens with her. He forgot Adrienne’s coffee for her. He was just one of those men who paid attention to whichever woman was in his face and willing.
Olivia was certainly willing.
And just why do you care, Adrienne?
I don’t care. I just don’t like being treated like a fool!
“The Hawk makes a fool of you,” Adam said softly.
Adrienne smothered a gasp. The man seemed to read her very mind. Or it was so true that anyone could see it, even the smithy?
“You deserve far better, Beauty. I would gift you with anything you desired. Silks for your perfect body. All the coffee beans on Jamaica’s Blue Mountain. Yet he gifts you with nothing.”