His smile faded. “Lass, it’s been you both times. When are you going to face the facts? You must be guarded. You’ll get used to it. In time you’ll scarce notice them.” He gestured at the dozen brawny men standing outside the Green Lady’s room.
She shot a withering glance at her “elite guard” as he called them. They stood legs wide, arms folded across thin broad chests. Implacable, stony faces, and all of them with physiques that would make Atlas consider shrugging half his weight over. Where do they breed these kind of men? The Bonny and Braw Beefcake Farm? She snorted her disgust. “What you don’t understand is that if you’re so busy protecting me, the assassin is going to get whoever they’re really after. Because it’s not me!”
“Do they call you ‘Mad Janet’ because you refuse to accept reality?” he wondered. “Reality is that someone wishes you dead. Reality is that I am only trying to protect you. Reality is that you are my wife and I will always keep you safe from harm.” He was leaning closer as he spoke, punctuating the phrase reality is with a sharp stab at the air directly in front of her. Adrienne compensated by shrinking deeper into her haven of feathers each time he stabbed.
“It is my duty, my honor, and my pleasure,” he continued. His eyes swept her upturned face and darkened with desire. “Reality … ah … reality is that you are exquisitely beautiful, my heart,” he said in a voice suddenly roughened.
His voice conjured images of sweet cream blended with fine Scotch, tossed over melting ice cubes. Smooth and rough at the same time. It unnerved her, flatly shattering what little composure she’d been hugging tightly around her. When he wet his full lower lip with his tongue her mouth went dry as a desert. And his dark eyes flecked with gold were a smoldering promise of endless passion. His eyes that were locked on her lips and oh, but he was going to kiss her and she would do anything to prevent that!
“It’s time you know the truth. I am not Mad Janet,” she snapped, saying something, anything, whatever came to mind to keep his lips from claiming hers in that intoxicating pleasure. “And for the umpteenth time—I am not your blasted heart!”
He agreed instantly. “I didn’t think you were. Mad, I mean. But you are my heart, whether you like it or not. By the bye, neither does Lydia. Think you’re mad, that is. We both know you’re intelligent and capable. Except when it comes to two things: your safety and me. You’re completely unreasonable about both of those issues.” He shrugged one of his muscled shoulders. “That’s why I’m having this wee talk with you. To help you see things more clearly.”
“Oooh! Those are the two things you’re being so pigheaded about. I’m not in danger and I don’t want you!”
He laughed. Damn the man, but he laughed. “You are in danger, and as to wanting me …” He moved closer. His weight settling on the down ticks beside her caused her to shift and roll alarmingly. Right into his arms. How convenient, she thought sardonically. Now she understood why they’d used all those down ticks in the olden days. And why they’d had so many children.
“You’re right, I do want you—”
He froze. “You do?”
“—out of my room,” she continued. “Out of my face and out of my life. Don’t get in my space, don’t even breathe my air, okay?”
“It’s my air, by the bye, as laird, and all that. But I could be persuaded to share it with you, sweet wife.”
He was smiling!
“And I am not your wife! Or at least, not the one you were supposed to get! I’m from the nineteen nineties—that’s almost five hundred years in the future in case you can’t add—and the Comyn killed his own daughter. How? I don’t know, but I have my suspicions, and I haven’t got the faintest idea how I ended up in his lap. But he had to marry someone to you—he said I was a godsend—so he used me when I popped in! And that’s the long and the short of how I ended up getting stuck with you.”
There. It was out. The truth. That should stop him from any further plans of seduction. No matter that if what Lydia had told her was true about King James, she’d just jeopardized the entire Douglas clan. Her words prevented his lips from reaching hers and that was the most imminent danger she could see. Not even the wrath of vengeful kings seemed quite as threatening. One more beautiful man, one more broken heart.
The Hawk sat motionless. He studied her a long moment in silence, as if digesting what she’d just said. Then a gentle smile chased the clouds from his eyes. “Grimm told me you wove outlandish tales. He said you had an epic imagination. Your father told Grimm how you begged to be allowed to be his bard, rather than his daughter. Lass, I have nothing against a good tale and will willingly listen, if you but take my counsel about your safety.”