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.