Adrienne blew out a frustrated breath that sent a strand of her silvery-blond hair brushing the Hawk’s face. He kissed it as it slid gently across his mouth.

Flames uncoiled in her belly. She shut her eyes and gathered her composure from the fleeting corners of her soul. I will not think about him kissing any part of me, she told herself firmly.

“I am not Red Comyn’s daughter,” she sighed, squeezing her eyes more tightly shut. When was she going to figure out that closing her eyes didn’t make anything go away? She opened her eyes. Oh dear heaven, but the man was magnificent. She pondered the thought with some pride that she could dislike him so intensely, yet still be so objective about his good looks. A sure sign of her maturity.

“Nay, it doesn’t matter. You are my wife now. That’s all that matters.”

“Hawk—”

“Hush, lass.”

Adrienne stilled, absorbed in the warmth of his hands on hers. When had he taken her hands in his? And why hadn’t she pulled away instinctively? And why was the slow, sensual movement of his skin against hers so intoxicating?

“Adrienne … this Callabron. For it to work correctly it must enter the body through a primary vessel of blood.” His fingers lightly skimmed the faint red mark that still puckered the translucent skin of her throat. “This was no near miss. This was perfect aim.”

“Who would want to kill me?” She swallowed tightly. How could anyone want to? No one here knew her. But … what if someone wanted to kill Mad Janet, and didn’t know she wasn’t her?

“For that I have no answer, my heart. Yet. But until I do you will be guarded day and night. Every moment, every breath. I will not risk your life foolishly again.”

“But I am not Janet Comyn,” she tried again, stubbornly.

His ebony gaze searched her clear gray eyes intently. “Lass, I really don’t care who you are, or have been, or need to think you’ll be. I want you. In my life. In my arms. In my bed. If it makes you feel better to believe this … this thing about being from the future, then believe it if you must. But from this day on, you are first and foremost my wife, and I will keep you safe from anything that would hurt you. You need never fear again.”

Adrienne raised her hands helplessly. “Fine. Guard me. So can I get up now?”

“No.”

“When?” she asked plaintively.

“When I say so.” He smiled disarmingly and ducked to steal a kiss. His face came smack up against both her hands. It took every ounce of her willpower not to cradle it with her palms and lead him to the kiss he sought with shaking hands.

He growled and gave her a long measuring look. “I should treat you like one of my falcons, wife.”

“Let me get out of bed,” she bartered prettily. No way was she going to ask how he treated his falcons.

He growled, lower in his throat, and left then. But the elite dozen stayed at her door.

After he was gone she remembered one thing he’d said most clearly. You need never fear again. The man was just too good to be true.

The days of healing were pure bliss. Lydia overrode the Hawk’s objections and had a chaise carried out to the gardens for Adrienne. Although she was still heavily guarded, she was able to curl up in the golden sunshine like a sleepy, smug cat, which went a long way toward healing her. The rose-drenched days of conversation with Lydia, as they came to know one another through small talk and small silences, healed more than her exhausted body. Sipping tea (she would have preferred coffee, but that would have brought the Hawk and his boons into the picture) and sharing stories, occasionally Adrienne would shiver with the intense feeling that this was where she’d belonged all her life.

Love can grow among the rocks and thorns of life, she thought in one of those small silences that was comfortable as a favored, love-worn blanket. From the desolate barrens of her own life, somehow, she had come to be here, and here life was blessed—peaceful and perfect and simple.

Adrienne healed more quickly than anyone imagined possible. Tavis pointed out that she had the resilience of youth on her side, as he flexed and studied his time-gnarled hands. Not to mention an indomitable nature, he’d added. You mean stubborn, the Hawk had corrected him.

Lydia believed there might have been just a blush of love on her cheeks. Ha! Hawk had scoffed. Love of the sunshine, perhaps. And Lydia had almost laughed aloud at the seething look of jealousy Hawk had turned on the bright rays as he’d gazed out the kitchen windows.

Grimm offered the likelihood that she was so angry with the Hawk that she hurried her healing just to fight with him on equal footing. Now there’s a man who understands women, Hawk had thought.