Free Beyond the Highland Mist by Karen Marie Moning Page A

her.
    Adrienne stared back unblinkingly. She could be rude too.
    “I think she said coffee,” Grimm suggested after a long pause, “although I’ve heard more intelligible sounds from some of our falcons.”
    Adrienne rolled her eyes. Morning always lent a husky quality to her brandy-rich voice. “I need coffee,” she explained patiently. “And my voice is always like this in the morning.”
    “A voice to cherish, smooth and complex as the finest malt Scotch,” the Hawk purred. His eyes lingered on her face, then slid gently down to her toes. How in God’s name could a mere look make her feel as if he’d peeled her gown from her body slowly and deliciously?
    “Didn’t that fellow from Ceylon leave a store of odd things in the buttery? And I’m Lydia Douglas, by the bye, this rapscallion’s—”
    “Mother—”
    “Hush. You botched the wedding and you’re making a fine mess of things now, so just hush.”
    Adrienne forgave him for almost everything at that moment, because he looked like a small boy as he blinked insilence. “My lady,” she said, attempting a curtsy and hoping she’d addressed Hawk’s mother correctly because she liked the woman instinctively, even if she had given birth to that overbearing womanizer.
    “Lydia is fine, and if I may—Adrienne? Hawk told me it’s your address of preference.”
    “Adrienne is wonderful. Coffee?”
    Lydia laughed, obviously unabashed by this single-minded obsession. “I take it you’re used to having the strong brew of a morn. My healer tells me it has rejuvenating properties and is a natural energizer.”
    “Yes.” Adrienne nodded vehemently.
    “The buttery, Hawk,” Lydia encouraged her son.
    “You’re going to let me go?” he asked caustically.
    “Since when do you listen to me?” Lydia asked with a twinkle in her eye. “Take your new wife to find her coffee. And Adrienne, if you need aught else, even a commiserating ear, do find me. I spend much of the day in my gardens. Anyone can point you the way.”
    “Thank you.” Adrienne meant it from the bottom of her heart. How nice it was to have someone extend a friendly welcome! Someone not male and beautiful beyond endurance.
    “Come.” The Hawk extended a hand to her. Refusing to touch him, she said sweetly, “After you.”
    “Nay, lass, after you.” He motioned. He’d follow the sweet curve of her hips past the horned minions of hell.
    “I must insist,” Adrienne demurred.
    “As must I,” he countered.
    “Go,” she snapped.
    He folded his powerful arms across his chest and resolutely met her gaze.
    “Oh, for God’s sake, do we have to fight about this, too?”
    “Not if you obey me, lass.”
    Behind them Lydia half laughed, half groaned. “Why don’t the two of you just walk side by side,” she said encouragingly.
    “Fine,” Adrienne snapped.
    “Fine,” the Hawk snarled.

    Lydia laughed until tears twinkled in her merry green eyes. Finally—a lass worthy of her son.

C HAPTER 8
    S IDE BY SIDE. S HE DIDN’T HAVE TO LOOK AT HIM.
T HANK G OD for small favors.
    “And here we have the buttery,” the Hawk said as he unlocked the door and pushed it open. Adrienne’s spirits rose. Her nose twitched delicately. She could smell coffee beans, spices, teas, all manner of wonderful things. She practically vaulted into the room, the Hawk at her heels. As she was about to plunge a hand deep into the woven brown sack from which issued the most delicious aroma of sinfully dark coffee, the Hawk somehow managed to insinuate himself between Adrienne and her prize.
    “It would seem you quite like your coffee,” he observed, with too keen an interest for her liking.
    “Yes.” She shifted her weight from foot to foot, impatiently, but the man had a lot of body to block her way with. “Move, Hawk,” she complained, and he laughed softly as he gripped her waist with his big hands, nearly circling it.
    Adrienne froze as a scent even more compelling than her beloved coffee tantalized