Much had been begun this day, yet even more remained unfinished. He’d spent most of his morning going over the miller’s books and talking with angry villagers who accused the man of substituting their grain. There was only one miller, so positioned by the king’s men before Hawk had been released from his pledge of service. Being the only one, he had been able to exert absolute control over the villager’s grain and had, in collusion with the local bailiff, indeed been cheating on weights, substituting moldy meal for better grains, and turning a tidy profit three towns northerly.

Hawk sighed. That had been only the first of a dozen problems demanding his attention. He would have to hold the courts for a fortnight to catch up on all that had gone wrong under his benign neglect while he had been off in service to James.

But he had time to remedy the villagers’ many ills, and remedy them he would. His people had been well pleased to have him back and once again taking an interest in their needs. As of this day, three men in Uster now held miller’s tools and miller’s rights. The Hawk smiled. Competition would be good for his people.

Tansy and mint swirled out the door of an open establishment as he passed by. A woman beckoned from the doorway, clad only in a filmy bit of stained and tattered silk. The Hawk cocked an amused brow and smiled, but declined as he continued down the street. His eyes turned dark and bitter. He had more than he could handle waiting for him at home.

Adrienne sat up with a start when she heard the Hawk throw open the door to her chamber. She had been imagining the sweet seduction he had in store for her and had to use all her composure to hide her excitement at his return.

“Oh, you’re back,” she drawled, hoping she had succeeded in masking her delight.

He crossed the room in two awesome strides, took her in his arms, and frowned darkly down at her. He lowered his head inexorably toward her lips, and she turned her face away. Undeterred, he grazed her neck with his teeth until he reached the base where her traitorous pulse beat raggedly. Her breath caught in her throat as he nipped her and ran his tongue up the column of her neck. If his very nearness made her shiver, his kisses would be her complete undoing. His rough shadow beard chafed her skin when he tugged her head back and gently nipped the lobe of her ear. Adrienne sighed her pleasure, then added a little squeal of protest just to be convincing.

“You will forget the smithy, lass,” he promised. A swift yank of her hair forced her to meet his gaze.

“I had no intention of remembering him anyway. He’s nothing more than a pushy, overbearing, liberty-taking scoundrel.”

“Nice try, wife,” Hawk said dryly.

“What do you mean, nice try? Why are you so obsessed with the smithy?”

“Me? You’re the one who’s obsessed with the smithy!” He raised the hood toward her head.

“You are so thickheaded you don’t even see the truth when it’s right in front of you.”

“Oh, but that’s just the point, lass. I saw the truth clearly with my own eyes that day in the garden. Aye, too clearly, and the memory of it seethes in my mind, mocking me. I had just been wounded saving your fickle life, but you had no care for that. Nay, you had other sweet plans in the making. And my absence only made it easier for you. Gone from your side for all of a few hours and so quickly you lay beneath him on the fountain. My fountain. My wife.”

So that was it, she mused. He’d returned and seen the smithy when he’d been doing those foggy frightening things to her, when she’d been fighting him. He’d been standing there watching the smithy practically rape her and, in his mind, believed she was willing. He hadn’t even thought to help her.

“Perhaps I’m not the only one who can’t see so clearly,” she said scathingly. “Perhaps there are two in this room who could benefit from a little inner vision.”

“What say you, lass?” Hawk said softly.

She would not dignify his stupidity with a response. A man had practically raped her, and in his jealousy her husband had simply watched. The more she protested her innocence, the guiltier she would look. And the more she thought about it, the angrier it made her. “I merely suggest you find that inner eye yourself, husband,” she said, just as softly.

Her quiet dignity gave him pause. No mewling or lying or groveling. No justifications. Could it be he had misunderstood what he had seen on the fountain? Perhaps. But he would erase her memories of the smithy, that he vowed. He smiled darkly and seeled her with the silken hood again. Yes, by the time he was finished she would forget Adam Black even existed.