Secrets of Seduction (14 page)

Skye had every intention of succeeding, however. She
had made her choice. Hawkhurst was her future mate, she was sure of it. She had only to make him see it.

That, and win his heart.

Glancing at him now, she swallowed her misgivings. Despite the earl’s rakish behavior in his salad days, he had fallen in love and become a devoted husband and father. Skye devoutly hoped that if he had loved once, he could do so again.

But first she needed to help him put to rest his tragic past. From practically the first moment of meeting him, she had felt his overwhelming sadness, his loneliness, and she meant to put a stop to both. She was most haunted, however, by Hawkhurst’s guilt that he hadn’t perished with his family.

Skye pressed her lips together in determination. She would give him a new reason for living by making him fall in love with her.

A difficult task, yes, but not impossible.

She was a Wilde, after all.

They spent the night at the small seaport of Wexford, and then set out for the town of Kilkenny early the next morning, where Hawkhurst had arranged to rendezvous with Macky. When they arrived at the designated inn, a message awaited them from Macky about his lack of progress, saying that he had ridden to the smaller town of Castlecomer and should return by the next afternoon.

They were met with additional news that did not sit well with Hawkhurst. Due to the traveling fair in town, the inn was nearly full, so they were able to book only a single bedchamber and no private parlors.

To Skye’s disappointment, Hawkhurst said he would
spend the night with his male servants. Perhaps to avoid being cooped up with her for the remainder of the day, however, he offered to show her the sights while they waited for his colleague, much to her surprise and delight.

In medieval times, he told her, Kilkenny had once rivaled Dublin in historical importance but had not grown apace. Even so, it boasted both a cathedral and a castle of gray stone overlooking the River Nore, as well as shops and a market. Upon attending the fair, Hawkhurst bought her an ice and took her to watch the jugglers and acrobats and a troupe of actors performing parts of the Shakespearean comedy
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
.

The engaging entertainments made Skye feel as if she were celebrating a holiday rather than pursuing a somber investigation. Hawkhurst himself seemed to relax a small measure and even cracked a smile once or twice when she teased him about his solemnity.

At the conclusion of the long day, she was pleasantly weary but returned to the inn with reluctance. She hadn’t wanted the enchantment to end.

“Thank you for a lovely day, my lord,” she told him earnestly as they entered the Green Goose. “I can’t remember when I have enjoyed myself more.”

Perhaps Hawkhurst might have answered had the innkeeper not greeted him just then. “My lord, a message arrived for you barely moments ago.”

Hawkhurst took the proffered letter but waited until they had climbed the stairs to her room before breaking the seal and scanning the contents.

“Is it from Macky?” Skye asked.

“Yes. He discovered a possible lead to Rachel Farnwell’s whereabouts.”

Excitement filled Skye. “What does he say?”

“A shopkeeper in Castlecomer recognized the subject in the miniature portrait. It resembles a woman by the name of Meg Donnelly, who lives in a small village close to Castlecomer.”

“That is famous!”

“Don’t raise your hopes too high,” Hawkhurst warned. “It might not be Lady Farnwell.”

“But it might be. So what is our next step? Should we travel there tonight?”

“Such haste isn’t necessary. Macky wishes to investigate further and try to confirm her identity. If so, he won’t approach her alone. You and I will leave in the morning in time to meet with him at noon. It is less than two hours’ drive.”

Skye found it difficult to contain her anticipation, but she realized that no purpose would be served by racing to reach Castlecomer that evening.

They could have dined in the public room of the inn, but Hawkhurst ordered supper to be brought upstairs to her room. Even though she’d given up her face veil once they’d disembarked in Ireland, they wanted to avoid her needless exposure.

Over their meal, Skye became conscious that this might be her last opportunity to be alone with him for a while, since they would be joining his colleague the next morning. She dallied as long as possible over the game of piquet that followed, knowing that Hawkhurst intended to spend the night elsewhere.

When it was time to retire, she stopped him before he rose from the table. “You needn’t leave, my lord.
There is no reason to inconvenience yourself by sleeping with your servants when a perfectly good bed is right here.”

He glanced dismissively at her. “There is only one bed.”

“We have spent two nights together already. What harm will there be in doing so once more? Please, won’t you consider staying here with me tonight? I have not slept well on this entire journey, being alone in strange inns.”

That was completely true. She’d had another nightmare last night, although not a severe one. But she also wanted him to sleep with her so she could comfort him. There were still shadows lingering in his eyes—shadows she longed to banish.

“It would be the gentlemanly thing to do,” Skye added lightly. “You are supposed to be a hero. You should act like one and console me.”

Faint amusement curved his lips, even as he studied her skeptically. “This is another of your connivances, isn’t it?”

There was no avoiding the perceptive depths of his eyes, so she didn’t even try. “I may be conniving,” she readily admitted, “but I usually have good reason. In this case, I can sleep much more peacefully with you. Nothing needs happen between us. We can remain perfectly chaste.”

Hawkhurst hesitated a long moment. When she was about to give up hope, he shook his head in self-deprecation, as if hardly believing he would agree to her proposition. “Very well. I’ll stay.”

Feeling a great surge of relief, Skye smiled. Rising,
she moved around the table. “Here, let me help you off with your coat.”

“I can undress myself,” he said dryly.

“But you have no valet present, and I don’t mind. Besides, I would like you to reciprocate. It is not easy untying a corset by myself.”

He allowed her to take his coat and waistcoat. While she hung the garments on a wall peg, he removed his boots and cravat.

Drawn by his irresistible allure, Skye couldn’t help watching him. His well-tailored shirt and breeches clung to his body, accenting his lean, muscular grace. His shirt followed, revealing the powerful play of the sleek muscles of his chest and shoulders and arms. Her pulse quickened as he stripped down to his drawers. He was so beautiful he took her breath away.

Then he crossed to the bed to turn down the covers, giving her his ravaged back, reminding her once again of his tragic past.

Feeling less steady at the sight of his burn scars, Skye started to undress herself. She managed her gown and half boots and stockings easily, but when it came time to untie her corset, she presented her own back to him.

“Why do I get the feeling you are working your female wiles on me?” Hawkhurst asked as he loosened the strings.

“Perhaps because I am. How else am I to deal with so irritable a grouch as you?”

“I am not such a grouch. I displayed admirable forbearance for not tossing you out on your ear when you snuck into my carriage.”

“So you did. You have been much more pleasant
these past few days. My influence must be wearing off on you.”

The slight huff he gave was part scoff, part chuckle. Skye glanced back over her shoulder at him. “Can you blame me for making use of my feminine wiles? I am not ashamed that I have a knack for dealing with men. As Aunt Isabella says, we women don’t have the advantages you men have, so we must rely on whatever talents we possess.”

Hawkhurst’s eyes flickered with amusement again. “I won’t let you run roughshod over me, sweet wretch.”

“Of course you won’t,” she agreed congenially, but inside she was debating with herself. She well knew she couldn’t have her way as easily with Hawkhurst as with other men. But she intended to try.

When he had loosened her corset, Skye removed it, leaving her wearing only her shift. She meant to sleep that way rather than change into her nightgown. Disappointingly, he seemed impartial to her scant attire, for his gaze barely skimmed over her. Instead, he went around the room, putting out the lamps while she climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to her arms.

Hawkhurst paused another moment before joining her. Rather than move closer, however, he lay on his back, not touching her.

His honor was taking control again, Skye decided. To her, however, it did not seem at all dishonorable for them to share a bed. Not now that she was beginning to think of him as her future husband. Nor would it be shameful if they were to go even further. Yet convincing him of that would be difficult.

But what if she were to resort to more direct measures? Seduction might be her only hope in getting
Hawkhurst to consider her as his potential bride, and more crucially, to fall in love with her.

Her aunt strongly believed that physical passion could lead to love. It was one of many kernels of wisdom Isabella had imparted to her. Skye very much wanted to make love to Hawkhurst, not only for the pleasure, but to force him to recognize the bond that already existed between them: a powerful, potent bond that made her body yearn at the same time it soothed her soul. She had never felt this sweet mixture of desire and comfort before—this delicious arousal warring with tender contentment.

Letting her eyes fall shut, Skye willed herself to relax. This was not the right moment, but when morning came, she would be prepared to take the next step.

Hawk remained awake for much longer. He should have known better than to stay the night with Skye, but the truth was, he could sleep peacefully with her beside him.

Or, he
should
have been more peaceful. At the moment it was pure torment, with his cock throbbing and ready to burst, his body aching to ease over hers and fill her with his flesh.

The bald reality was, Lady Skye Wilde fired his blood whether she was awake or sleeping. And having made love to her once made resisting her much, much harder. He wanted her more than any woman he could remember, including his late wife.

A disloyal thought, Hawk acknowledged. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to feel guilt, not when it had been so long since Elizabeth’s passing.

Moreover, his desire for Skye stemmed from more
than mere physical lust. He was actually startled by his enjoyment of their journey thus far.

Of course, it wasn’t surprising that this was the first time in months that he’d felt mentally challenged. Her quest to find her uncle’s lover had given him an intriguing problem to focus on. Worthy challenges were much less frequent now that the decades-long war with Napoléon was over; the Guardians were not needed nearly as much as in past years.

And Skye herself kept his wits sharp. He liked that about her, but her ability to always put him at ease unsettled him. Her tone was often warm and teasing, as if she’d known him intimately for years. Every time she used that provocative, affectionate tone, Hawk instinctively stiffened. Bantering—even flirting—was not his style.

The trouble was, he found her impossible to shut out. Since she’d appeared on his doorstep a mere nine days ago, she’d caused long-dormant emotions and desires to surge to life within him—almost as if he were actually living a normal existence again.

Her liveliness was a vivid contrast to his own bleakness, Hawk knew. That mischievous light dancing in her blue eyes was utterly delightful. And her smile … Each time she flashed that enchanting smile, something inside of him stirred, responding as naturally, as inevitably, as breathing.

She invited too much vulnerability, though. He needed to set strict limits on how close he would let her come. With her enticing power over him, she would constantly test his strength of will.

Intellectually, he understood her success: Lady Skye Wilde might be calculating and manipulative, but her
manner was so charming, she made a man
want
to succumb. She used flattery and praise and reason to bend males to her will effortlessly.

No doubt her many beaus were at a severe disadvantage. Most normal men wouldn’t stand a chance against her. Hawk, however, was not normal. In his decade as a Guardian, he’d faced down numerous murderers, traitors, and other villains. Surely he could avoid being conquered by a delicate-looking enchantress who was doing her best to get under his skin.

Hawk rolled over on his side, facing away from her, and shut his eyes, knowing it would be a long night. He would likely dream of Skye, although his erotic fantasies were better by far than the haunted, twisted dreams he’d had since returning to England.

For that reason alone, he was glad for his decision to share a bed with her again. The physical pain of unremitting arousal was a small price to pay for such welcome release from his memories.