Secrets of Seduction (17 page)

“Yes,” Rachel whispered. For the next few minutes, she haltingly confirmed her dire story … that she’d had a secret love affair before her engagement and that her husband, William, had become so abusive, she feared for her life.

“I promise you, I was never unfaithful to my marriage vows,” she said earnestly. “But William did not believe me, and for that I am to blame. Even though I ended my … romance … with Cornelius when I married, I foolishly continued to write him letters that I never sent, and William found them shortly after I gave birth to my daughter. He never learned the identity of the man I loved because I never addressed Cornelius by name. But William couldn’t bear the thought
that he had been cuckolded. He was much too prideful.”

Skye hesitated, wondering how to tactfully ask the most important question. “There is one thing I would dearly like to know,” she said gently. “Is your daughter my uncle’s child?”

Rachel swallowed. “Yes … but I never told Cornelius. He could never claim Daphne as his own, and I couldn’t bear to cause him the pain of knowing another man was raising his daughter.”

“Did your husband realize her lineage?”

“I don’t believe so. Or perhaps he didn’t wish to contemplate the possibility. You see …” An embarrassed flush rose to her face. “Peg helped me to hide the evidence that I was not … chaste when I came to the marriage bed.”

Skye supposed that the midwife would have known how to smear bloodstains on the nuptial sheets to fool a bridegroom. “I don’t believe my uncle ever suspected that Lady Daphne was his daughter.”

Looking remorseful and sad, Rachel glanced down at her clasped fingers. “My silence was for his own protection. Farnwell would have killed him had the truth become known. As it was … he nearly killed
me
.”

Rachel’s gaze grew distant in remembrance, and tears filled her eyes again. “Farnwell became so cruel.… He enjoyed seeing me suffer. I couldn’t bear it any longer. But leaving my baby daughter was the hardest thing I have ever d-done—”

Her voice broke, and Skye felt her heart go out to the woman who’d been forced to abandon her child in order to save her own life.

When she began weeping in earnest, Skye moved nearer in sympathy and slipped an arm around Rachel’s slender shoulders. “I am certain you did what you knew to be right. You had no other choice.”

She drew a gulp of air as she labored for control. “You are r-right.… I had no choice. While I still remained alive, I f-feared he would punish Daphne for my s-sins.”

After a time her sobs quieted, and she took Hawk’s proffered handkerchief to dry her eyes. “Please forgive my hysterics,” she begged in a rasping voice.

Skye felt a spurt of anger on her behalf. “It is not hysterical in the least to mourn the loss of your only child.”

Rachel nodded silently. Eventually she sniffed once or twice, then took a deep breath. “Daphne … tell me, how … how is she? I only remember her as a tiny babe.”

From her expression, she seemed pitifully eager to learn about her daughter, and Skye was happy to oblige. “Lady Daphne is a lovely, intelligent young woman now. She is something of a scholar—a talented artist and an expert on roses. Quite an achievement for one so young. She is barely my age.”

Rachel’s response was a watery smile. “I always loved roses … my garden was my one solace during those terrible times. But tell me … she never married? She is a spinster?”

Skye hesitated to brand Lady Daphne with the spinster label. “She is still unattached, I believe, but I don’t know her reasons.”

“I imagine she would not wish to follow my example
and marry without love,” Rachel muttered in a stronger tone.

Then she abruptly changed the subject, seeming eager to learn about her former lover also. “Tell me … How fares Lord Cornelius?”

“He is well enough, I suppose,” Skye answered. “Or to be more specific, his health is good. But his spirits … not so much. After your tragic death, he turned to his books for comfort and became quite the literary scholar. He never married, but it was only when I found your letters hidden away in his library that I understood why.”

“I never thought he wouldn’t marry and have a family.”

“You were the love of his life,” Skye said simply. “When you harbor a love that deep, it is difficult to move on. Uncle Cornelius kept all your letters. He even kept a dead rose pressed among them, in remembrance of you, I imagine.” From her reticule, Skye pulled out the box of letters.

Rachel’s mouth trembled as she opened it and unwrapped the scrap of muslin on top. The red rose, now brittle and faded with age, had a delicate blue ribbon tied around the stem.

“This was from the last time we met … a pledge of my love.”

She put her hand to her mouth to stifle another sob. “I could never have married him, though. My parents insisted that I accept the wealthy baron instead.”

Hawk spoke for the first time in several minutes. “Did you know that Farnwell died eight years ago?”

“Yes.… Bridget has corresponded with some of her family in England over the years. We heard about
my husband from time to time. His son from his second marriage inherited the title.”

“But you have never thought about returning to England?”

“Oh, I have thought about it … every day of my life. But I have never dared. The temptation to see my daughter would have been too great. It would have been unforgivably selfish of me even to try to contact Daphne. No good could come of it. She has her own life to live.”

Skye was not thinking only of Daphne, however. “Do you still have feelings for my uncle?”

“Yes,” Rachel admitted hoarsely. “I love him dearly still. As you said, love like that does not die easily, not with time or distance or even death.”

“Then would you consider returning with us to England? I know Uncle Cornelius would be overjoyed to see you.”

Rachel shook her head slowly, despairingly. “I … am sorry but I cannot. I fear for Daphne if my secret ever came out.”

“There is no reason for your secret to come out unless you wish it to,” Hawk told her. “I believe we can conceal your past identity from society, particularly if you continue to use your assumed name.”

“Yes,” Skye pressed. “I think it is time for you to come home. You have suffered more than enough.” When Rachel hesitated, Skye added, “This is your chance to see your daughter again.”

The pain on her face was evidence enough. “It is, and I would like nothing more than to gaze upon her face and hold her in my embrace. But the ramifications … Just think of the harm the truth could
cause her. The man she always thought was her father was not really her flesh and blood after all.”

“I agree that any revelations will have to be handled delicately and that we should not rush to tell Daphne of her parentage. Perhaps you might never choose to divulge the truth about her birth. But we will help you negotiate the dangers every way we can.”

Apparently Rachel was not convinced. “But William’s son—the present Baron Farnwell. He is said to be much like his father.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I have lived in fear for so long. William was in London at the time of my supposed drowning, and I know he was relieved to be rid of me, but I always feared he would find me.”

“You needn’t be afraid any longer,” Skye declared softly. “I have every faith that Lord Hawkhurst will ensure your safety, and your daughter’s as well.”

“I cannot risk it.”

“I believe Daphne would want to know her mother, don’t you?”

When Rachel looked anguished, Skye softened her offensive even more. “Will you at least consider our proposal, Mrs. Donnelly?”

Bridget O’Brien brought in the tea tray just then, so Rachel never replied.

Accepting that Rachel needed time to digest all their revelations, Skye purposely changed the conversation to lighter matters, telling the baroness about the Wilde family—how Lord Cornelius had taken over the raising of five orphaned cousins when their parents had perished at sea, with often humorous results, since he had little experience with children.

A short while later, Skye met Hawk’s eye, silently
asking if they should end their call. When he gave a brief nod, she rose to her feet and purposely called Rachel by her assumed name. “We will leave you now, Mrs. Donnelly, but may we return tomorrow?”

“I … would rather you did not. I need time to think.”

“Yes, of course.”

“I will let you know my decision soon, Lady Skye. I hope you can understand. I believed that part of my life was over. After all these years, I … I don’t know that I want to resurrect it again, even if I could.”

Disappointment filled Skye, but she strove hard not to show it. “Of course we will respect your privacy. We are staying at the Fox and Hound in Castlecomer, should you wish to contact us. I will leave these letters for you to read.…” Skye indicated the box. She did not want to give up her uncle’s treasured correspondence, but perhaps they would help Rachel remember the tender feelings she’d once borne for him.

They left her sitting in the parlor while Bridget showed them out. On the return drive to Castlecomer, Skye was unusually quiet—a state that Hawkhurst apparently noticed.

“I thought you would be more pleased at finding Lady Farnwell.”

Skye hastened to reassure him. “I am pleased. Truly, I am ecstatic. But I worry that she will never return home where she belongs. Her fortitude is remarkable, but she will always put her daughter’s welfare above her own, which means Uncle Cornelius may never have a chance to rekindle the love they once shared.”

She shook off her solemnity. “Thank you for finding her, Hawk. Your talents are remarkable.”

“I was not fishing for compliments,” he responded, evidently suspecting her of trying to butter him up again.

“I am only giving praise where it is due. I could never have done this on my own.”

“Macky deserves the credit.”

“But it was your keen questioning that led us here.”

But locating Lady Farnwell was only the first step. Realizing how far they had yet to go, Skye exhaled a sigh. “I did not expect her to be so adamantly set against returning with us.”

“I have every faith that you will succeed in convincing her. Your powers of persuasion are first-rate.”

Now he was trying to bolster
her
spirits. “But it may take quite some time. You cannot remain here in Ireland for very long.”

“I can spare another week or so.”

Skye searched his face in surprise. “You would do that for her?”

Hawk gave her a wry look. “I would do it for you, sweet wretch. We came here for a purpose, and I dislike leaving a mission unfinished. While we wait, I can resort to my original excuse for coming to Ireland—searching for brood stock.”

“I thought that was a ruse.”

“It was, but I am not letting you give up so soon.”

Skye pressed her lips together in new resolve. “Oh, I am not giving up. As soon as we reach the inn, I will send Lady Farnwell a note. There are many more arguments I can make for our case. And I will keep sending her messages each day until she sees the merits of our plan. I agreed I would not visit her, but I never said I would not write.”

Her vow brought a glimmer of amusement to Hawk’s eyes, but Skye would not apologize for her zeal in saving her uncle from a continued loveless, lonely existence. “Even if it takes an entire year, I am not leaving here empty-handed. Still … the decision must be hers. Happiness can yet come out of her tragic past, but she will have to reach out and seize it.”

Hearing the fervor in her declaration, Skye realized she ought to heed her own advice. If she was ever to realize her dream of finding true love with Hawk, she had to take advantage of their journey together and not let her chance slip through her fingers.

When they returned to the inn, she immediately began composing her first missive to Lady Farnwell. Hawk spent the afternoon reviewing his list of stud farms in Kilkenny and the neighboring counties, then wrote to two of them, stating his intentions to call the next day, and sent a messenger off.

“May I come with you tomorrow?” Skye requested as a way to keep up her own spirits and not dwell on what she hoped was only a temporary setback with Lady Farnwell. Hawk agreed without apparent reluctance.

However, when it came time to retire and Skye asked if she could spend the night with him, he refused in no uncertain terms, even when she reminded him that they could relieve each other’s carnal pain.

Her tone was lighthearted, but for an instant as she met his suddenly smoke-dark eyes, she glimpsed the smoldering passion he was striving to repress.

His sense of honor won out, though, and he resisted her entreaties when he escorted her to her room, even
when she turned to gaze up at him with her most imploring expression.

In fact, judging from his ironic smile, Hawk enjoyed thwarting her designs as he gently pushed her inside and shut the door in her face.

As Skye stared at the wood panel, she bit back a mild oath, then sighed heavily. She supposed it was admirable that Hawk was putting her reputation and welfare first, but it frustrated her keenly that he refused to cooperate in his seduction.

The man had the self-control of a monk, and she had no idea how to break it.

Hawk was not nearly as sanguine as he appeared, yet he repaired to his own bedchamber quite alone, resolved to be ruthless with himself in fighting his powerful attraction for Skye.

She was temptation incarnate. His hands hungered for her—bloody hell, his entire body hungered for her. Her alluring invitation was nearly impossible to withstand, especially when she was promising him another blazing night of passion.

It was only in the darkest hours of the night—when sleep completely eluded him—that Hawk let himself give in to temptation, remembering the memory of her flesh pliant against his fingers and mouth, and the reverse: Skye kissing his hard male flesh with her soft lips, teasing him to painful arousal, the silk-bright curtain of her hair draped over his loins.…

Then she moved upward to take his mouth with hers. Feeling a warmth so rich he could taste it, he eased her onto her back and settled between her thighs, wanting to impale her till he drowned in her. Curbing his urgency
with effort, he slowly thrust inside her, feeling her moist flesh close around him tightly, feeling her surround him. The pleasure began, her perfect breasts rising to mold against his chest, her hips arching to meet his.…