Secrets of Seduction (13 page)

The night before his scheduled departure, he was awakened in the wee hours by a creaking sound outside his bedchamber door. Wondering if perhaps Skye had suffered a recurring nightmare, Hawk went to his door and opened it wide enough to see her tiptoeing down the hall, carrying a partially covered lamp.

“I am returning to my rooms,” she murmured in
explanation when she spied him. “I couldn’t sleep so I went downstairs for a glass of warm milk.”

In the dim light, he could just make out her attire. “Then why are you wearing your traveling cloak?”

His suspicious tone didn’t seem to faze her. “I have no proper dressing gown with me.”

Hawk remembered deciding not to loan her any of his late wife’s garments. He could have offered her one of his own dressing gowns, but picturing Skye in his clothing would only have led to unwanted fantasies about removing it.

When she said a pleasant good night, he made no response. With a frown on his face, Hawk watched her slip inside her room, then returned to his own bed. He rose early, but she must have slept in. He was conscious of a faint, nagging disappointment that Skye was not at breakfast in order to wish him farewell.

When he arrived in the stable yard where his coach and team awaited him, his footman opened the carriage door and stood back. Hawk was halfway inside when he realized the vehicle was already occupied. Lady Skye sat in the far corner, dressed in her traveling gown and cloak. Evidently she had snuck into his coach while he was breakfasting, or perhaps even earlier.

He settled slowly on the seat and shook his head in admiring disbelief. “This was the reason for your midnight endeavor, wasn’t it? You weren’t after warm milk to help you sleep.”

“Oh, but I was,” Skye avowed. “I needed a good excuse in case you caught me roaming the corridors. I put my valise in the boot last night and hid myself here this morning, since I didn’t want you to see me and provoke an argument in front of the servants.”

“Why ever would we argue?” he drawled sardonically.

“Because you will no doubt object to my intentions. I am coming with you to Ireland,” she announced serenely.

“No, you are not.”

“If you wish to stop me, you will have to throw me bodily out of your carriage.”

“Don’t think I won’t.”

“If you do, I will only follow you in my own carriage. And I see no point in doubling the expense of searching for my uncle’s true love.”

“You cannot travel all that distance with me. My inquiries could take a fortnight or more.”

Lady Skye had an answer for that also. “I am not concerned about scandal, remember? To conceal my identity, I will wear a veil in public and pose as your widowed cousin, at least while we are in England. See”—she held up a black bonnet with a swath of black netting—“Mrs. Yeats loaned this to me. It should be adequate to prevent me from being recognized by anyone who happens to know me.”

Hawk felt an urge to grind his teeth. “Your brother will be angry.”

“My brother has no say in this matter,” Skye assured him. “I can manage my own life. Moreover, Quinn will be mollified if we succeed. He loves our uncle and wants his happiness almost as much as I do.”

Her expression grew earnest as she leaned closer to Hawk. “Please, my lord.… Fate played a horrible trick on my uncle, but now I have a chance to set it right. I would never forgive myself if I let it pass by without trying to help.”

“You have already done more than enough.”

“No, I have barely begun.”

Hawk eyed her with a baleful look, half-exasperated and wholly vexed. He believed Lady Skye when she threatened to follow him. He couldn’t let her go haring off to Ireland alone. If nothing else, he would have to protect her from herself.

With a disgruntled sigh, he rapped on the coach roof, giving his coachman the order to start his team. This was not surrender, Hawk told himself. He merely wanted to accomplish his task quickly so he could be rid of Skye and temptation.

“Do you always get your way?” he grumbled when the carriage was moving.

She flashed him a brilliant smile and laughed softly. “Almost always,” she replied without even a pretense of humility.

His lips twitched. “You are an aggravating, conniving little wretch, do you know?”

“Yes, I know, but I will grow on you over time.”

Hawk gave a snort. “I doubt that.”

He wouldn’t give her the opportunity to grow on him, he promised himself, but for now it appeared he was stuck with her.

Determined to ignore her as much as possible, Hawk stretched his long legs out on the opposite seat and leaned back against the leather squabs. Then he crossed his arms and shut his eyes, prepared to get some of the sleep that had eluded him the previous night because of his erotic dreams and pretend he wasn’t acutely aware of the charming beauty who sat there on the seat beside him, smiling so sweetly and smugly.

Skye was vastly
relieved that Hawkhurst had agreed to let her accompany him, albeit under duress. Yet he was distancing himself from her, she could tell. When he woke from his slumber, he unbent only enough to tell her the route they would take.

They were now heading for the seaport of Bristol, where they would likely have to wait for a passenger ship to ferry them to Wexford Harbor in Ireland. From there they would travel northwest to Kilkenny, the closest county to England that matched the details Mrs. Nibbs remembered. Hawkhurst had made this exact journey several times in the past, in search of champion bloodstock for his racing stables.

Otherwise, he withdrew from conversation the first day, hiding any emotion in his eyes behind that dark fringe of lashes. Skye resolved to bide her time, but it was difficult in the close confines of his coach. Her physical awareness of him grew with each mile they traveled. Sitting so near to him, she could feel the warmth of his
splendid body and smell the now-familiar scent of his skin mixed with the freshness of soap.

When they reached Bristol late that evening, they took separate rooms at an inn but ate supper together in a private parlor. Over the meal, he made one more effort to dissuade her. “I will happily hire a carriage to convey you home in the morning.”

Skye shook her head. “You will not change my mind, my lord.”

The stakes were too high, she added silently, both for her uncle and for herself. This was her best and perhaps sole chance to win Hawkhurst as her heart-mate, and she wasn’t giving up.

He continued pressing her, however. “Bella is scheduled to arrive at my estate tomorrow. She will worry when you are not there to receive her.”

“I left her a note of explanation. She will not only understand, she would encourage me to accompany you. Besides, I might actually be able to help you find Lady Farnwell. Two heads are often better than one.”

“I already have two heads with Macky. Three, counting Linch.”

“It is not the same thing. You obviously haven’t considered Lady Farnwell’s perspective. If a number of strange men come hunting for her after all these years, she may take fright. As a woman, I will stand a better chance of soothing her fears. Especially since I am related to her former lover.”

Hawkhurst gave her credit for the point but said he would be able to manage Lady Farnwell on his own. “Furthermore, I have no desire to be burdened with a meddlesome pest the entire journey.”

Skye smiled up at him. “Instead of chiding me for
meddling, you should be thanking me for providing you a reason to leave home.”

His mouth curled. “You are all consideration.”

“Indeed, I am. It is not healthy to dwell on your sorrows. I can provide you a distraction and keep you company.”

“I have no desire for either.”

When she offered to play chess—or cards, if he preferred—to break up the monotony of their travels, he agreed to chess but didn’t seem to appreciate the teasing note in her voice when she added, “If I win, you must tell me more about the Guardians.”

Hawkhurst responded with more than a hint of exasperation. “You will learn nothing more about them from me.”

“Why is it so imperative that your league remains a secret?”

“If I tell you why, it won’t be a secret anymore, will it?”

Other than their chess matches and meals, however, Hawkhurst spent as little time as possible with her. Two mornings later, they boarded a ferry, along with the earl’s carriage and servants. As they sailed out of the mouth of the Severn, heading for the Irish Sea, Skye stood at the prow of the ship beside Hawkhurst, unable to contain her excitement, despite a chill wind and rough seas.

“I have never been to Ireland before. In fact, I have seldom left England, although I accompanied my family across France this past summer to support Jack when he visited his father’s principality of Navartania, so this will be an exciting adventure for me. The Wildes
are known for their audacious exploits, but I never am allowed to enjoy any.”

Judging from Hawkhurst’s skeptical glance, he didn’t appear to believe her. “What do you call camping on my doorstep in a thunderstorm?”

“That was unnerving, not exciting. And I am speaking in generalities. My brother is overly protective of me and firmly resolved to keep me out of danger.”

“Can you fault him for that?”

“I suppose not. But it is hardly fair. Quinn is the daredevil in our family and is even an intimate of Lord Byron. He risks his own skin far too frequently to my mind, and his cavalier attitude toward his own safety is our greatest source of disagreement. After losing our parents, I couldn’t bear to lose Quinn also. And he feels similarly about me. But my gender is a significant additional disadvantage.”

She glanced up at Hawkhurst. “You have traveled the world, so you wouldn’t understand how liberating this journey to Ireland is for me. You have never had to bow to the dictates of society, either. It is enormously frustrating, being hemmed in by the strictures governing women—especially unmarried young women.”

To underscore her complaint, Skye raised the face veil she had worn in public since leaving his estate in East Sussex. She had always wanted to do more, to
be
more than genteel young ladies were permitted to be. But this was actually the first time she had ever struck out on her own in a major way, without her family close by. Even when she’d gone away to boarding school as a girl, her cousin Katharine had been with her. Kate was privy to her current plan to romance Lord Hawkhurst, but wouldn’t interfere unless Skye specifically
asked for help. She didn’t intend to tell Quinn at all, for he would likely drag her home.

“Please, allow me to enjoy this moment, Lord Hawkhurst,” she entreated in a low voice.

He held her gaze for a long moment, studying her as if judging her sincerity. Then surprisingly, he relented. Rather than retire belowdecks, he summoned one of the crew to fetch her a blanket, then wrapped her in it to keep her warm and stood beside her, answering her questions about Ireland and relating interesting facts about his travels there.

As the ship crossed St. George’s Channel, the vivid green land mass grew till it resembled a jewel rising from the water.

“How striking,” Skye murmured. “I can see why Ireland is called the Emerald Isle.”

Later, as they grew closer, Hawkhurst pointed out various features along the coast, which led to a discussion about horses.

“You seem to know Ireland well,” Skye observed. “You said you come here often to purchase bloodstock?”

“Every few years. Some of the best stock comes from Ireland.”

“Have you always bred horses?”

A dark cloud momentarily claimed his features. “Not until I moved to Cyrene. I began breeding as a diversion but continued in earnest when I had success crossing Berbers and Arabians with Irish and English Thoroughbreds.”

“Why would you want to mix breeds?”

“To leaven stamina and endurance with speed and grace.”

“And you sell the horses you raise?”

“Most of them. Not for the income as much as the satisfaction of creating spectacular results.”

“But you train them as well, do you not?”

“Sometimes. That
is
purely for the satisfaction.” His warm tone seemed to verify his statement.

“I think I can understand why,” Skye observed. “Horses are magnificent creatures, and you clearly have a magical touch with them, judging by the stallion you rode the other day. How do you ever manage to gentle a horse like that so easily?”

“I start by letting him know my voice and scent and touch to persuade him to trust me.”

That was precisely what she was trying to do with Hawkhurst, Skye thought. Not that she could allow him to know her strategy. She would drive him away if she let on how badly she wanted him. That was one of her Aunt Isabella’s prime rules in the game of love:
A lady should never appear to chase a gentleman. She must contrive to let him pursue her instead
.

Skye had quizzed her aunt in great detail about how to approach Hawkhurst.
You must be his friend and confidant, simply be there for him when he needs comforting
, Isabella had warned her.

Easier said than done, Skye had quickly discovered, given the way he closed himself off from the world. Except for that one night of drunken revelations, he was clearly an intensely private man who’d finely honed the art of protecting his secrets. He was maddeningly remote and elusive. Undoubtedly numerous other women had attempted futilely to overcome that elusiveness.