Secrets of Seduction (18 page)

The tantalizing fantasy was the only thing that finally allowed him to sleep.

For the next
two days, Skye persisted in her efforts to persuade both Lady Farnwell and Lord Hawkhurst to embrace her goals, with precious little success.

She spent that time viewing Hawk in his element as they toured the countryside, inspecting broodmares and blooded stallions. He rode several prospects; thus she had another firsthand demonstration of his magical touch with horses. Skye’s frustration grew, however, at the failure of her romantic schemes. Not only did Hawk markedly ignore her attempts to deepen their intimacy, he seemed to relish acting contrarily just to see her reaction. Either that, or he was deliberately provoking her in order to take her mind off her worries.

To her dismay, Lady Farnwell had responded to none of her messages, even though the courier was instructed each time to await a reply. Yet whenever Skye grew overly earnest, Hawk found some way to lighten her mood, usually by teasing her much as she’d done to him, or ribbing her about acting cowardly and giving
up. His riling was reminiscent of her own family, where she had to hold her own with her provocative brother and cousins.

Their sparring generated some lively conversations, and Skye looked forward even more to their solitary evenings together playing chess or cards, where there were no grooms or stable masters or inn servants to interfere with her pursuit of Hawk. Otherwise, he was the same enigmatic, elusive “beast” she had known from the beginning of their relationship. He refused to answer a single question about his work with the Guardians and wouldn’t reveal an inkling about his life on the Isle of Cyrene, about which she was highly curious.

Once, Skye was exasperated enough to issue a warning: “You had best take care, my lord. I will ply you with brandy, then tie you up and force you to reveal your secrets.”

He laughed outright at her threat. “I should like to see you try.”

She liked his laughter, but there were still too few incidences of his lightheartedness to her mind.

The second afternoon, she was preparing to visit yet another stud farm with Hawk when “Mrs. Donnelly” was announced. Hope mingling with apprehension, Skye invited Lady Farnwell to join them in their private parlor. After ordering tea from the inn footman, she held her breath while awaiting the baroness’s decision.

Yet Rachel did not immediately state her intentions. “I have carefully considered your rationale in favor of my returning to England.”

“And?” Skye prompted.

“I don’t believe it would be wise.”

Skye wanted to retort that sometimes love was
not
wise but worth the risk. Although Rachel had escaped her abusive husband, she still badly needed healing; love—from both Daphne and Cornelius—could help her to heal.

Another argument Skye had championed in her missives was that life was too short to let the rare chance for happiness pass by. But rather than repeat her logic, she schooled herself to patience, hoping that in this case, heart would win out over mind. Rachel had not refused outright, which meant she was still debating.

She seemed most interested in how Lord Hawkhurst’s plan might work. “You said my past could be kept secret, my lord. Is that even possible?”

“It’s quite possible,” Hawk answered easily. “As I said, you can maintain your current identity as Mrs. Meg Donnelly. If you refrain from public appearances—specifically if you keep away from Edgar Farnwell’s district and don’t show your face in London—you should be safe from discovery. For the time being, you will be a guest at my country estate in East Sussex and need never be seen by anyone who formerly knew you. And we can concoct a reasonable story to explain any resemblance to the late Lady Farnwell.”

Still Rachel hesitated. “Can you imagine Baron Farnwell’s fury if he learns of my deception? The kind of retribution he might seek?”

Skye interjected. “Lord Hawkhurst is more than able to deal with Edgar Farnwell, if it comes to that. He will protect you—and Daphne as well, I have no doubt whatsoever.”

From the faint way his mouth curved, Hawk seemed amused that Skye was putting so much faith in his abilities,
given that her knowledge of his role in his league of Guardians was strictly hearsay. But his tone was quite serious when he replied. “I have engaged a colleague to investigate Farnwell, and tasked the Bow Street Runners with keeping a close eye on him, but a disguise might better ensure your anonymity.”

Skye studied Rachel objectively. The baroness had aged well enough that she still resembled the miniature. “What did you have in mind?”

“Perhaps she could cut her hair or dye it. Henna can notably transform appearance.”

Rachel bit her lip in indecision. “You said we might not tell Daphne of her parentage at first?”

Skye was able to address that concern. “I believe we first need to sound your daughter out about her feelings toward you and avoid shocking her with the stark truth just yet. My cousin Lady Katharine Wilde lives in London and would be ideal for approaching Daphne. We can trust Kate to make any revelations at the appropriate time.”

“What about … Lord Cornelius?” Rachel asked in a small voice.

“We need to prepare him also,” Skye said, “but I should like to handle that disclosure myself, since I am best acquainted with the particulars. I think it best to invite him to stay at Hawkhurst Castle for a time. My aunt, Lady Isabella Wilde, is residing there to aide Hawkhurst in renovating his home. And I will be there as well. So it should not prove too awkward or pose an impropriety if my uncle were to join us. If you were eventually to rekindle your romance, you could pretend to have met there for the first time and fallen in love.”

Rachel looked torn. “I don’t want the world to know we were once lovers. I want nothing to hurt Daphne.”

“I understand completely,” Skye said with empathy. “We will take small steps and see how it unfolds. But the choice is yours to make.”

The baroness closed her eyes and took a slow breath. “Very well.… I will accompany you to England.”

Skye refrained from cheering, not wanting to add to Rachel’s misgivings, but inwardly her elation soared at having overcome another important hurdle.

The next hour was spent planning their return journey and discussing details of their subterfuge. Even though Skye would likely continue thinking of her as Rachel or Lady Farnwell, they agreed it was best to address her as Mrs. Donnelly or Meg. By the next morning, Rachel had said a tearful farewell to the O’Briens, and they were on the road south to Wexford in Hawkhurst’s coach.

Rachel’s presence impacted Skye’s relationship with Hawk even more than she expected. Regrettably, their interactions were restricted to formalities, so she greatly missed their intimate banter. Yet her disappointment couldn’t be allowed to matter, since her primary task was supplying Rachel with support and companionship.

Skye had not anticipated, however, how difficult it would be for her to pretend indifference to Hawk now that her worst worries about Rachel were allayed. They couldn’t touch, and they certainly could not share a bedchamber.

The proscribed separation created an undeniable tension
between them. The first night in Wexford when Hawk made to retire alone to his own room, Skye could imagine following him, and a vision filled her mind of his magnificent body … of smooth, rippling muscles and sleek warm skin.

She was almost certain that Hawk felt the same tension. When his intent gray eyes fixed on her, she felt the impact like a caress, almost as if he had touched her. Her yearning was actually a physical ache, yet she knew she would have to live with the pain for the time being.

At least the journey went smoothly. The next morning, they weren’t required to wait long for the ferry. And the weather was fine enough that when they reached Bristol late that afternoon, they hired a fresh team for the carriage and set out across England, making it partway to their destination before stopping at a posting inn when it grew too dark. By then another autumn storm threatened.

Skye would have been gratified to know that Hawk was having similar difficulties adjusting to the enforced segregation. His sleeping hours were still visited by tantalizing dreams of Skye lying in his arms, sharing her incredible passion, and he woke each morning hungry for her. But that evening, with the rain lashing on his bedchamber windows, sleeplessness returned with a vengeance.

The storm eventually subsided and the night sky cleared of all but a few scudding clouds, but Hawk was still wide awake hours later when a quiet rap sounded on his door. When he opened it, he could recognize the shadowy figure in the faint moonlight coming
from the window at the end of the corridor. Skye stood there garbed in her traveling cloak, her pale hair falling around her shoulders in disarray.

One look at her face told him she had suffered another nightmare. Her eyes had that haunted look that couldn’t be feigned.

“Please … may I come in?” she pleaded in a hoarse whisper.

Silently he stepped aside and let her enter. When he shut the door softly behind her, she moved directly into his arms and buried her face against his nightshirt, seeking shelter from her fears. His arms closed around her instinctively, and when he felt her trembling, he couldn’t deny her comfort.

She remained there shivering for several minutes.

“I am sorry to wake you,” she finally rasped. “At home, it helps to keep my nightmares at bay with warm milk and a splash of brandy. But I have neither.”

“I have brandy.”

She shook her head and pressed closer, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. “I don’t need liquor as long as I have you. Bad dreams never trouble me when I am with you.”

It was the same with him. He could dream peacefully when she was with him. Suddenly, though, he registered that her cloak had parted enough to expose her attire beneath. Just like that he became keenly aware of the soft mounds of her breasts and the feminine warmth of her hips and thighs through the delicate fabric of her nightdress.

All thoughts of peace vanished for Hawk. He had intended only to hold her, but his feelings went from
sympathetic to sexual in the space of a heartbeat, and his loins swelled and hardened.

The sudden heat sparking between them was like dry kindling catching fire. Skye felt it, too, he knew, for she slowly raised her head to gaze up at him.

In the moonlight seeping beneath the window curtains, he could make out her lovely features. Her eyes looked like dark, fathomless pools, wide and lustrous.

“Please, Hawk … may I stay with you?”

When he hesitated, she swallowed and licked her dry lips. “Please. Do you realize … this could be our last night alone together? There may never be another chance once we reach your home.”

She was entirely serious, he realized. There was no teasing in her tone. No attempts to cajole or beguile him. There was only an honest solemnity that tugged at his heartstrings as well as his body.

Dropping his arms, Hawk pulled back, refusing to get lost in her eyes. Instead, he gazed up at the ceiling, striving for self-control.

But Skye went on in her quiet, imploring voice. “My family has always believed that we should make the most of our time on earth. I believe that also, Hawk. And we both know that life is too short and too precious to waste.”

It was an argument that resonated strongly with him. He knew better than anyone that life and happiness could be snatched away in the blink of an eye.

“What is so wrong with comforting each other?”

“You know very well. I could get you with child if you are not already.”

She pulled a small silk drawstring bag from the pocket of her cloak and held it up for him to see. “I
told you I know a way to prevent conception. These sponges are designed for just that purpose.”

Hawk felt himself frowning. “How did you come by those?”

“Aunt Isabella gave them to me.”

He shouldn’t be surprised, Hawk realized, torn between disbelief and amusement. He knew that Skye’s relationship with her aunt was astonishingly frank and open about carnal matters.

Reaching up, Skye parted the lapels of her cloak completely and let it fall to the floor. Then she swallowed, as if gathering courage, and began unfastening the small buttons at the front of her nightdress. Her slow fingers were a beguiling dance that riveted his gaze as she eased the collar over her shoulders, and then that garment fell away, too.

Hawk drew a sharp breath at the sight of her. It was his most erotic fantasy: Skye nude, standing before him in the flesh, offering herself to him without inhibition or restraint. Moonlight gleamed on her white skin … the ripe swells of her breasts, her narrow waist, her gently flaring hips, her sleek, slender legs, the golden curls that hid her heavenly sex.…

She started undressing him then, clearly set on distracting him from his resolve to resist her. Calling his last reserves of willpower, Hawk caught her wrists before she could remove his nightshirt.

“You had best leave.” His voice was harsh, strained.

“Best for whom? Not for me. And not for you, either, I suspect.”