Secrets of Seduction (27 page)

Still gasping herself, Skye clung to him. She wanted this moment to last forever and for this man to love her. Her heart had craved him her whole life, and she never wanted him to leave.

To her immense gratification, he remained still for a long time afterward.… And yet reality intruded all too soon, along with common sense. Her cries of ecstasy could have gotten them in big trouble, Skye realized, not withstanding that her position was rather awkward and uncomfortable, being pinned against the door by his powerful body.

Skye gave a muffled, breathless laugh into his shoulder. “You said we needed to be quiet. I would say we failed miserably.”

When Hawk weakly pulled away from her, his heavy lashes lifted enough to look into her eyes. When she smiled teasingly at him, he smiled in return.

His response lifted her heart, as did the unexpected softness in his eyes. Skye felt herself go still with the impact of his gaze. He had just ravished her thoroughly, but she still felt lightning sparks when he merely looked at her.

He didn’t seem aware of how much he captivated her, though—which perhaps was a blessing. With care, he withdrew from her body, holding her until her feet found the floor, then steadying her as she tried to stand on shaken, uncertain legs.

“I suppose we ought to go below,” she said with reluctance. “By now the others will likely be gathered in the drawing room for tea and will be expecting us.”

Hawk grimaced, clearly not eager to comply, although he nodded in agreement.

Just then Skye felt the wet gush of his seed down the inside of her thighs. “On second thought, I cannot take tea like this,” she amended. “I had best return to my bedchamber and clean myself.”

“I will wait a few moments before following you.”

“That is wise. We shouldn’t go down together. One look at us and everyone will know what we have done.”

She started to move but then decided against it. “I think I need a handkerchief.”

She fumbled in her apron pocket for one, but Hawk took it from her. “Allow me.”

Reaching beneath her skirts, he deliberately stroked her still sensitive flesh with the delicate cloth. His attentions were highly erotic and sensual, making heat race down her spine again and spread through her, before wedging the handkerchief between her thighs.

“Are you punishing me for teasing you?”

“However did you guess?”

“Like I said, you are a devil,” she murmured with another laugh.

Passion still throbbed between them, but she forced herself to retrieve the key from her pocket and unlock
the door. Then giving Hawk one last lingering kiss, she slipped from the room.

When she was gone, Hawk used his own handkerchief to dry his loins and then rearranged his clothing, but his mind was on Skye rather than his task. Her scent lingered, filling his senses, but it was her last image that filled his mind. She had been laughing at him with her eyes, a sparkling, tender kind of laughter that was innocent and full of deviltry at the same time.

He found himself grateful for her light touch. She’d provided just the distraction he needed after finding that bronzed figure of a horse, a gift to Lucas on his first birthday. The memory was churning in his gut when Skye pulled him out of his study, his chest aching with grief and guilt and anger at fate.

The ache had slowly settled as he climbed the tower stairs with her, but her seduction was not at all what he’d expected—dragging him up here to have her way with him, literally daring him to make love to her.

Then again, she was constantly surprising him. At her offer, lust and need and want had hit him with brutal force. And faced with the chance to lose himself in the sweetness of her body, he’d had only one choice.

In truth, she’d never given him much choice in their entire relationship, Hawk acknowledged. She kept reaching through his defenses, even when he’d fought her.

Hawk glanced around the tower. In every room, there were haunting shadows that Skye was systematically vanquishing. The dark dreams that plagued his sleep were less frequent as well, and he no longer craved solitude. During her recent journey to London, he’d realized
how cold and empty his house had felt without her lively presence … which raised a question. What would he do without her when she left for good? When he courted and wed Sir Gawain’s niece and brought her home to his bed?

A frown claimed Hawk’s mouth. He didn’t like contemplating the answers. On the other hand, he could easily become accustomed to having Skye in his bed, in his life, always.…

He froze as a jolting thought occurred to him: He wanted Skye as his bride.

After a startled moment, Hawk tested the theory in his mind by picturing her recent look, remembering the warmth that filled him as he’d gazed into her laughing eyes. He felt a peculiar lightness in his chest when he could swear he wasn’t capable of any light feelings at all. He was able to recognize the sensation as affection—

And perhaps something stronger?

It was too soon to tell, Hawk decided. But his insistence that Skye meant nothing to him was laughable, really. And his plan to resist her had failed dramatically.

He’d intended to show her that he no longer had a heart to give her, that tragedy had destroyed that particular organ. But like the seemingly dead rosebushes in his garden, he was beginning to think his heart might not be completely dead after all, just lying dormant.

And if there was life there beneath all the dead undergrowth, he might conceivably be able to love again.

Hawk shook his head in disbelief. Never in his wildest dreams had he believed he would come to that point. But for the first time in a decade he wondered if it might be possible.

At the thought, he waited for the expected guilt to
strike him.
How can you open yourself to happiness with another woman when Elizabeth is gone?

Yet ten years was a very long time to mourn his late wife. Skye was right when she’d said Elizabeth wouldn’t want him to die with her. And living half a life would not bring her back. Moreover, he was beginning to question whether he should let the fear of losing his loved ones keep him mired in emptiness forever.

So what if you were to give yourself permission to love again?

It was then that Hawk recalled his obligations once more. By now he should have been well along in courting Sir Gawain’s niece, a plan he’d delayed in order to aide Skye’s quixotic romantic cause with her uncle.

Hawk’s jaw tightened. He couldn’t put off his courtship much longer. Not when wedding Miss Olwen was the only way he could lead the Guardians.

No, your future is settled
.

Unless …

Unless you elect against a marriage of convenience
.

The notion held more appeal than it should have.

Trying to change his fate, however, would present a profound dilemma. He would be pitting honor and obligation against desire, professional fulfillment against personal happiness, loyalty to Sir Gawain against his own private longings.

But perhaps the choice was not so difficult after all, Hawk conceded. He might regret opening his heart further and letting Skye in, but he would likely regret more not pursuing the possibility of a future with her.

Once the notion
to wed Skye took root in Hawk’s mind, he couldn’t shake it. He had never desired Miss Olwen for his bride, and by postponing his courtship these past few weeks, he knew he’d been seeking an escape from an unsuitable match. Yet only now did he acknowledge that their union might be an actual mistake.

Convincing a shy young lady more than a dozen years his junior to serve as a broodmare so he could sire an heir of Guardian lineage was the height of calculating cynicism, despite the virtue of his motives.

The more Hawk considered his course, the stronger his temptation became to devise a way out of his obligations. He would have to withdraw his candidacy for the league’s leadership, but the thought of heading the Guardians was not as fulfilling as it once was. Regardless, before contemplating such a drastic step, he needed to speak with Sir Gawain directly.

The baronet’s latest communiqué had declared Sir Gawain’s intentions of arriving in London the past
week. Without a doubt, he would be keenly disappointed if Hawk suddenly made a drastic about-face in his nuptial plans—and disappointing his friend and mentor weighed heavily on Hawk’s conscience. But he needed to at least broach the possibility. Thus, Hawk wrote to the baronet and requested an interview in London for the following afternoon.

Instead of sending a written reply, however, Sir Gawain appeared in person late the next morning—unsurprising, since resolving the issue of leadership after his impending retirement was understandably his chief priority just now.

Upon gaining entrance to the castle, Sir Gawain was shown into Hawk’s study at once. By odd coincidence, the elderly baronet somewhat resembled Lord Cornelius. Both were tall, lean, elegant gentlemen with silver hair. But Sir Gawain’s features were lined with worry and fatigue—the consequence of three decades of commanding the Guardians—and his penetrating, pale blue eyes were always gravely serious. He was also fifteen years older than Cornelius and walked with a slight limp, the result of a still-painful injury incurred during a mission long ago.

After issuing warm greetings and settling on a couch, Sir Gawain adopted a pensive frown. He listened intently as Hawk explained his reservations, but looked dismayed as he responded.

“I feared you might be wavering when my great-niece heard no word from you since your arrival in England, Hawk. May I remind you of the stakes? The very future of our league is in jeopardy.”

“I need no reminder, sir.”

The chivalric order had been formed more than a
thousand years before by a handful of Britain’s most legendary warriors—outcasts who had sought exile on the Mediterranean island of Cyrene—with the purpose of performing valiant deeds, righting wrongs, and protecting the weak and vulnerable. Only within the past half century had the long wars with France necessitated the expansion of their reach. Currently the Guardians operated chiefly in Europe as a secret arm of the Foreign Office. There were a dozen or so members living on Cyrene, fifty others scattered across Europe and England, and even several Americans.

“I am fully aware the league cannot be left rudderless,” Hawk replied, “but there are others who could serve in my place.”

“But none who are willing to wed in order to secure the succession and fulfill the terms of our charter, as you are, Hawk.”

That was the rub, Hawk knew. The charter required leadership to be passed down through the descendent families of the original knights, to which Miss Olwen belonged. Nominally, she would be the acting head of the Guardians and Hawk would lead on her behalf. And if he sired sons or daughters, he would lead in his children’s name.

The thought of siring another son was brutally painful, unless it was with Skye, Hawk had decided. But that was not a subject he wished to discuss with his mentor.

“Moreover,” Sir Gawain continued in a pleading tone, “few leaders would be as effective as you, Hawk. You are able to inspire loyalty and devotion. You well know that quality is invaluable.”

The league’s agents usually had specialties. Hawk’s
prime skill was gathering intelligence, but his most valuable asset was his ability to lead men.

“Your services are
needed
, Hawk. As my successor you will do a vast deal of good. Saving lives and meting out justice are supremely worthy causes.”

“I agree.” His original desire to assume the reins from Sir Gawain had never been a lust for power, but a conviction that he could make a difference. Additionally, Hawk felt an ardent personal obligation to the baronet. “But our work is not as crucial now that Boney has been defeated.”

“It is still critical, however. And we cannot afford to be without a strong leader.”

Sir Gawain was right, certainly. And Hawk couldn’t—wouldn’t—leave the Guardians without a leader. But perhaps the criteria for leadership could be revised.…

“What if we could amend the charter to reflect how greatly our circumstances have changed over the years? What would that require? A vote of the entire membership?”

The baronet frowned thoughtfully. “I fail to see how an amendment is possible. And even if it were, you are best prepared to shoulder the mantle of leadership.” His expression turned imploring. “You and I are different from normal men, Hawk. You have never flinched from making sacrifices. What has caused this hesitancy now? For the past year or more, you have wholly supported my plan for the succession.”

I returned home to terrible memories
, he thought. Aloud, he said, “The closer I came to making a marriage of convenience with your great-niece, the more I disliked using her as a pawn.”

“Amelia is a dutiful girl who accepts her historic obligations. There will be no objection from her or her family.”

At Hawk’s hesitation, Sir Gawain went on pressing his case, his tone revealing his growing anxiety. “It is only natural for you to have second thoughts about entering into another marriage, Hawk, but I am certain you see this opportunity as your duty.”