When he glanced over his shoulder at her, he seemed rather surprised as well that she was capable of making up her own bed. He used a tinderbox to light the fire, and by the time she finished her task, flames had started to lick the logs.
He watched his handiwork for a moment, while Skye found herself watching him. Firelight poured over him, highlighting the sculpted bones of his face. Carved in simple planes, it contained a stark beauty that held no trace of prettiness but was striking all the same.
Feeling enchanted, Skye held her breath. The spell remained as he rose to his feet and brushed his hands against his breeches.
“Thank you, my lord,” she murmured, unconsciously moving toward him.
“Is there anything more you need tonight?” he asked.
I need you, was her unbidden thought. “No. You have done more than enough.”
Realizing her voice had instinctively turned husky, Skye cleared her throat and halted a few steps from him. “I am sincerely grateful.”
“Then I will leave you now.”
For a moment, however, he remained unmoving as he stared down at her. The dark fringe of his lashes defined eyes that had turned to silver—a look that was spellbinding.
In response, Skye went totally still. Butterflies had suddenly returned to riot her stomach—a nervous agitation that had nothing to do with anxiety about the storm or fear of bad dreams. Rather, it was intense sexual awareness.
Being alone with Lord Hawkhurst in the bedchamber, with the golden glow of firelight highlighting his masculine beauty, sent pinpricks of lightning rippling over her skin to penetrate deep inside her.
It was amazing what this man did to her, how easily his nearness made her forget all about her alien surroundings. She had been kissed before by ardent suitors, passionately and at great length. But not one of them had ever affected her the way a simple look from Hawkhurst did.
She was not a complete novice about carnal relations, either. She had learned enough from her aunt about the arts of seduction to know theoretically what happened between a man and a woman during lovemaking. And she was prepared for resistance from Lord Hawkhurst to even her simplest advances.
Yet she wasn’t at all prepared for his impact on her. He made her pulse race and her body burn. Sensual images flashed in her mind, begetting a myriad of emotions … pleasure, heat, anticipation.
Skye took another step closer, drawn toward him like a helpless moth to a beckoning flame.
When his gaze dropped to her mouth, her own lips parted but no sound emerged. She could picture herself kissing him, embracing him. She could envision sharing this bedchamber with him, this bed … how it would feel if they undressed each other and lay side by side … bare, warm skin touching.…
She thought he might be sharing the same fantasies, for his hand started to lift, as if he might reach up and touch her face. But, just as quickly, the moment ended.
The delectable images abruptly faded when Hawkhurst stepped back and crossed to the door without another word. Turning back to her briefly, he sketched her a slight bow and let himself out.
Skye exhaled slowly, mingled disappointment and relief rushing through her. In the span of one more heartbeat, she would have walked straight into his arms. And all her careful plans would likely have been shattered.
This would never do, she warned herself. She had to conquer her intense attraction for Hawkhurst, for one false move could get her instantly banished from his castle.
With a grimace of disgust at her lack of self-control, Skye spun around and marched toward her valise so she could change out of her still-damp gown and prepare for bed, quite alone.
Hawk shut his guest’s bedchamber door with unintended force. Tearing himself away from Lady Skye had been supremely difficult when she was looking at him with desire written all over her beautiful features. The huskiness of her voice, the soft yearning in her wide blue eyes, told him clearly that he could have her if he’d wished to.
Actually, he did wish to, rather urgently. She was pure temptation. It was absurd, how fiercely she aroused him. When he’d locked gazes with her, sheer lust had blazed through him. He’d forced himself to leave before acting on his primal urges.
Hawk swore another low oath to himself.
It was even more absurd how a delicate-looking beauty had put him on the defensive so effortlessly. He couldn’t believe her audacity, barging into his castle, making herself at home, wrangling an invitation to stay for the night, threatening to complain to her aunt about his ungentlemanly behavior. It was a low blow, using Bella as leverage.
And then she’d accused him of being a recluse and a grump. No one until Lady Skye had dared confront him on his moroseness. He hadn’t always had a taciturn nature, Hawk reflected grimly; it had only developed so over time.
However, his surliness tonight when she’d asked if he had any dry clothing for her to wear was because she’d touched a still-aching wound inside him.
Perhaps he could have un
earthed some of his late wife’s gowns, but that would have seemed like a betrayal of Elizabeth. Fortunately avoiding comparisons of the two women was fairly easy since they were not much alike in figure or appearance. Elizabeth had been more solidly built with dark hair and more vivid coloring.
Not pale and delicate and sensual like Lady Skye.