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 un
less 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.
Skye had every intention of succeeding, however. She had made her choice. Hawkhurst was her future mate, she was sure of it. She had only to make him see it.
That, and win his heart.
Glancing at him now, she swallowed her misgivings. Despite the earl’s rakish behavior in his salad days, he had fallen in love and become a devoted husband and father. Skye devoutly hoped that if he had loved once, he could do so again.
But first she needed to help him put to rest his tragic past. From practically the first moment of meeting him, she had felt his overwhelming sadness, his loneliness, and she meant to put a stop to both. She was most haunted, however, by Hawkhurst’s guilt that he hadn’t perished with his family.
Skye pressed her lips together in determination. She would give him a new reason for living by making him fall in love with her.
A difficult task, yes, but not impossible.
She was a Wilde, after all.