When Hawk made no reply, Skye continued on doggedly. “Don’t you remember what I said then? I have horrible dreams about my parents’ deaths when they drowned at sea. It started when I was ten, when I was sent away to boarding school and had to leave everyone I held dear but for my cousin Katharine.” She had felt so bereft and lonely that she’d cried herself to sleep for weeks. “I cannot seem to conquer my nightmares—or at least I couldn’t until I met you. I promise they are no pretense—” Skye broke off abruptly. She was babbling again, so she closed her mouth to give Hawk a chance to speak.
“You have been manipulating me from the very first,” he charged.
“No, truly I have not. That would be impossible, even if I had wished to. You are not susceptible to manipulation.”
“But not for your lack of trying.”
“No,” she agreed. “But giving you my virginity … that was never part of my plan, I swear it.”
Skye held her breath, waiting for Hawk’s response. His grim silence worried her, but not as much as when he abruptly rolled away from her side and rose from the bed.
When he lit the bedside lamp, Skye winced as sudden brightness starkly illuminated his features. His expression was cold, dispassionate, but she could sense the heat of his anger.
Feeling too vulnerable, sprawled naked on his bed, she sat up awkwardly. When Hawk tossed her nightdress at her, she put it on without protest. Her breasts tingled, feeling exquisitely sensitive, while her core was tender and throbbing—a severe contrast to the sudden ominous chill in the air.
Hawk scooped up his own nightshirt from the floor and shrugged into it, his actions brusque. Skye bit her lip in dismay. This was hardly the scene she had dreamed of—an intimate lovers’ confession where they both laid their secrets bare, whispering sweet words of desire and love.
How quickly the mood had changed. Barely five minutes ago, she’d been cradled in Hawk’s arms, feeling his heated need, his hunger, the thirst in his kisses. Even in his intensity he’d been ruthlessly gentle, but now the unguarded tenderness on his face had disappeared and the mask he regularly wore had returned with a vengeance. There was nothing visible of the wonderful lover who had moved inside her with an eroticism that melted every bone and nerve in her body.
To her surprise, though, Hawk returned to the bedside and gestured for her to give him room to join her. When she complied, he arranged the pillows against the headboard, then leaned back so that he could watch her.
His smoky gaze held hers, never wavering. “You owe me an explanation.”
At least he was giving her a chance to present a defense.
Skye curled her legs under her, her heart pounding at the step she was about to take. Hawk might very well end all her hopes and dreams right then, but she owed him the full truth if they were ever to move past this conflict and deepen their relationship.
“You will probably think it foolish, but my cousin has a theory about legendary lovers.…”
Quickly she related Kate’s romantic premise about the Wildes finding their life mates based on classic romances throughout history and literature. “I thought my path to true love could follow the French fairy tale of Beauty and the Beast by Madame Le Prince de Beaumont. Have you read it?”
“I’m familiar with it, yes.”
“Well, in my case you are the ‘beast.’ There are a number of parallels between your circumstances and Madame de Beaumont’s story.”
She could tell she had surprised Hawk and so hastened to add, “I don’t literally believe in fairy tales, but I have always longed to find true love, so I thought my cousin’s premise enticing. Much more important, I have admired you from afar since I first saw you when I was a mere girl. And the more I learned about you from my aunt, the more my esteem for you rose. I came to Hawkhurst Castle to answer the question of whether or not we were suited, and I concluded that you might be my ideal mate.”
“Might” was too uncertain a word, Skye amended to herself. There was no doubt in her mind now that Hawk was her match.
Unfortunately, his silence this time held skepticism as well as mistrust.
“In my defense,” she went on gamely, “I never meant to seduce you that night, or even invite you to my bed. Making love to you was certainly not premeditated on my part.”
“What of the sponges? You clearly came prepared.”
“Well … I had hoped that someday … They were mainly a precaution, just in case we ever became intimate. I suppose you have a right to be angry at me for taking my plan too far.”
“Do I now?” he asked, his drawl edged with sarcasm. “Why should I be angry that you deceived and lied to me from the moment you arrived on my doorstep?”
“Perhaps I made several lies of omission,” Skye countered in a small voice, “but I have rarely lied to you outright. What else could I have done? How would you have reacted if I had declared my intentions at the outset? You know you would have barred me from your castle.”
“So you duped me into pursuing your uncle’s lover.”
“That was entirely an honest request. You were the perfect person to try to find her—which you did admirably, I must say. My faith in you was completely justified. I merely used my uncle’s plight as the way to make your initial acquaintance and then my reason for staying.”
When Hawk finally responded, some of the heat had gone out of his tone. “I am not your true love, wretch.”
Skye was surprised he addressed that issue first. “How can you be certain?”