The rough sound that came from her throat was somewhere between a cough and a growl. “I don’t give a fig what I look like! What do you mean—you couldn’t bear to lose me?”
“Exactly that. I was terrified that I had recognized my love too late.” At her speechlessness, Hawk knew he had to declare himself more plainly. “The truth is that I love you, my darling, lovely Skye.”
Disbelieving her own ears, Skye stared at Hawk. So many emotions whirled through her—fear, anger, relief, despair, pain … not so much from her burns, which truly were minor, but from knowing she didn’t have the right to embrace him or even touch him. She had been prepared to break her heart to act nobly and give him up, but simply being this close again was a physical ache in her chest.
However, when Skye saw from Hawk’s expression that he was serious, shock flooded her.
Scarcely daring to hope, she pulled him out into the corridor, past several servants who were carrying buckets back to the kitchens. She waited anxiously until they were alone before getting to the crux of the matter.
“But what about the Guardians?” she demanded in a hoarse voice.
“I am free of any obligation to lead the league.”
“Free?”
“Yes. I found a replacement for Sir Gawain’s role as leader and persuaded him to approve.”
Skye scrutinized Hawk’s face intently, but all she could see was blatant honesty. His revelation was no cruel hoax, no dream. Ecstatic relief swamping her, she sagged against the wall and brought her bandaged hands up to cover her face.
“I thought I had lost you,” she said weakly, repeating his same words.
“You didn’t lose me. In fact, you can have me for life if you choose. Will you give me your hand in marriage, my precious Skye?”
She peered up at him. “You truly love me?”
“Truly.”
Raw emotion flooded her at the unguarded expression in his eyes. “Of course I will marry you. Gladly …”
Pushing away from the wall, Skye launched herself at Hawk and threw her arms around his neck, catching him off guard and sending him stumbling backward. Laughing in delight, she began pressing enthusiastic kisses over his mouth and face.
When he righted his balance, Hawk returned her ardor, capturing her lips in a totally satisfying manner. When he finally drew back, Skye felt dazed and joyous.
“I gather this means you love me also,” Hawk murmured.
“Certainly I love you. There has never been any question. I have been in love with you since I was thirteen years old.”
“I am supremely honored, sweetheart. However …” Reaching up, he unwound her arms. “We need to discuss wedding plans—in fact, I have a special license burning a hole in my coat pocket. But as loath as I am to postpone this delightful episode, I must deal with Farnwell first.”
Skye gave a small sigh of frustration but agreed that the baron took precedence. After his odious actions, he couldn’t go unpunished.
She willingly accompanied Hawk to the kitchens, where they found Farnwell sitting slumped on a bench in the servant’s dining room, staring at the floor, looking despondent and subdued.
“Pray excuse me a moment,” Hawk said to Skye.
Exhibiting a cool, calculated rage, he crossed the room in three strides, grabbed the baron by his coat lapels and hauled him upright, then whirled him around and let loose a punch to his stomach, then jaw.
In quick succession, Farnwell gave a yelp of fright and a grunt of pain, followed by a startled cry as he went flying. He landed heavily on his backside, where he curled into a ball and lay groaning with the wind knocked out of him.
To Skye’s mind, it was Hawk’s second wholly satisfying gesture in a matter of minutes.
“I warned you once, Farnwell,?
? Hawk ground out, flexing his fist as he moved to stand over the wheezing nobleman.
Still struggling to regain his breath, Farnwell started whimpering and covered his head with his arms, as if fearing another brutal blow.
Hawk gave a growl of disgust. “I should have done that the last time. Only a sniveling coward uses force against weaker beings. But since violence seems to be the only method of persuasion you understand, let me make myself clear. If I hear of you raising a hand to a woman again, I won’t just knock your teeth down your throat, you won’t live to see another dawn.”