Lover Be Mine (Legendary Lovers 2)

“Do I have a choice? You are arguing that her lack of fortune puts her at a disadvantage and excuses her timidity.”

Skye huffed in exasperation. “No, I am arguing that she deserves better than to be sold into a loveless marriage. She will be miserable.”

“Her happiness is not my responsibility.”

“Of course not. But your happiness is our responsibility. We are your family. We love you and we want you to be happy.”

“I am happy.”

Skye raised an eyebrow. “Somehow I doubt it. You spend all your time drinking and carousing and wenching and racing.”

Jack shot her an amused glance over his half-empty mug of ale. “What would you know about wenching?”

“I am three-and-twenty and not nearly as innocent as I look. And I am positive your carefree bachelor life will not be fulfilling forever.”

Jack took another long pull of ale. The Wilde cousins were an unruly bunch. Ash was their fearless leader, while Quinn was the brilliant adventurer. Spitfire Kate was the romantic of the family, and Skye the sweet but mischievous darling.

Jack, however, had always been the chief hell-raiser among them, notorious for his escapades. Often during those dark months of mourning their parents, he’d purposely played the fun-loving rascal—because he saw it as his duty to enliven his kin’s lives and provide levity and diversion to ease their grief. The simple fact was, he’d learned from an early age to use laughter as an antidote to pain.

As an adult, he’d continued his hell-raising ways. The shallow, diverting life of the rake about town suited him well enough. Even so, the emptiness of his days had begun to pall of late, accompanied by a nameless, nagging dissatisfaction with his romantic dalliances. He wanted … more from his relationships.

Which was absurd. He had his family. He shouldn’t need anyone else. Furthermore, he had only himself to blame if he felt alone and isolated at times. He still kept part of himself closed off even from his close-knit family. For his own self-protection, he still guarded his emotions and rarely showed any real feeling other than humor.

Unlike Skye, who wore her heart on her sleeve, as she was doing now. Her expression had turned earnest and pleading.

“If you don’t act now, Jack, it will be too late. You will lose your chance for true love. Life is too short to waste—you should know that better than anyone. Aunt Clara was your age when she died, and she sacrificed everything for love.”

Jack winced at her frankness, but he should have expected Skye to use any means at her disposal to convince him, including his mother’s sad experience. Skye was like a burr when she wanted something, burrowing under the skin and refusing to be dislodged. She’d been that way from an early age.

She wasn’t even born when he’d arrived in England with his uncles all those years ago, newly orphaned and grieving and afraid. But her birth had given him something to latch on to. She was so tiny and helpless, he’d appointed himself her protector. Later as a toddler, she had followed him everywhere, calling him “mine.” He couldn’t get rid of her.

She had stubbornly wormed her way into his heart, the first of his cousins to do so. Skye had dragged him into the loving family fold, kicking and screaming. Because of her keen sensitivity, she more than anyone had an instinctive understanding of the torment he had gone through as a child, even if she didn’t know the excruciating details. In return, he’d guarded and cared for her as if she were his flesh and blood sister.

A special bond still existed between them, which she unfairly called u

pon now:

“If you won’t try and save Miss Fortin for your own sake, then do it for mine. Please.”

And that was the rub, Jack knew. He was rarely able to resist Skye. Few people could, especially men. She could wrap them around her finger and sweetly persuade them all to do her bidding.

Yet he wouldn’t base a decision of such import on his cousin’s whims alone. If he were to pursue his legendary lovers tale, it would be for his own sake. His and Sophie Fortin’s.

It was true, though. Miss Fortin did need rescuing. And perhaps he needed rescuing from the self-imposed blandness of his life as well.…

Coming to a decision, Jack drained the last of his ale while shaking his head. He couldn’t believe he was about to entangle himself in an age-old feud and complicate his life immeasurably by trying to save a near stranger from a loveless marriage to a middle-aged duke.

Apparently Skye misjudged his gesture. “So are you just giving up?”

“I did not say that.” He wouldn’t, couldn’t turn his back on Miss Fortin. Not now that he’d had a taste of her. His protective instincts had been inexorably aroused.

Skye appeared to lose patience at his silence. “Drat you, Jack, you are being annoyingly stubborn.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, he grinned at her. “So what else is new?” At her glare of frustration, however, he ended his teasing and held out his hand. “Give me the damned journal.”

A brilliant smile spread Skye’s mouth as she slid the volume across the table.

“Don’t raise your hopes too high,” he warned. “I’m not promising to court her. And you vastly underestimate the effort it will require to save her from wedding her duke at this late date.”