Lover Be Mine (Legendary Lovers 2)

“My l-lord,” she managed to say with relative calm. “You needn’t defend yourself from me. I am not a thief or assassin. Had I been, I would not have knocked on your front door.”

“If not a thief, then who are you?” he asked in a voice that was commanding and pleasantly deep.

“I am Skye Wilde, the niece of your friend, Lady Isabella Wilde.”

His brows drew together sharply. “Did Bella send you here?”

“Yes … I mean, no.”

“Which is it?” He sounded impatient.

“Actually, she did not send me. I came on my own, all the way from London—” Skye stopped herself. When she was nervous, she became breathless and spoke too rapidly. “Forgive me, my lord. I chatter on when dangerous gentlemen glare at me and threaten me with knives.”

His expression softened a measure as he lowered the blade to his side. “Are you daft, setting out in a storm?”

She hid a smile at his accusation, since she’d just been wondering the same thing. “When I left home this afternoon, it was not storming. And I don’t believe I am daft, merely desperate. May I please come in before you ring a peal over my head? Afterward you may scold me as much as you like.”

Hawkhurst made a soft sound of disapproval in his throat, something like a growl, but stepped back to allow her entrance. As she moved past him, he glanced out at the darkening courtyard below, which was nearly obscured by rain. “Where is your carriage?”

“I took the liberty of sending it around to your stables. My horses and grooms needed shelter. I felt certain you would want me to keep my horses safe. Perhaps you should shut the door,” Skye added sweetly. “Rain is gusting in and flooding your marble floor.”

He stared at her again for a moment, as if not crediting her boldness. Then curtly acting on her suggestion, he closed the door and blocked out the storm before turning to face her.

The hall was quieter now, although still echoing dully from sheets of rain lashing the manor.

Skye smiled up at Lord Hawkhurst. “I do beg your pardon, my lord. We got off on the wrong foot. May we start afresh? I am Lady Skye Wilde, and I am happy to meet you at last. Have you not heard of me?”

“Yes, I have heard of you.” He did not look pleased by the fact.

“I thought Aunt Bella might have mentioned me. You and I are practically family.”

He gave her another frowning glance, this one rife with skepticism. “How did you arrive at that conclusion?”

“Well … we are not related by blood, but you and my aunt are such good friends, I feel as if I know you. And you are acquainted with my elder brother, Quinn Wilde, the Earl of Traherne. You and I were never officially introduced, but I saw you once a long time ago, when you and your wife attended a ball at our home, Tallis Court. I was the girl hanging over the banister, watching the dancers below.”

Even in the dim light, she could see recognition dawn in Hawkhurst’s striking eyes.

“I am flattered that you remember me,” Skye said honestly. “Except for a brief moment, you paid no attention to me that evening.”

“I feared you might be in need of rescue.”

Skye felt her cheeks warm at the reminder. She’d been watching the glittering company with her cousin Kate from the gallery above the ballroom. When the devastatingly handsome Lord Hawkhurst had looked up at her and smiled, her heart had instantly melted. Stricken with awe, she’d nearly tumbled over the railing. The earl had leapt closer, prepared to catch her and break her fall if necessary. Fortunately—or unfortunately, Skye had thought at the time—her cousin’s quick action in grasping her skirts had saved her from disaster.

Uncomfortable awareness flooded her now. How embarrassing to appear so awkward with a nobleman she wanted earnestly to impress. This was twice now that she had almost fallen at his feet.

“I am not usually so clumsy, I promise you.”

He did not seem interested in prolonging their discussion. “What brings you here in the midst of a storm, Lady Skye?”

His abruptness was rather unmannerly, but given her unexpected arrival, she could forgive him.

“My aunt wrote me a letter of introduction and explained my purpose to you.…” Fishing in her reticule, Skye pulled out a folded letter that was a bit worse for wear and presented it to him. “Please will you read this?”

Hawkhurst broke the wax seal but barely glanced at the contents, perhaps because it was difficult to read in the scant light. When he made to move closer to the wall sconce, Skye spoke up. “Is there a fire where I may warm myself?”

He hesitated before finally replying. “There is one in my study. Follow me.”

When he strode off across the entrance hall, she hurried to keep up with him and found herself eyeing his tall, athletic form with admiration. He was dressed informally—white linen shirt, buff breeches, and riding boots—and the way his clothing clung to his broad shoulders, lean hips, well-formed buttocks, and muscular thighs emphasized his stark masculinity. It was brazen to admit, Skye knew, but the intense physical attraction she felt for Hawkhurst now was much less pure than when she was a mere girl.