She was also brazen to call at his nearly deserted country estate when no one suitable was present to act as chaperone. Yet to attain her heart’s desire, she needed to be bold and daring. She would not let the risk of scandal deter her. Courting scandal in their amorous affairs was a Wilde family legacy, and she was a Wilde, through and through.
When they entered a dark corridor, Skye glanced inside the rooms they passed. The fact that the elegant manor was damp and musty from disuse was no wonder, considering that it had been shut up for more than ten years. But the furniture was still shrouded in holland covers.
“I expected you to have servants to answer your front door,” she commented to the earl’s back.
“The elderly man who acts as caretaker is hard of hearing and didn’t heed your pounding.”
“But I understood you arrived here a full week ago. I thought by now you would have tried to set the castle to rights.”
Only after another pause did he answer her probing remark. “I haven’t yet arranged for a full-time staff. Some women from the village came today to begin cleaning, but with the storm approaching, I sent them home before it grew too dark.”
“That was kind of you.”
Hawkhurst made another low sound of dismissal in his throat and kept walking.
“I am grateful that you opened your door to me,” Skye pressed, “although you frightened me out of my wits, brandishing that knife.”
“You did not look particularly frightened.”
She had not been—but then she knew the extraordinary sort of man she was dealing with. “I suppose you have an excuse for your extreme reaction. You can’t help yourself. You were trained to be suspicious. You were a spy for the Foreign Office for the past dozen years and more, were you not?”
Hawkhurst halted in his tracks and glanced back at her. “Who told you that?”
“My aunt, of course. She also warned me that you were a determined recluse. But you could be a trifle more welcoming, for her sake if nothing else.”
His eyebrow shot up at her impertinence. Hawkhurst regarded her for several more heartbeats, obviously reassessing her.
He must finally have realized that she was attempting to lighten the mood, for her complaint won her the barest hint of a smile. “You break into my home and then take me to task?”
“I did not break in,” she pointed out genially. “You admitted me.”
“Much to my regret.
Just then the darkness in the corridor was broken by another lightning flash. When he continued on his way, Skye followed in his footsteps.
Upon arriving at his study, he allowed her to precede him. To her relief, this room at least looked habitable. A fire was crackling in the hearth and a low-burning lamp rested on a massive desk.
“You may sit there by the fire,” he said, pointing to a leather wing chair that was angled before the hearth.
His invitation seemed slightly grudging, but Skye did not take offense. “Do you mind if I remove my cloak first? I am chilled to the bone.” Her discomfort was not a lie. Her cloak was soaked through and her gown was damp at the bodice and sodden at the hem.
Hawkhurst murmured something under his breath that sounded much like, “It serves you right,” but he stepped closer to aid her.
When he reached out to lift the cloak from her shoulders, Skye’s own breath suddenly turned ragged at his close proximity. Then, when she handed over the garment, revealing an elegantly tailored traveling dress of forest green kerseymere beneath, his gaze dropped to her breasts.
Instinctively she went still as his marvelous eyes traveled over her body in dispassionate appraisal. She was well aware of her physical attributes and that her feminine countenance and figure appealed to most men. Usually she had suitors falling at her feet, declaring themselves in love with her. Yet she had no clue what Hawkhurst was thinking or feeling.
There was no question about her body’s reaction to him, however. She was not sexually experienced, but the intense fascination she felt for him was most certainly sexual, her desire that of a grown woman, not merely the love-struck awe of a young girl. But what he did to her insides was more remarkable. His mere nearness filled her with fluttery excitement and sweet yearning—a response she had never felt with any man but him.
She had no difficulty picturing Hawkhurst as her husband now, just as she’d done numerous times in her romantic dreams these past few months. If he were her husband, though, she could have removed her gown instead of standing here shivering in this clammy one. If he were her husband, she could have undressed down to her shift and moved into his arms. Indeed, she could have bared her entire chilled body to him and shared his warmth.…
The alluring image dissolved when he took her dripping cloak and spread it near the hearth to dry, then went to his desk without another word.
Hawkhurst was clearly displeased to have her in his home, Skye could tell as she removed her wet gloves. She ought to be intimidated by his surly manner; any normal young lady would be. But few gentlemen had the power to shake her, perhaps because she was accustomed to handling the strong-willed men in her family.
She usually was able to bend them to her own will with sweet reason. She suspected in this case, though, it would take a good deal more than reason to sway the earl. Indeed, the sheer size of her task daunted her. But if Lord Hawkhurst was looking for a wife, it might as well be her, Skye judged. At the very least, she wanted to see if they were a compatible match. And regardless of her romantic hopes, she needed a hero just now, and he was a genuine hero.
Skye drew a steadying breath to bolster her courage. She had contrived to land on his doorstep, and now she had to capitalize on the opportunity she had created for herself.