Secrets of Seduction

by Nicole Jordan

  Rachel smiled politely. “But please, rest assured I have no intention of mounting a legal challenge. I won’t contest your legitimacy.”

  “Why the bloody hell not?” he ground out through his teeth, earning a sharp glance from Hawk.

  “Because as I said, that was another lifetime ago.”

  Of course there was a paramount reason she would not seek to elevate her daughter in Edgar’s place, Skye knew. Daphne was not actually William Farnwell’s daughter, so morally the inheritance didn’t belong to her, even if legally a case could be made. They couldn’t risk the truth coming out, however. Not only would an explosive scandal result, but Daphne would forever be shunned by polite society.

  Moreover, Daphne had no idea of her true parentage yet—and certainly her brother could never be allowed to learn of it.

  Fortunately Farnwell was focused on his own complaints. “There should not even be a question of my legitimacy. You were thought to be dead when my father remarried. The validity of his second marriage should be unassailable.”

  “But it is not.”

  “Then the law is monstrously unfair.”

  “Perhaps, but you have nothing to fear from me. Daphne and I have discussed the matter. We believe it is best to let sleeping dogs lie.”

  When suspicion suffused his features, Daphne voiced her agreement. “Mrs. Donnelly had to persuade me to go along, but not for the reason you think.” She gazed at her mother solemnly. “What disturbed me most was that you never received a proper burial. I wanted the world to know that you did not kill yourself, so the stain on your memory would be erased.”

  Rachel returned a poignant smile. “My reputation isn’t important, my dear.”

  Farnwell broke in again. “If you bring me down, Daphne will be mired in scandal as well. I will make certain of that.”

  “Which is why I intend to keep the secret.”

  “There will be no possible way to conceal your existence,” Farnwell refuted, his voice rising an octave in frustration.

  “I beg to differ, my lord. I assumed the name of an Irish relative years ago, and I shall continue the pretense for my remaining lifetime. Any resemblance to Daphne can be brushed off as a family similarity. Even if, by an unlucky chance, someone happens to recognize me as Baroness Farnwell, I will deny it and laugh it off. My identity will remain a strict secret—unless you choose to advertise it by shouting to Lord Hawkhurst’s entire household.”

  “What about Nibbs?”

  “Who,” Daphne countered, “would believe the ravings of ‘an old peasant,’ as you just termed her?”

  “Even so, I do not trust you, madam,” he almost hissed.

  At his savage tone, both Cornelius and Isabella moved closer to Rachel’s side, hovering protectively, as if to show strength in numbers. Skye found herself instinctively closing ranks as well.

  But Daphne, who knew her brother best, chimed in. “Please believe me, Edgar, I am not after your fortune, even if you have always been a nipcheese with mine.”

  From Edgar’s perspective, his worry was understandable, Skye thought. Daphne had been left a modest dowry and portion by her father, but Edgar controlled the purse strings and was exceedingly stingy.

  “I will never believe you,” he insisted.

  Rachel intervened with a rational explanation. “Lord Farnwell, I will not need your fortune. I have been living very simply in a cottage all these years and have very modest needs.”

  “Now you claim you have no desire to improve your station? You are living in a virtual palace”—he glanced around the elegantly refurbished drawing room—“and you prefer a cottage to this luxury?”

  The sneer was back in his tone, but this time it held a tinge of jealousy of Hawk’s inherited wealth. Briefly Skye met Hawk’s gaze and saw his gray eyes glittering with irony. Farnwell had no idea of the trials Hawk had suffered and was still facing.

  Then Rachel continued in a milder voice, “Cottage or palace makes no difference. And even if it did, I am now engaged to wed Lord Cornelius Wilde. He has fortune enough to keep me in luxury should I crave it.”

  After a start at her mother’s sudden announcement, Daphne looked only faintly surprised. Perhaps she had guessed at Rachel’s affection for Cornelius after witnessing them together for the past sennight, although they had maintained their pretense of being merely old friends until they considered her ready to accept the news.

  Rather than be comforted, Farnwell resorted to genuine hostility. “I have a better solution. You should stay dead!”

  Rachel looked startled herself. “Wh-what do you mean?”

  “Your vow to keep quiet is not good enough. You need to leave England and return to wherever you have been hiding.”

  Skye felt herself bristling. Daphne had said her brother tended to become abusive and threatening when he didn’t get his own way, and his tone as he berated Rachel bore that out.

  Surprisingly, however, his demeanor only stiffened Rachel’s spine. “I will not be forced to leave England again,” she said quietly.

  When Farnwell took a step toward her, Cornelius let out a low growl and moved between them, his stance rigid, his hands curled into fists warningly as he faced down the baron. Skye was taken aback to see her mild-mannered, scholarly uncle prepared to employ physical violence. But he had also waited twenty-five years to defend the love of his life, and that failure would have grated on his soul as a man.

  “She has suffered inexcusably at your vile father’s hand,” Cornelius bit out before Rachel laid a calming hand on his arm.

  “Thank you, my dear, but I have quailed for too long and am determined to stand up for myself.” With consummate dignity, she addressed Farnwell. “I have already wasted over half my life living in fear, my lord. I will not do so any longer.”

  Skye silently applauded Rachel’s refusal to leave timidly or quietly. But there was no need for her to fear an abusive bully anymore, either. She now had wealthy, powerful supporters—Lord Cornelius and the entire Wilde family, as well as the Earl of Hawkhurst.

  His complexion flushing red, Farnwell stared at the company, but when he brandished his own fists at Cornelius, Hawk stepped in.

  “I don’t advise it,” he warned softly.

  Farnwell was livid by now, but evidently he thought better of starting a brawl.

  “My majordomo will escort you from the premises,” Hawk added in a silken drawl.

  The baron not only looked outraged but flabbergasted. “You are ordering me off your property? Me?”

  “Indeed. And I will advise my servants to keep you off permanently. You return at your own peril.”

  Hawk’s eyes were like slate as he stared down the baron. Farnwell was clearly furious but helpless.

  With a strangled sound, he abruptly capitulated. Brushing past the others, he stalked across the drawing room and flung open the door. With a final seething glance behind him, he quit the room.

  “Pray excuse me a moment,” Hawk murmured before following Farnwell, no doubt to instruct the castle servants to make certain he left the premises. Skye highly approved of the precaution. Hawk was taking no chances that the baron would take his anger out on Rachel.

  Although no one was ready to say the issue was resolved, there was a visible relief of tension at his retreat. Rachel exhaled a long breath while Cornelius’s stance relaxed.

  Daphne recovered most quickly, however, and proceeded to marvel at her mother’s betrothal announcement. “I shouldn’t be surprised that you and Lord Cornelius intend to marry. It has been fairly obvious that you are in love.”

  Rachel cautiously studied Daphne’s face. “We would like your blessing, my dear.”

  “Of course you have it. I am very glad that you love each other.”

  Cornelius clasped Rachel’s hand in his. “Your mother is correct, Miss Farnwell. I have an ample fortune and can provide for her and for you as well. You will not lack for fortune, even though you are unable to claim Farnwell’s.”

 
; As much as Skye would have liked to hear the remainder of the conversation, she was more eager to speak to Hawk alone, and so quietly slipped from the room in pursuit of him.

  Farther along the corridor she spied an elegant, silver-haired gentleman. He had stepped out of Hawk’s study, she suspected, because he was curious about all the commotion. It had to be Sir Gawain Olwen, Skye thought as he momentarily waylaid Hawk.

  When she halted, debating what to do, she realized that Aunt Bella had followed her into the corridor.

  Her aunt took one look at her dismal expression and instantly grew concerned. “What is it, my love? Something is amiss, I can tell.”

  Not for the first time did Skye wish her aunt was not quite so perceptive.

  Determinedly she swallowed the ache in her throat. Hawk was fully occupied at the moment, but she would not allow him to leave for London without another attempt to renew her arguments about his impending courtship and marriage. By forcing a confrontation, she would be fighting for him—for them, Skye told herself. But perhaps she needed Isabella’s wise counsel beforehand.…

  With a final glance at Hawk, she turned back to her aunt. “Now that you mention it … You are an expert on romantic matters, and I could use your advice. My own arsenal of tricks is entirely depleted.”

  “Of course, my dear,” Bella said gently as she slipped her arm in Skye’s. “Come with me to my rooms and we will have a quiet coze.”

  It went against Skye’s very nature to give up, but relinquishing hope for Hawk’s love was precisely what her aunt recommended.

  In fact, when told of his plans, Isabella seemed more torn by his dilemma than Skye’s. “I understand why Hawk feels obligated to fill Sir Gawain’s shoes. He would not want to betray the man who has been like a father to him.”

  “Oh, I understand,” Skye agreed. “But what can I do about it, Aunt? I have tried my utmost to make him love me, to no avail.”

  “Do you love him?”

  “Yes. More than anything. But clearly he doesn’t return my feelings. And even if he did, we have no future together. Not when he insists on wedding Sir Gawain’s niece so he can lead the Guardians.”

  Isabella pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I believe you have done all you can, Skye. As I have told you before, one cannot force love. If you are meant to be together, then you will be.”

  Skye badly wanted to refute her aunt’s assertion. All her instincts were clamoring for her to persevere. She wanted to fight for Hawk’s love and win.

  But Aunt Bella interjected more guidance using the voice of reason. “You know that arguing and demanding will only push Hawk away. You must let love come to you, Skye.”

  “You are saying that he must make the choice himself?”

  “Yes, exactly.”

  No matter how sage the advice, Skye’s natural impulses continued to rebel. She had always been driven to control her own fate. She didn’t want to leave the decision to Hawk, unable to manage the outcome. But for once in her life she might be unable to get what she wanted.

  “The Guardians are his life,” Isabella added in a somber tone. “Forcing him to choose between you will only cause him pain. Is that what you want for him? More pain?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “But that is what will happen if you continue pressing him.”

  Skye’s throat grew tight. She’d been proceeding blithely these past few days, her heart filled with love and dreams. But now her dreams were about to be shattered.

  “Sir Gawain wants Hawk because he is a born leader,” Aunt Bella went on. “Although some other Guardians are as brave and skilled as he is, few could fill that particular role as well as he.”

  Skye swallowed the hard lump of emotion in her throat, attempting to see the decision from Hawk’s perspective. The Guardians were his calling. They had made him the man he is today. Did she have the right to ask him to give them up?

  The reminder led her to question her own motives—and a dozen thoughts crowded into her mind as a result: How selfish of her even to try to persuade him. Hawk was a hero, a man of action. He had dedicated the previous ten years of his life to righting wrongs and saving lives. He did what was right, despite his own self-interest. Could she do any less?

  He was making the sacrifice to serve his country. Could she make the same sacrifice? Love meant sacrificing sometimes. And she wanted to prove worthy of his love.

  The noble thing would be to let him go. If she loved him, she had to let him go.

  With extreme reluctance, Skye nodded at her aunt’s unwelcome counsel. Feeling a hollow, aching need rise up within her, she wondered if she’d made a grave mistake from the very beginning. Why had she let herself fall in love with Hawk? If she had known it would hurt this much, would she still have pursued him?

  But yes. Following her heart was in her very blood. Her family loved with a bone-deep fierceness, and she was no exception.

  Skye blinked away the sudden sting of tears. She would have to be stoic when she faced Hawk, just as she would have to control any display of painful emotions. She often wore her heart on her sleeve, but she certainly couldn’t tell him of her love, for that would only add to his burden of guilt.

  No doubt her aunt was right. She had done all she could. The rest was up to Hawk.

  A quarter hour later, when she found Hawk in the corridor outside his study, he halted upon seeing her.

  “May I have a moment of your time?” Skye asked quietly.

  His gray eyes were wary, before his dark lashes lowered to hide any hint of emotion.

  “You needn’t worry,” she hastened to add. “I haven’t come to repeat my entreaties. I only want to bid you farewell.”

  “Indeed?” he said politely, distantly.

  Skye felt her stomach sink further with dread. Hawk’s expression was impassive, as detached as ever, as it had been in the early days of their relationship.

  He ushered her inside the study and went to stand by the window, his profile stark and stunning in the gray afternoon light. It frightened her to think that her greatest fear was coming to pass, but she forced herself to launch into her short, prepared speech.

  “I won’t implore you to reconsider, Hawk. Of course I don’t want you to wed Miss Olwen, but I understand why you must put your league first. Your duty is more important than any personal contentment. You must do what you must.”

  “Yes, I must.”

  His concise response brought the ache back to her chest. She desperately wanted this man to love her, but her hope was futile. Hawk would never open his heart to her. He wouldn’t permit himself. There was no answering fire in his eyes, no feeling at all.

  Skye willed herself not to show her despair. “I agree, you should lead the Guardians. You save lives, Hawk. You shouldn’t be compelled to give that up.”

  Even though it means I must give you up.

  She felt the ache cut through her heart. Her chest tight, her eyes burning, she offered him a tremulous smile and moved to stand directly before him.

  She hesitated a moment memorizing his beloved face, the proud curves of cheekbones and chin and forehead, before saying simply, “If this is farewell … I want you to remember me.”

  “I could never forget you, sweeting.”

  He lifted his hand, touching his fingertips along the rise of her cheek. “Your name should be Sunshine.…”

  His tenderness was like a nail to her heart.

  Forcibly she swallowed a sob. “Before I go … will you allow me one last kiss? That is all I ask.”

  Resistance was etched in the chiseled planes of his face, but Hawk complied and lowered his head so their mouths could meet.

  His lips were warm but not welcoming. Determinedly, Skye slid her arms around his neck to pull him closer, and for a fleeting instant, their kiss turned hard, with a hint of the glorious passion they had always shared. She tried to press herself deeper into the hard, muscular shelter of his body … but almost as suddenly, Hawk broke off their embrace.
His hands on her shoulders, he deliberately set her away.

  As he drew back, Skye glimpsed something in his eyes … the hot need burning just below the surface. But then his heavy black lashes veiled his gaze.

  The implacable lines of his face were like a knife twisting in her heart.

  “Godspeed on your journey, Hawk,” she whispered.

  Then, before her voice could break entirely, she turned and ran from the room.

  Scalding tears filled her eyes, blinding her, but she didn’t stop until she reached her own bedchamber and shut herself inside. Squeezing her eyes shut, Skye stood with her back pressed against the door, tears spilling helplessly down her cheeks.

  All her hopes for happiness had gone up in flames. Yet she was crying not only for herself but for the man who would go on living without love.

  London was as cold and gray as Hawk felt. Inside Sir Gawain’s overcrowded town house, however, the heat from numerous chandeliers and perfumed bodies masked the chill.

  Hawk gazed out over a sea of colorful gowns and elegant coiffures, fighting a cloying sense of oppression. This was the second major event of his courtship—a dinner and ball hosted by the baronet. Sir Gawain’s great-niece and her parents had stayed at his London home for several weeks now and seemed anxious for Hawk’s appearance.

  Their initial meeting had gone awkwardly, though. Miss Amelia Olwen was pretty and gentle and sweet in nature, but utterly, mind-numbingly bland.

  She also looked as if she might swoon at the first hint of danger. She clearly found Hawk intimidating, and she was appalled by his scars.

  Unlike Skye, who sees your scars as a badge of courage.

  For an instant, Hawk let himself dwell on his last memory of Skye when she’d kissed him farewell at Hawkhurst. Her eyes had been luminous with sadness, and when she smiled that tremulous heartbreaking smile, he wanted to call off his entire plan.

  He’d spent the three nights since arriving in London alternately suffering a restless, dream-tossed sleep or lying awake with a hole in his gut. Not because of the ghosts of his dead family—those he had managed to conquer with Skye’s help—but from haunting regrets at being forced to leave her.