In the meantime, Skye vowed, she was not leaving Hawkhurst Castle. In the French fairy tale, the beast had imprisoned the beauty. In this case, she would do the imprisoning—holding herself captive until Lord Hawkhurst agreed to let her spend time with him.
And if he never agreed?
Skye let out a shaky breath, knowing everything still depended on her powers of persuasion.
But she was not giving up yet. Not by a long chalk.
The snorting, prancing stallion was a handful—just the challenge he needed to work off his frustration, Hawk decided grimly. He often rode to conquer his demons, and this morning he was also gentling his newest equine purchase, who was young and fractious and dangerous even to his experienced grooms.
With a touch of his heels, Hawk set the magnificent black Thoroughbred into an easy canter rather than the full gallop needed to expend the horse’s excess energy. Normally the quiet meadow was ideal for schooling, but the drenching rain had left the grass slick and treacherous. And, admittedly, Hawk’s focus was not solely on his task.
He found it impossible to shake off his anger. Even though Lady Skye had willingly offered her body to him, he was furious at himself for giving in to his sexual need.
He’d been something of a rakehell in his younger days before marrying Elizabeth. And as a widower, he’d occasionally interrupted his solitary life on Cyrene by enjoying the sexual favors and companionship of various Cyprians. But his bed sport had never extended to seducing virgins.
He didn’t harm innocents, period. Bloody hell. Last night he’d disregarded his deepest principles, seeking oblivion in pure carnal release, losing himself in the hot, sweet comfort of Skye’s body.
And now all his long-held plans might be in jeopardy. If he was forced to wed her, he would be unable to fulfill his obligations to the Guardians and their beloved, aging leader.
Some of his anger, Hawk knew, was reserved for Skye herself—for tempting him to want again. She had shocked his numbed carnal hunger violently to life and, far worse, had made him feel long-dead emotions. Bloody, bloody hell.
In truth, from their first encounter he’d thought her more sophisticated than she actually was. He should have known better, particularly last night when she’d tried to hide the pain from losing her maidenhead. There had been nothing calculated about their joining, though, he was now certain. She hadn’t lured him into her bed with the goal of compromising herself.
If he’d had any doubts, they would have been wiped away by her response to him this morning—the sweet flush of desire on her face, the unguarded openness of her expression, the honesty in her blue eyes. Her shyness was unfeigned, and her nervous chatter was actually endearing to him.
Yet she was perhaps the last woman he wanted to marry, in part because of the dangerous effect she had on him.
Apparently she had no desire to wed him, either. It frankly astonished Hawk that she’d rejected the idea of marriage so readily. Most ladies her age would have leapt at the chance to snare a wealthy earl, even a reclusive, scarred, ill-tempered one. Initially her refusal had won a measure of admiration from him, until she’d stated her reasons. Her talk of love had roused an instinctive discord in Hawk. She wanted a husband who could love her, and he had absolutely no intention of loving again.
Not that the choice was his to make. He didn’t believe he was even capable of loving again. He’d buried his heart with his dead wife.
His discord had stayed with him until this moment—and regrettably translated to his mount. When the stallion shied at a phantom object in the adjacent woods, Hawk brought him up short, then used a firm leg and a soft word to send the horse forward again into a stronger canter. He had no business letting his foul mood affect the nervous animal.
Relying on small circles and more complicated patterns to regain the stallion’s attention, H
awk wiped his mind clear of the frustrating beauty inhabiting his castle in order to refocus on his work.
Nearly an hour later, just as he was finishing with the stallion’s schooling, Hawk caught a glimpse of a horsewoman riding toward him. Recognizing Lady Skye, Hawk swore another low oath. He should have expected her to do the unexpected and follow him out to the meadow behind the castle.
Just as unexpectedly, she was riding bareback, astride like a man. Her golden hair was down, while the hem of her gown was hiked up a bit to show dark stockings and an expanse of pale thigh.
Remembering those smooth, slender limbs wrapped around him made a rush of heat spike through Hawk.
So did her appearance when she reached the edge of the meadow where he’d come to a halt. She looked as charming and lovely as a summer morning.
Her skin had an enchanting flush that only enhanced her beauty, bringing to mind the potent memory of how she tasted, how she’d responded. He could still feel her beneath him, writhing with the desire he’d awakened in her.…
Fiercely disciplining the riot of his senses, Hawk eyed her disapprovingly, making it clear by his stare that he was not happy to see her. “What the devil are you doing here, Lady Skye?”
“I saw you riding off on your stallion from my bedchamber window, so I went to your stables to await your return. When you never appeared, I decided to come to you. I feared you wouldn’t give me the chance to speak otherwise.” When his frowning gaze narrowed on her mount, she added hastily, “This is one of my own carriage horses. I didn’t want to take one of yours without permission.”
“You balked at acting without my permission?” he drawled, his gruff reply designed to keep her at a distance. “How astonishing.”
His sarcasm won a quick smile from her. “I know you are protective of your horses, and I did not want to get your grooms in trouble.”
Lady Skye’s consideration impressed him, but Hawk was not about to let her see it. In the face of his dispassion, she went on doggedly.
“I have been watching you from afar these past few minutes, Lord Hawkhurst. I had heard you were an amazing horseman, but you look like a centaur, a seamless part of your horse.” She glanced pointedly at the stallion, who was standing quietly and obediently now. “Your grooms told me that splendid creature is said to be rather wild. No one else will dare mount him. How do you manage it?”