“We will just have to suffer through.”
Hawkhurst escorted her upstairs to her bedchamber door and parted ways.
It was with great regret that Skye watched him walk away, yet more than any time since her arrival, she felt hopeful that she was at last slipping under his guard a small measure.
Hawk dreamed about her that night—one of the most erotic dreams he’d ever experienced. He woke the next morning with his cock stiff and aching, his mind filled with lingering sensations: his fingers tangled in her golden hair, her breast in his mouth, her bare legs wrapped around his hips as he took his pleasure of her and gave her pleasure in return.
When they met in the kitchens for breakfast, the lucent memory of making love to her hit him like a fresh blow. Unwanted images flooded him … Skye beneath him, sobbing with ecstasy as he sheathed himself deeper within the haven of her body.
The thought of bringing her to passion again made his loins grow heavy, and he had difficulty hiding the result. Thankfully Macky arrived by midmorning and served as a distraction from his erotic fantasies.
Macky was indeed a member of the Guardians. The chestnut-haired Irishman was also a charming ladies’ man who had recently—and surprisingly—met his match with a quiet young beauty, Lady Claire Montlow. Claire’s elder sister Eve, Countess of Hayden, had less-surprisingly married Hawk’s fellow Guardian, Sir Alex Ryder. Macky and his new bride continued to reside in England, while the Ryders made their home on the Isle of Cyrene.
Lady Skye, who had a natural charm even more potent than Macky’s, worked her wiles on the Irishman, enough to coax him to admit that he was occasionally employed by the Foreign Office. It didn’t satisfy her rabid curiosity about the Guardians, Hawk could tell, but she didn’t press further.
Hawk had her repeat the story about her uncle’s suspected love affair, then related the details he’d uncovered during his interview of the midwife, Peggy Nibbs. Afterward he allowed Skye to sit in on their deliberations as he and Macky pored over maps of Ireland.
Eventually they decided to concentrate the search in the area closest to England that matched Mrs. Nibbs’s recollections. The southeastern county of Kilkenny boasted a town of the same name built around a medieval castle, as well as a smaller town, Castlecomer, a short distance to the north.
The region even farther to the north had the additional advantage of being a horse-racing center with a National Stud and a celebrated racecourse. The broad plain of the Curragh in County Kildare was home to a number of studs with top breeding stallions.
Acting as an advance scout, Macky would travel in the guise of purchasing agent for Lord Hawkhurst, who, he would say, wished to add some champion bloodstock to his stables. Hawk had various contacts in Ireland from his former visits there, but Macky could blend in with the local citizenry with remarkable ease and so could ask questions more easily, he explained to Lady Skye.
“Then you have played these roles before?” she observed.
“Aye, that we have, my lady,” Macky answered, his eyes twinkling.
Hawk explained his rationale. “It will raise less suspicions if Macky goes first, besides making the search progress more quickly. I will follow him a few days later, after I put my affairs in order here at home.”
Before Macky took his leave, Hawk gave him some additional instructions. “When you return from Ireland, I will want you to find out everything you can about the late baron William Farnwell, and his son, Edgar, as well as Lady Farnwell’s daughter, Daphne. In fact, you should hire Linch to begin inquiries while you are gone.”
“Who is Linch?” Skye asked.
“A London Bow Street Runner who has a keen eye for details.”
The Runners were private thief takers, but Horace Linch possessed a number of skills the Guardians had relied upon in the past.
When Skye looked concerned at yet another stranger becoming involved in her uncle’s tragic love story, Hawk reassured her. “You may trust Linch to be discreet.”
Macky made her a similar promise before collecting the miniature portrait of Rachel, Lady Farnwell, to use in his inquiries, then bowed himself out.
When Hawk was alone with Skye once more, she thanked him for personally conducting the search for the missing Lady Farnwell. “So you mean to leave for Ireland in a few days?”
“Yes. The sooner the better. I have a great deal of work to do here first, but a delay will allow Macky time to narrow the search area.”
She nodded sagely. “This is a good time for you to be away. Even if you weren’t inclined to traipse all over Ireland on my uncle’s behalf, you ought not stay here while the damaged rooms are being torn down.”
Hawk gave her a sharp look. “I don’t need you to coddle me, sweeting.”
“Certainly you do. Everyone needs a little coddling now and then, and you have no one else to do it for you. I am well practiced at coddling, since I have a large family and any number of good friends.”
Hawk managed to hide a smile. In some respects, he appreciated her concern for him. Her heart was soft enough that she wouldn’t let him wallow in his pain. But it went against the grain to accept her succor.
For the next two days, he made it a point to keep away from Skye as much as possible. He did have major preparations to make before he could leave. The first was to send for the architect in order to finalize arrangements for rebuilding the house. The workmen would start sooner than planned, so that the razing of the damaged wing would be well under way by the time he returned to England.
Another critical step was to summon Isabella here to stay with her niece. It would never do to leave Lady Skye alone in his home for such a length of time without a respectable relative to quell the inevitable gossip.
Hawk was actually glad to have a mission to occupy him, though. Skye was right. Leaving would allow him to escape the inevitable din of reconstruction as well as the ghosts.