“Will you please read my aunt’s letter, my lord?” she asked.
Obligingly, he turned up the flame on the desk lamp, then held the letter nearer the light. It was then that Skye really saw the burn scars marring the back of his hands.
A sudden lump formed in her throat. Hawkhurst was still the most beautiful man she had ever seen, but also the most deeply scarred. Not just on the outside but on the inside, if her information was correct. After all, he had crawled through fire to save his wife and young son, futilely as it happened. With his life shattered, he’d exiled himself to a distant Mediterranean island and spent the past decade engaged in dangerous deeds, not caring whether he lived or died.
Skye’s heart went out to him. Perhaps that organ was too tender, but as the youngest Wilde cousin of the current generation, she was known for being the sensitive one, in addition to being the most mischievous.
Mentally chiding herself for staring at the earl’s scarred hands, she busied herself spreading her gloves on the hearth. Then she settled into the wing chair and began to remove the pins from her chignon, since her damp hair would dry more quickly if down.
For a short while as he read, the silence in the study was broken only by rain spitting against the window-panes and the occasional snap of a log in the hearth fire.
When Hawkhurst absently reached for a snifter that was almost empty, Skye noticed the crystal decanter half-filled with what appeared to be brandy. Evidently he had been drinking, which partially explained his morose mood.
It was not surprising that he would be sitting alone here and brooding. She would have brooded also if she’d had to face the ghosts of her dead family, as he doubtless had upon his arrival at the castle after a decade of being absent.
In fact, it was his castle that had made Skye wonder if the earl might be her ideal match. According to her cousin Kate’s matchmaking theory, the five Wilde cousins—Ashton, Quinn, Jack, Katharine, and Skye—could possibly find true love by mirroring legendary lovers in history and literature.
Skye hoped that her romance would follow a French fairy tale written nearly a century ago, where a beautiful young lady had been delivered to a beast whose lair was a palace.
Of course, Lord Hawkhurst was not a beast in the literal sense, but a brooding, scarred recluse somewhat fit the role. And this gloomy mansion could be a beast’s lair, Skye thought with a shiver.
Just then Hawkhurst looked up from the letter. His gaze narrowed on her as she combed her fingers through her tangled tresses. Then he said rather brusquely, “Lady Isabella’s missive falls far short of the explanation you promised. She says only that you have a request to make of me. So what do you want, Lady Skye?”
Skye hesitated, knowing she had to choose her words carefully. Naturally she could not tell him her true reason for being here for fear he would think she was stalking him. Her purpose had to remain her secret for now. Therefore, she would employ an entirely different excuse to ensure her chance to pursue the earl.
“I need you to find someone for me.”
“Who?”
“My uncle’s long lost love.”
Hawkhurst appeared dubious. “Why the devil do you think I could help?”
“Because you are an expert at solving puzzles and finding missing people. Some years ago when Lady Isabella was abducted by a Berber sheik and carried off to the mountains near Algiers, you found her and rescued her, to her immense gratitude.”
When the earl was silent, Skye offered absently, “I will pay very generously.”
That was obviously the wrong approach, for he shook his head. “My services are not for hire.”
“Then do it as a favor for my aunt.”
That argument did not appear to sway him either.
At his reticence, Skye gave a soft huff of exasperation. “You are a hero, Lord Hawkhurst. You should want to help me.”
Her claim brought a flash of genuine amusement to his features. “I am no hero.”
“You are indeed. And you belong to a secret league of heroes called the Guardians of the Sword. In fact, you are the league’s most renowned member.”
His expression suddenly became enigmatic, but his tone revealed his displeasure that so much had been revealed about him. “I expected more discretion from Bella.”
“You ought not blame her. I was quite persistent.”
That was certainly true. She had quizzed her aunt at great length about every facet of the earl’s past.
“But don’t fear,” Skye added quickly. “She told me little more than the name of your alliance of spies. I know, however, that you have a long list of commendable qualities. You are honorable, supremely clever, a
nd a leader of men. Before the tragedy struck, you were a devoted husband and father. And since then, you have risked your life countless times over and saved numerous lives.”