Secrets of Seduction by Nicole Jordan Page B

“I met your temporary staff today and introduced myself. For propriety’s sake, I told them my aunt should arrive soon.” When Hawkhurst eyed her sharply, she hastened to add, “Don’t fear. I did not actually invite Aunt Isabella without your permission.”
    “Thank God for small favors,” he murmured.
    “I set the maids to cleaning the main rooms today. And I began inventorying the furniture to see what needs repair or replacement. I thought that if I must wait here, I might as well make productive use of my time.”
    “I trust you don’t expect to be accorded laurels for your unwanted efforts.”
    Skye ignored his sarcasm. “I see what you mean about Gilpin being frail and hard of hearing. He seems a sweet old soul, but he is not capable of heavy work with his rheumatism and aching joints. Nor can he cook well. So I asked the housekeeper to help me prepare your supper. We made a very decent meal, if I do say so myself.”
    “I said I am not hungry.”
    “But you need to eat.”
    “I ate at noonday in the stables with my grooms.”
    “That was a number of hours ago.” When he made no reply, Skye softened her tone. “I laid out the dishes in the small dining room. Please, will you not join me?”
    She could tell Hawkhurst was struggling to hold onto his temper. “Thank you, no. That room holds too many memories for me.”
    At his admission, Skye instantly felt remorseful for pressing him to relive unpleasant memories. “Then I will bring you a supper tray here.”
    “You needn’t bother.”
    “It is no bother, truly.”
    “Lady Skye,” Hawkhurst finally said in a gruff tone, “I have no need for a guardian to supervise my eating habits—or my drinking habits, either.”
    Rather than argue further, Skye temporarily retreated from the field of battle and returned belowstairs, where she prepared a plate of food to take to him. They had roasted a leg of mutton on a spit, and she added helpings of bread pudding, artichokes, and stewed pears, then arranged a tray for him and poured a mug of ale.
    Since the elderly Gilpin had retired to bed, the kitchens were deserted and quiet. When a shadow suddenly appeared behind her, Skye let out a soft shriek and whirled to face the threat. Hawkhurst had appeared in the kitchens without warning, his footfall undetectable. Rather than apologize for startling her, he seemed rather satisfied by his accomplishment.
    Her hand covering her wildly beating heart, Skye sent him an accusing glance. “You frightened me deliberately, didn’t you?”
    “It is what a busybody like you deserves.”
    “Such tactics are beneath you.”
    “You are welcome to leave if you don’t like my tactics.”
    Skye narrowed her gaze. “That is your aim, isn’t it? To be as inhospitable as possible and make me want to leave?”
    “Your powers of deduction are admirable, sweetheart.”
    She smiled. “You should know that I am not easily intimidated. I had to hold my own in a family of overbearing males.”
    “So you told me.”
    “What are you doing here in the kitchens? You said you weren’t hungry.”
    “I knew you would not give up pestering me,” he commented with a glance at the tray.
    “Would you prefer to eat here or in your study?”
    “Here will do.”
    They ate again at the servants’ dining table, as they had the previous evening. Hawkhurst seemed preoccupied, though, and barely touched his food, preferring instead to drink his ale.
    Disliking the heavy silence between them, Skye searched for something to lighten the mood. She finally settled on ribbing him.
    “I confess you are a sore disappointment, my lord. A hero should not frighten innocent women and children.”
    “You are hardly an innocent—and you continue to overestimate my heroic qualities.”
    “I don’t believe so. You are an extraordinary man.”
    Hawkhurst grimaced. “If you are trying to butter me up with false flattery, your attempts will fail.”
    Her admiration was not false flattery. Even