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and Traherne town residences,he couldn’t escape his prying relatives for long.
    Nor could he escape their schemes.
    Jack had been genuinely amused to see Ash made the victim of Kate’s matchmaking these
     past few months, but being the target himself wasn’t nearly as enjoyable. Particularly
     when two determined Wilde females ganged up on him at once. Evidently, Skye was once
     again determined to corner him, this time in his own drawing room.
    As expected, Skye had made herself comfortable and was curled up on a sofa with a
     book. Her delicate loveliness, along with her pale gold hair and wide blue eyes, gave
     her something of an angelic appearance but concealed her high-spirited, mischievous
     nature.
    When she looked up with an anticipatory smile, Jack cut her off with a peremptory
     question. “Why the devil are you here so late? It is nearly two o’clock in the morning.”
    “You know why. I want a report on your encounter with Miss Fortin. I understand you
     attended her aunt’s masquerade this evening.”
    “You could have waited until morning to interrogate me.”
    “No, I could not,” Skye replied sweetly. “I would have been too excited to sleep,
     not knowing the outcome.”
    “Far be it from me to disturb your beauty rest,” he drawled.
    Skye closed her book with a decided air of resolve. “Jack, are you going to tell me
     what happened or not?”
    “Do I have a choice?”
    “No. You know I will not leave until you satisfy my rabid curiosity.”
    Jack gave another exaggerated sigh, but she ignored his hint that her presence was
     unwanted.
    “Very well,” he relented. “But come to the kitchens with me. I won’t hold this discussion
     on an empty stomach.”
    Giving a sage nod, Skye rose and followed him below stairs to the large kitchen. Jack
     often had hunger pangs at odd hours, but his cook was well aware of his habits and
     thus kept a plentiful supply of leftovers handy.
    Upon raiding the cellar, Jack unearthed a roasted chicken leg and poured himself an
     ale. Skye, however, declined his offer of refreshments and sat at the servants’ table
     across from him, as if prepared for a long siege. “So what happened at the masquerade?”
    “I fulfilled my promise to meet Miss Fortin,” he answered.
    “I was right, was I not? She is no milquetoast.”
    “No, she is not,” Jack agreed grudgingly.
    “I told you so,” Skye crowed. “Then you like her, Jack?”
    Jack took a quaff of ale to avoid answering. He’d been prepared to dislike Sophie
     Fortin out of sheer self-defense, but the exact opposite had occurred. And when he’d
     deliberately set out to discomfit her by challenging her to a kiss, his plan had utterly
     backfired.
    He’d been rocked by the intensity of his body’s reaction. Sophie was all woman, and
     her sweetly passionate response to his kiss had brought out theprimitive, possessive male in him. Jack felt another stark tug of desire now, just
     thinking of her.
    His sister’s lunatic theory was not so laughable after all, Jack conceded, and might
     even have a modicum of merit—although wild horses couldn’t drag that admission out
     of him at the moment. Not when Skye was looking so smugly triumphant.
    Jack sidestepped her query by restating a previous objection. “Kate’s scheme to have
     us play Montague and Capulet is completely deranged.”
    “I disagree,” Skye declared. “You saw how right she was about Ash. His romance with
     Maura proved that the theory works—using classic tales to find our own true loves.
     Ash and Maura are perfect for each other.”
    Jack couldn’t refute that claim after seeing his brother with his new wife. The raw
     devotion in Ash’s eyes when he looked into Maura’s was unmistakable.
    “You know they are deliriously happy, Jack. That could be you and Sophie someday.”
    He refrained from commenting, reluctant to acknowledge his subversive thoughts. In
     truth, the possibility that Sophie was his legendary lover