But Quinn, I think you will have Pygmalion and Galatea. You know, the Greek myth depicted in Ovid’s
Metamorphoses
, where a sculptor comes to love his ivory creation so deeply that the gods take pity on him and bring her to life.”
Quinn inclined his head while eyeing her narrowly. “I know the tale, but you have gone stark raving mad if you think I will fall in love with a statue.”
While Ash chuckled, Jack chimed in. “Yes, it’s clear our dear Kate is suffering from a brain fever. I hope it isn’t catching.”
“I cannot believe my own flesh and blood is so craven,” Kate retorted. “You are not behaving like Wildes at all. You know that we prefer to take fate into our own hands rather than have it act upon us. It is up to
us
to shape our own destinies. I am willing to help, but I can only do so much. For my theory to work, you each have to be responsible for meeting your match and making your particular tale come true.”
When no one replied to her suggestion, she gave a huff of exasperation. “What do you have to lose? Treat my mad idea as a game, if you like. Or a challenge. You have always relished a challenge, Ash. All I am asking is that each of you have one significantencounter with your possible match. Then you can decide whether to pursue your legend further.”
Ash wouldn’t mention that he’d already had a significant encounter with Maura this evening … one that had led to a heated embrace and roused his primal male instincts with a vengeance. He’d unwittingly played right into Kate’s hands, and he wasn’t inclined to continue any further, out of sheer stubbornness if nothing else.
Before he could refuse, however, Quinn claimed Katharine’s attention by rising and planting a light kiss on her temple. “If we are quite done … I shall leave it to Ash to be your test subject. Like Jack, I have an early morning.”
Jack also got to his feet, but he patted Kate’s shoulder in an avuncular way meant to provoke her. “If you expect me to play along, sweet shrew, you will have to come up with a better tale for me.” He looked to Ash. “Let us know what you discover, brother.”
The two men excused themselves, with Quinn striding out purposefully and Jack strolling more slowly while shaking his head in disbelief.
Skye sent Kate an apologetic smile. “I, for one, am very curious to see if your theory works.” True to form, Skye was the only one who was remotely interested in following Kate’s lead.
Across the library, Lord Cornelius gave a sudden snort and stirred, then settled back down in his chair.
“Uncle Cornelius needs to go to bed,” Skye said softly.
Skye was most tenderhearted of all the Wilde cousins, although more than capable of stirring up herown lively brand of mischief. She rose and crossed to the hearth, where she gently woke their slumbering relative.
Cornelius sat up, blinking and fumbling for his spectacles. Now over sixty, with thinning hair that was turning silver, he had the tall, refined build and high-boned features of an aristocrat, but a vague, unfocused air that belied the fact that he was actually a brilliant scholar.
Cornelius was the only one of the Wildes in his generation who had never known a passionate love, as his cousins and brothers and only sister—Jack’s mother, Lady Clara—had done. It was ironic that even though Cornelius had never married, he had wound up raising their five orphaned children.
When he caught sight of Katharine, he offered sheepishly, “Forgive me for sleeping through your ball, my dear, but I know you and Ashton had it well in hand.”
“You are forgiven, Uncle,” she said sweetly. “Especially since you were the inspiration behind my plan to find our perfect matches. I was just telling Ash about his legendary tale.”
“Well … yes, very good …” Cornelius said awkwardly, looking around for the nearest door. He might have provided the literary framework for Kate’s plotting, but he clearly
Metamorphoses
, where a sculptor comes to love his ivory creation so deeply that the gods take pity on him and bring her to life.”
Quinn inclined his head while eyeing her narrowly. “I know the tale, but you have gone stark raving mad if you think I will fall in love with a statue.”
While Ash chuckled, Jack chimed in. “Yes, it’s clear our dear Kate is suffering from a brain fever. I hope it isn’t catching.”
“I cannot believe my own flesh and blood is so craven,” Kate retorted. “You are not behaving like Wildes at all. You know that we prefer to take fate into our own hands rather than have it act upon us. It is up to
us
to shape our own destinies. I am willing to help, but I can only do so much. For my theory to work, you each have to be responsible for meeting your match and making your particular tale come true.”
When no one replied to her suggestion, she gave a huff of exasperation. “What do you have to lose? Treat my mad idea as a game, if you like. Or a challenge. You have always relished a challenge, Ash. All I am asking is that each of you have one significantencounter with your possible match. Then you can decide whether to pursue your legend further.”
Ash wouldn’t mention that he’d already had a significant encounter with Maura this evening … one that had led to a heated embrace and roused his primal male instincts with a vengeance. He’d unwittingly played right into Kate’s hands, and he wasn’t inclined to continue any further, out of sheer stubbornness if nothing else.
Before he could refuse, however, Quinn claimed Katharine’s attention by rising and planting a light kiss on her temple. “If we are quite done … I shall leave it to Ash to be your test subject. Like Jack, I have an early morning.”
Jack also got to his feet, but he patted Kate’s shoulder in an avuncular way meant to provoke her. “If you expect me to play along, sweet shrew, you will have to come up with a better tale for me.” He looked to Ash. “Let us know what you discover, brother.”
The two men excused themselves, with Quinn striding out purposefully and Jack strolling more slowly while shaking his head in disbelief.
Skye sent Kate an apologetic smile. “I, for one, am very curious to see if your theory works.” True to form, Skye was the only one who was remotely interested in following Kate’s lead.
Across the library, Lord Cornelius gave a sudden snort and stirred, then settled back down in his chair.
“Uncle Cornelius needs to go to bed,” Skye said softly.
Skye was most tenderhearted of all the Wilde cousins, although more than capable of stirring up herown lively brand of mischief. She rose and crossed to the hearth, where she gently woke their slumbering relative.
Cornelius sat up, blinking and fumbling for his spectacles. Now over sixty, with thinning hair that was turning silver, he had the tall, refined build and high-boned features of an aristocrat, but a vague, unfocused air that belied the fact that he was actually a brilliant scholar.
Cornelius was the only one of the Wildes in his generation who had never known a passionate love, as his cousins and brothers and only sister—Jack’s mother, Lady Clara—had done. It was ironic that even though Cornelius had never married, he had wound up raising their five orphaned children.
When he caught sight of Katharine, he offered sheepishly, “Forgive me for sleeping through your ball, my dear, but I know you and Ashton had it well in hand.”
“You are forgiven, Uncle,” she said sweetly. “Especially since you were the inspiration behind my plan to find our perfect matches. I was just telling Ash about his legendary tale.”
“Well … yes, very good …” Cornelius said awkwardly, looking around for the nearest door. He might have provided the literary framework for Kate’s plotting, but he clearly
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