What You Desire (Anything for Love, Book 1) (25 page)

But then she would have a lifetime alone to do it.

Chapter 23

Sophie was in the dining room, pacing back and forth and wringing her hands when Sebastian walked in.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his tone laced with concern. “You’re not angry because of what I said, about being forced to put up with you?” He closed the door and stepped further into the room. “Because you know I didn’t mean it. I only said it to annoy your brother. Surely, you know I would not change anything about our time together.”

She could not look at him as his words had a ring of finality. “No, no it’s fine. Please, I’ll be along in a minute.”

She could hardly tell him she was so consumed with love for him, so aroused by the sight of him she could barely breathe let alone think clearly. She could not comprehend where the feelings had come from. One minute they were talking about the necklace, the next … well. Perhaps this is what happened when those with an overly passionate nature fell in love. She had felt the same way yesterday, after her meeting with Madame Labelle.

Perhaps it was because their journey was coming to an end.

Now her brother had arrived, they would not be able to continue as before. Sebastian’s swollen eye was proof of that. They would not be able to lie together. She would never feel the warmth of his skin. Never feel whole again.

He walked over to her and put his hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t,” she cried and he turned her around to face him. The heat radiating from his hand caused her body to tremble, the connection stimulating every nerve.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” His warm, brown eyes were reaching out to her, soothing her, caressing her, drawing her in until she felt giddy.

Pulling away, she barged past him and strode towards the door, in search of a distraction. Her body ached for him, her heart cried out for him. He must never discover the depth of her love; she must never say the words.

“We … we should return to the drawing room.” Her voice sounded weak, fractured.

Then he was behind her, surrounding her, pressing himself against her, his hands braced against the door. “Stay,” was the only word he said, but it hit her like a tempest, almost knocking her off her feet.

As she whirled around to protest, to plead, he was looking down at her and she could feel his breath like a soft whisper against her cheek. Helplessly, she watched as his lips came down on hers and then she was lost.

She tore frantically at his clothes in a bid to be close to him, devoured his mouth with a need more powerful than anything she’d ever felt before.

This would be the last time, she thought, the last time she would feel his touch.

She should have whispered to slow down, so she could brand it into her memory. But the need to feel him inside her obliterated every other thought.

“
My God
. This is madness,” he whispered in her ear as he secured her thighs around his waist and thrust home.

Everything became a beautiful blur. A primal urge to race for completion consumed them and in no time she was biting into his shoulder to stifle the sound of her release.

When he lowered her to her feet, he simply stared into her eyes. The rapid rise and fall of his chest was such an intoxicating sound.

“Life would never be dull with you around,” he panted.

And she felt her heart shatter in two.

After racing to her room to throw on one of Charlotte’s dresses, Sophie breezed into the drawing room as though nothing had happened. “Lord Danesfield has gone to sort out more refreshment,” she said in an attempt to reassure them as to the reason behind their absence. Deferring to his title made their relationship sound more formal. “It appears Mrs. Cox has been waylaid performing other duties.”

“Are you feeling better?” James asked, his eyes searching hers with some skepticism. Observing her more modest attire, he did not pass further comment.

Sophie considered the question.

Being in Dane’s arms had eased all of her woes, for the moment. But she would have to find some other way of bolstering her strength in his absence. Of course, she could not say that to her brother and so smiled and said, “Yes, thank you. I just needed some air. All this talk of Dampierre left me feeling a little overwrought.”

Some minutes later, Dane strode in carrying another tea tray. “Sorry for the delay,” he said placing the tray on the low table, before putting the first tray outside the door to be collected without further disturbance.

“Miss Beaufort is feeling much better now she has had some air,” Annabel informed him.

He studied Sophie, a subtle smile playing on his lips, and then said with genuine emotion, “That is good news. I hope you found my words of reassurance somewhat helpful and know I am here to support you whenever the need arises.”

Sophie tried her best not to blush as an image of Dane holding her against the dining room door, her legs wrapped tightly around him as he thrust deeply inside her, flashed through her mind. “It was extremely helpful, thank you,” she beamed, taking it upon herself to pour the tea.

James eyed Dane with some suspicion. “In your eagerness to carry the tea tray, you seem to have lost a button.”

Sebastian glanced down at his waistcoat but gave not the slightest indication the remark revealed anything other than what it ought. He placed his hand on his chest and stared down at the floor, a frown marring his brow. “No doubt, Mrs. Cox will come across it.” He moved to the hearth and poked the fire before directing his attention to James. “Now, while your room is being prepared, perhaps we should continue our discussion.”

In an attempt to disguise the feeling of utter disappointment at not having Dane to herself, at not being able to leave her room and go to him for fear of being discovered, Sophie assumed the same confused expression as her brother and Annabel.

“Oh, I’m afraid you cannot leave,” Dane continued as though guessing their thoughts. “Dampierre has had a man watching this house for the last few days. He will have seen you enter.”

James thumped the arm of the chair with his fist and muttered something incoherent. “If I had known that …” he began.

“What? You would not have bothered knocking,” Dane interrupted with a smug grin. “I’m afraid it is a little late. Perhaps it’s time to discuss our options. But I should warn you, there is really only one logical solution to the problem.”

“I cannot give him the necklace,” James announced with a steely look in his eye.

Dane smiled. “I do not want you to give him the necklace and considering the fact I’m prepared to purchase it for … oh, at least double its market value, then that is clearly no longer an option.”

James frowned and pursed his lips. “Why would you do that?”

Dane did not reply immediately. “I was forced to part with all but one of my family’s heirlooms and so the necklace would be a welcome addition. Besides,” he shrugged, “I find it extremely pleasing to the eye.”

Sophie felt a sudden stab of resentment, for she knew what such a declaration truly meant. At some point in the future, she would be forced to see her necklace draped around his wife’s neck.

James’ lips curved into the beginnings of a smile, but he did not fully commit. “Then I shall look forward to hearing what you think it is worth,” he countered.

What! Sophie screamed silently. Why had neither of them stopped for a moment to consider how she might feel about it? It was one thing to give it to Dampierre in exchange for Annabel’s freedom — Sophie could live with that. But to sell it to Dane so he could start some new tradition with his new wife … well, she would have to do something about that. Perhaps she could steal it and persuade Dampierre to accept it.

As she sat in quiet contemplation, Sophie’s mischievous eyes drifted towards Dane and then to her brother, whose countenance, for some unknown reason, had suddenly altered, his expression darkening.

Dane’s mouth twitched at the corners. “I believe you have just realised there is only one option open to us,” he said confidently, his eyes fixed firmly on James. “And so the question we must answer now is … which one of us will kill the Comte de Dampierre.”

Chapter 24

Three pairs of wide eyes stared at Sebastian in disbelief.

“There is no other way,” he said, his tone merciless. “Even if you were to speak up and make a complaint, we cannot be sure those in office are trustworthy.”

He watched as James sank his head into his hands, knowing the truth in Sebastian’s words and knowing he was the one duty-bound to perform the wicked task. Sebastian would not let him do it, of course. He would find some way to extricate him from his obligation and carry out the task himself.

“But that’s not the only reason,” he continued. “As you rightly said, you cannot allow your wife to be drawn into such a scandal. Equally, we cannot stand aside and allow such a fate to befall another innocent woman.”

There was a moment of silence while they all appeared to consider his words.

“But … but you know what it will mean if we are caught,” James stammered.

“We will not hang if that’s what you’re implying,” Sebastian countered.

Sebastian’s words were met with a sharp intake of breath. He looked to the sofa, to Annabel, who was sitting with her hand plastered to her mouth, and to Sophie, who appeared to be listening intently and did not seem the least bit alarmed by his callous words.

Sophie would make an excellent marchioness, he thought. They would have strong sons and spirited daughters. The more, the merrier. He doubted he would be able to keep his hands off her once he had her all to himself.

“Besides, we will all have an alibi,” Sebastian added with a look of smug satisfaction. “Dampierre has been kind enough to provide us with the perfect opportunity.”

As his gaze met Sophie’s, she was looking back at him with some fascination. “You mean we are to attend the masquerade ball after all?” Her speech was slow and deliberate, almost seductive, stimulating the fine hairs on his nape and he was forced to divert his thoughts away from a more intimate direction and refocus on the task at hand.

“I have never been to a masquerade,” Annabel added dreamily. Obviously, it had not occurred to her that the whole reason for attending was to commit murder.

“Believe me, they are over-rated,” Sebastian replied with a lack of enthusiasm. “There is nothing remotely exciting about dancing with someone who has the hands of a temptress, only to discover at midnight they have the face of a duck.”

He walked over to the side table, poured himself a brandy, lifted an empty glass and gestured to James, who nodded.

Taking the drink, James drained the glass and handed it back to Sebastian. “If you’re serious about this, then I cannot allow the ladies to attend,” James said shaking his head and ignoring Annabel’s disgruntled sigh.

It was as though Sebastian had just received another blow to the stomach, a fatal wound to his masculine pride. In his opinion, Sophie was his responsibility. The thought of any other man, even her own brother, laying claim to her, controlling her …

The woman in question rose from her seat, walked over to the hearth to stand at his side. She folded her arms across her chest and the simple act of defiance caused his heart to swell.

“I’m afraid I must attend,” she began, her words short and clipped. “Dampierre has given specific instructions and he will know if I am not there. I believe I can distract him sufficiently in order to get the deed done.”

“It is not your choice to make,” James replied arrogantly.

Sebastian was suddenly relieved he was only a spectator in this bout. But he knew who he would put his money on.

Moving her hands to her hips, Sophie arched a brow. “I have entertained the Comte de Dampierre in your study,” she said fiercely. “I have stared into his lifeless eyes, felt his cold, clammy hands on my skin. I have felt the tip of his sword against my throat.”

Sebastian stiffened. “You did not tell me about that,” he whispered through clenched teeth. He wondered what else she had omitted to tell him.

“So,” she continued haughtily. “I think I have earned the right to decide what is best. It is my choice and mine alone.”

As James shot to his feet, the chair close to tipping over with the force, Sebastian could not decide if his tortured expression was due to anger or shame.

Stepping forward, Sebastian placed a hand on his friends arm. “Before you say anything more, there is something I wish to discuss with you. Shall we step outside?”

Sebastian stepped in between them and James tilted his head to glare at his sister, before allowing Sebastian to steer him from the room.

As soon as they stepped out into the hall and closed the drawing room door, James whirled around to confront Sebastian. “If you are going to berate me for the way I have treated my own sister then do not bother,” James admonished with an element of vehemence, which Sebastian suspected was not entirely aimed at him and stemmed from a feeling of guilt. “Nothing you could say could possibly make me feel worse than I do at this moment,” he added, shoving his hand through his hair.