What You Desire (Anything for Love, Book 1) (26 page)

In response, Sebastian simply said, “Good.”

“How the hell was I to know Dampierre would travel all the way to Brampton Hall?”

“She could have been killed,” Sebastian replied with a low growl. The thought caused a searing pain in his chest. “She could have been the one locked in the room of that brothel.” Although knowing Sophie, she would have rallied all the girls together and found a way to take down Dampierre.

“Do you think I don’t know that,” James spat as he paced back and forth. “But you saw for yourself, she is so damn stubborn.”

Sebastian grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him further down the hall. “She is not safe until we dispose of Dampierre,” he whispered.

James appeared distressed. “It is one thing to unwittingly place someone you care for in danger, but to do so knowingly — you cannot ask that of me.”

In any other circumstance, Sebastian would have agreed with him. The thought of placing Sophie in any danger felt like a knife to his heart. But he truly believed that while Dampierre was alive, both ladies were in grave danger.

“Do you not think I feel the same? I want to marry her, James.”

James scoffed. “After the way you have behaved I would not be satisfied anything less. I still have an overwhelming desire to rip you limb from limb. But as you rightly said, that would make me a hypocrite. Perhaps I should be grateful to you for taking her off my hands. I’m sure by now you know what it is you’re letting yourself in for.”

Sebastian considered his words. As a young girl, Sophie had been bothersome, annoying, and persistent in her methods to engage his attention. As a woman, he found her captivating, bewitching, utterly enthralling. She was constantly in his thoughts, in his dreams. From the moment she had tumbled from her horse and into his arms, he had not been able to keep his hands off her. Indeed, he appeared to be in a constant state of arousal.

“I’m in love with her,” he blurted almost choking on the words, as it suddenly occurred to him that a life without her was not worth living.

James patted him on the shoulder, his mouth curved into a smile that suggested a level of empathy. “Once you are married, perhaps we should start a new club. One for men who are hopelessly in love with their wives.”

Sebastian scoffed. “Somehow, I have the feeling it may take more than a declaration to secure your sister’s hand.”

“How you choose to go about it is your affair, but I would see a ring on her finger,” he arched a brow, “and soon.”

Sebastian nodded in acquiesce. “Now, as to this matter of the masquerade,” he stopped abruptly, noting the disapproving look on James’ face. “Please, just listen to what I have to say,” he appealed. “Ask yourself this. If you could go back to that night at Labelles, walk away and erase it from your memory, would you do so? Knowing the danger you have placed us all in … would you … would you change it?”

James looked down at the floor as he considered the question. He glanced up at Sebastian, and with a deep sigh whispered, “No, I would not change a damn thing.”

Sebastian placed a firm hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Then let us retire to the drawing room so I may tell you my plan.”

The following evening they were back in the drawing room, waiting for Sophie to dress for the masquerade. This time, James sat next to Annabel on the sofa, his arm draped around her shoulder, relating stories of Sophie’s childhood infatuation with Sebastian.

“She used to hide behind the curtain, just to hear his voice,” James chuckled. “You knew when she was there, for there was always one large eye peeking through the gap. But now look at him,” James continued, waving a hand in Sebastian’s direction. “It appears the roles are reversed and it is my poor friend who paces the floor, pining like a puppy.”

“I am not pining. I am simply eager to see what costume Dampierre wishes her to wear,” he countered. Although he could not deny that his mouth was dry with anticipation. A whole day had passed since he had last held her in his arms and both his mind and his body seemed to be persecuting him for the fact. “The design will reveal much in terms of Dampierre’s intentions and I must impress the memory into my mind. So I may find her if we are separated in the crush,” he added, pleased he could find a plausible reason to explain the desperate longing that consumed him and was obviously apparent to others.

“I hope you’re not expecting her to be able to find you,” James mocked, scanning his attire. “Half of the guests will be wearing the same black tricorn and domino.”

Sebastian sighed. That was the idea. He needed to be able to move about unnoticed. He wondered if Dampierre had considered that fact when he had chosen Sophie’s costume. Sophie had refused to let him see it, even when he had explained the practicality of his request.

“I believe you’ll look rather dangerous with your mask on,” Annabel said with a blush. “If I were wearing jewels, I might throw them at you for fear of my life.”

Sebastian shook his head at their joviality. Had they forgotten the purpose of the evening? Perhaps it was their way of dealing with anxiety, for James had been agitated when Sebastian had told him he must stay at home with Annabel. If they were discovered at the masquerade and their story revealed, then their guilt would be assumed.

“Speaking of jewels,” James said in a more serious tone, “I presume Sophie is wearing the necklace.”

“It is necessary in order to fool …”

As the drawing room door opened, all conversation ceased.

In walked what could only be described as an ethereal vision from a bygone era. James and Sebastian stood, their mouths hanging open in awe. Sebastian hardly recognised her.

Against the white powdered wig, which was woven with gold thread, her face was as pale as porcelain, enhancing the fullness of her rosy pink lips. The gown of red and gold taffeta was heavily boned. The deep, plunging neckline pushed up her breasts so they appeared as soft creamy-white mounds, so deliciously tempting that he could not take his eyes off them.

“Well, how do I look?” she asked, her eyes alight with excitement as she gave a little twirl and held the mask to her face.

Sebastian was afraid to speak for fear his voice would expose the depth of his arousal. Dampierre was not a stupid man. Sophie would be like a bright beacon in the crowd.

“You look so beautiful,” Annabel said clapping her hands in delight. “You look as though you should live in the palace of Versailles, with courtiers waving fans and bowing at your feet.”

Sophie met Sebastian’s gaze and she smiled. “Would you mind fastening this for me?” she asked holding out the necklace.

As she walked over to him, he held out his hand, hoping she would not notice the slight tremble in his fingers. She turned around, her long, elegant neck just inches from his lips and as he leaned forward to drape the necklace around her throat, his mouth brushed against her ear.

“You have no idea how much I want you,” he whispered as he imagined his hand wandering lower, dipping down into the front of her bodice to skim the soft flesh, to take the peak between his fingers and rub until she begged for relief. Her hand came up to her throat to hold the necklace in place and he took pleasure in the knowledge that her fingers were shaking, too.

With the clasp fastened, she moved to walk away, but he pulled her to his side, the fall of her gown disguising the hard length straining against his breeches.

James stood, walked over to his sister and kissed her on the cheek. “You look wonderful,” he said, his eyes flitting over her gown before settling on the ruby necklace. “I remember our mother wearing this,” he said, his words soft and tender, “but it looks even more spectacular on you. It seems to glisten more brightly and the rubies appear to be a richer shade of red. It is as though it was made for you.”

Sophie reached up and placed her hand on her brother’s cheek. “Thank you,” she muttered softly. There was a moment when she stared into her brother’s eyes as if she was considering how best to say goodbye, should she fail to return. “I am so pleased you’re safe and happy,” she said her voice brimming with emotion. “And do not worry. Dane will look after me.”

As Sophie moved to hug Annabel, Sebastian knew he was still not in any state one would call respectable. Perhaps because he had been having visions of her wearing the necklace. Only there were no clothes in his vision. He whipped his domino around him in such an exaggerated fashion it would have received a round of applause had he been on stage.

James walked over and gripped his shoulder. “Have a care,” he said, his face solemn as he stepped back. “Although you will not look half as dangerous if you continue to swirl your cape in such a fashion. You’ll have all the dandies queuing up for an encore.”

Chapter 25

Lord Delmont’s mansion house in Portman Square was a hive of activity, as carriage after carriage barged and jostled their way for a coveted place in the queue.

Sophie stared at the scene in wonder.

A warm, orange light blazed forth from every window, illuminating the parade of exotic guests: an oriental princess, a Greek goddess, a butterfly with life-size wings, who had all chosen to walk into the square rather than suffer any further delay.

“Lord Delmont is renowned for his extravagance,” Dane said with exasperation as he glanced out of the carriage window. “He is always seeking new and novel ways to amuse his guests and so I fear it will be rather a crush.”

He spoke with a jaded view of such events, Sophie noted, as though he took no pleasure from the normal pursuits sought by other members of the aristocracy.

“With no formal announcement being made, we will struggle to locate Dampierre,” he continued as he stared across at her, his gaze scanning her costume before settling on the ruby necklace. “Yet, he will know the exact moment we enter.”

Sophie liked the way he looked at her: the slow predatory gaze roaming over her from head to toe, warming her body and soul, even on a chilly night such as this. When his eyes lingered on the necklace, she felt triumphant. It did not matter who wore it now. She felt confident he would always associate it with her.

A part of her wanted to thank Dampierre. His costume had provided the means for her to show another side of herself: a more refined and sophisticated side. But, amongst all the excitement, she had almost forgotten the true purpose of the evening.

They were going to kill a man.

The thought weighed heavily upon her. Did anyone truly deserve to die in such a manner? Would their lives be forever tainted, forever defined by this one evil act?

“We … we must be on our guard,” she said. It was her fault Dane was involved. But if he did not rid them of Dampierre, they would be forever plagued by fear and so she had to do everything in her power to help him. “We cannot afford to be distracted from our purpose.”

“Are you nervous?” he asked and she noticed the faint tremor in his voice. “Do you fear seeing Dampierre again?”

“No,” she replied softly. Indeed, during the last few days she had learned much about Dampierre. The depth of his depravity made it easier for her, as she could not rouse emotion for a man capable of such wickedness. “I do not worry about myself,” she said upon reflection.

He gave her an empathetic smile, as though he knew the feeling well.

“Tell me,” she continued, “have you ever killed a man?” There was a tremble in her voice she could not disguise. She was afraid of the answer, of what it might reveal. Would it change her view of him?

He lowered his head, his gaze locked on some invisible point on the floor. “Yes,” he answered solemnly, as though the word was a thick, iron chain around his neck. He looked up at her, searching her face. “We were in France, Dudley and I … we were ambushed. It was a case of kill or be killed.” There was something cold and clinical about his reply and she wondered if he’d spent sleepless nights justifying it to himself. “I am not proud of it,” he shrugged. “But when there is a chance someone you care for may get hurt, you must do whatever is necessary.”

And he was going to kill another man tonight ... for her.

It was not guilt she felt. It was fear. What if something should go wrong? What if something should happen to Dane?

Racked by the sudden urge to declare her love, she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. If life were simpler, she would stand on the roof of the carriage and shout out for all to hear. But she must never say the words, as she suspected, in light of their intimate relations, he would feel duty bound to offer for her.

“I understand,” she whispered, straining to hold the words at bay. Yet she felt she should say something to express her feelings. “Because I would kill … I would kill for you.”

He moved across the carriage, pushing aside the voluminous mounds of fabric to sit next to her, taking her hand in his. “And I would fight the whole world to save you,” he replied tenderly. Tilting her chin, he brushed his lips lightly across hers, then took her in his arms and kissed her deeply.

It was different from other kisses they’d shared. The tendency for lasciviousness often overwhelmed them. But this kiss … this kiss reached out to her heart, sang to her soul.

“If anything should go wrong,” he panted as he broke away from her. “I want you to go to Dudley.” His hand moved down from her shoulder to rest on her stomach. “And if you are carrying my child,” he sighed, his voice tinged with sorrow as though he was already grieving the loss. “Dudley will take care of you … of you both.”