What You Desire (Anything for Love, Book 1)

by Clee, Adele

  The sound of someone tutting in mild reproof captured her attention and she turned to see a woman standing at the door.

  “You could not wait for Antoinette, no?”

  Wearing nothing more than a thin chemise, long corset, and a scandalously short petticoat, Antoinette strolled into the room as though walking down the boulevard on a sunny Parisian day. She closed the door and turned to face them, her red curls spilling over her shoulders and bouncing on the rather voluminous display of pale-white bosom.

  “Oh, it’s you, me lord,” Antoinette said, her dialect now characteristic of a wench from Whitechapel. “Well, I’d never have taken you for a Molly,” she continued, her eyes wide.

  “Give us a moment, Antoinette.” Dane pulled Sophie to the corner of the room and took her hands in his. “You need to leave us,” he whispered. “She’ll tell me nothing while you’re here. You must trust me.”

  “Do you think she knows what happened on the night James came here?”

  He nodded over Sophie’s shoulder towards Antoinette. “At the very least, she will be able to tell us about the girl. Wait for me downstairs. I’ll be along shortly.”

  “I can’t,” Sophie whispered. “Madame Labelle wishes a private audience. I think she has taken a liking to me.”

  “I would expect nothing less, Mr. Shandy,” Dane mocked. “After all, you do have the face of an angel.”

  No doubt tired of waiting, Antoinette walked over to the bed, sat down and smoothed her hands over her white stockings.

  “That is the point,” Sophie continued. “I suspect she has seen through my disguise.”

  “I do not want to cause any trouble for Antoinette. If you wish to be independent minded, then you must find a way to extricate yourself from this situation.” He leaned down and brushed his mouth against hers. “I trust you will be able to find an explanation to satisfy Madam Labelle.”

  He obviously thought her capable, and knowing he trusted her gave her confidence in her abilities.

  Besides, tonight she was Mr. Shandy.

  And Mr. Shandy knew how to let a lady down gently.

  Chapter 14

  “Pay me no heed, Mr. Shandy,” Madame Labelle said, patting Sophie’s knee as they sat next to one another on the plush red sofa. “And forgive me if I was a little presumptuous. Visitors expect a certain coarseness of character and I often get carried away playing the role.”

  “Your honesty is refreshing, madame,” Sophie replied.

  Having spent the last twenty minutes conversing about the weather, poetry, and Madame Labelle’s love of Greek-inspired furniture, Sophie had finally plucked up the courage to respond to her more pertinent questions.

  “However,” Sophie continued, “I believe I acted impulsively in coming here tonight.” Sophie stood and began pacing the room, her hands clasped behind her back in a gentlemanly fashion. “You see, I decided to accompany Dane purely as a matter of inquiry, you understand.” Sophie thought it best to remain as vague as possible whilst trying to add a modicum of honesty. All in the hope it would sound sincere.

  “Please, say no more.” Madame Labelle held her hand up in a gesture of reassurance. “I only sought to offer guidance regarding your … well, what I believed was your preference for a certain type of lady. I did not mean I would be the one providing such enlightenment.”

  A little embarrassed, Sophie nodded. “No, of course.”

  “May I tell you something, Mr. Shandy?” She did not wait for a reply. “I have met with many people over the years, too many,” she continued gazing at an imagined scene in the distance, her sorrowful expression made all the more solemn by the dim candlelight. “I’m sure it would not surprise you to hear they have not always been pleasant. Indeed, many were insolent, often debasing, and on occasion utterly vicious.” She rubbed her wrist as though alleviating an imagined pain, as though she still bore the scar. “Yet tonight is the first time, in such a long time, I have been made to feel like a lady.”

  Sophie dismissed the vivid images conjured by such a declaration and when she spoke, she did so with a warmth of feeling that reflected her compassion. “You flatter me, madame.”

  Madame Labelle stood and walked gracefully over to Sophie, taking her by the hand in a gesture one expects from a friend or companion. “I did not choose this life, it chose me. Such is the fate of some women,” she shrugged in resignation. “If you should ever find yourself in such a desperate position. If you should ever need assistance, Mr. Shandy, then please know you may call upon me here and I will welcome you.” She leaned forward, placed a kiss on Sophie’s cheek and whispered, “You are the first lady who has been kind enough to treat me as an equal.”

  Sophie gasped. “I … well, I …”

  “You think after all these years, I cannot tell the difference.” Madame Labelle raised her hand. “Let us say no more. I thank you for your company, but now I believe it is time to bid you good night, Mr. Shandy.”

  Sophie stepped away and bowed. “Thank you for such stimulating conversation. Good night, madame,” she said, before leaving the room.

  It had been rather an enlightening evening.

  A simple issue of birth was the only thing separating her fate from Madame Labelle’s. Whether one was forced to marry for wealth and station or whether one had no choice but to be a madam of a brothel, it all amounted to the same thing — compliance within the constraints of a society where men held all the power.

  Sophie considered herself lucky. There were no family members forcing her to take a husband in order to enrich the family’s bloodline. She had no interest in money, no desire to wear the latest fashions. Indeed, she would happily spend every day in the same dress, tending her cottage garden — if she could make her own choices.

  As Sophie stepped out into the hall, she was surprised to find Dane propped up against the wall, his arms folded across his chest.

  “The butler informed me you were still with Madame Labelle,” he said, his expression grave as he straightened and walked towards her. ‘‘We need to leave,” he said taking her by the elbow and practically dragging her to the door.

  “At least give me a moment to put on my hat,” she said sharply, for her emotions were running high this evening.

  They’d retrieved their hats and were walking down the street at a brisk rate before Dane spoke. “After what Antoinette has told me, it is not safe for you there.”

  Sophie was almost running to keep up with his long strides. She stopped directly under a street lamp. “I cannot keep up with you when you walk at such a pace,” she complained, slightly breathless.

  He hastened to her side, placed his hand on her elbow and directed her to a place further down the street, to where the light was more subdued. “Catch your breath here for a moment,” he said, looking back over her shoulder. “Haines will be waiting just around the corner.” He hardly gave her a moment before he cupped her elbow and began moving again. “Do not turn around,” he whispered. “I believe we are being followed.”

  Sophie gasped. “Are you certain?”

  It took every ounce of self-control she had not to turn around and gape.

  “The two men who are walking some way behind us were outside my house when we left this evening. I believe their aim is to merely gather information, else they would have had another man waiting here on the corner.”

  “How did they know we would be coming to Labelles?”

  “They must have followed my carriage. After visiting your brother’s residence, they know you’re looking for him. They obviously know he came here, so it is only logical we would do the same.” He glanced down at her, his face in partial shadow as they passed between the street lamps. His eyes were dark, unyielding, his jaw clenched in steely determination. He looked sinfully handsome and downright dangerous. “When we turn the corner, I want you to run to the carriage and don’t stop, no matter what you see or hear.”

  “What about you?” she asked, feeling a sudden pain in her chest.
<
br />   “Do not worry about me. I’ll be right behind you.”

  They turned the corner and out of view. He released her elbow, propelling her forward so she had no choice but to run towards the carriage.

  Aware of the danger, Haines did not get down from his box seat to open the door but prepared himself for a hasty departure. Sophie opened the carriage door and without dropping down the steps, vaulted into the carriage. She flung herself back against the squab, the sound of her heartbeat thumping in her ears.

  What if something happened to Dane? What if she never saw him alive again?

  The next minute passed so slowly it felt like a lifetime. Fear choked her, and she could hear her breathing coming short and fast as the carriage started rolling forward.

  Were they leaving without him?

  Her thoughts became wild and chaotic as her mind conjured all sorts of morbid images: a handsome, blood-soaked body, warm brown eyes now cloudy, opaque.

  The dull thud of footsteps pounding the pavement caught her attention and she gripped the cushioned seat as the door swung on its hinges and Dane jumped in.

  The carriage picked up speed and he slammed the door, fell back into the seat opposite and placed his hand over his heart, tapping his chest as he struggled to control his breathing.

  Her terrified gaze shot to his hand. Ruby-red rivulets of blood stained his fingers and trickled down from split knuckles. He caught her gaze and removed a handkerchief from his coat pocket, dabbed it on the torn skin and winced when he clenched his fist to admire the damage.

  “Your hand,” she panted. “What happened?”

  “It’s nothing,” he replied dismissively. “I have a rule about fleeing a scene without giving my pursuers an idea of what to expect should we ever meet again.” He flexed his fingers and she heard a bone crack. “I believe I caught one of them a little too hard on the jaw.”

  He removed his hat and placed it on the seat next to him, threw the handkerchief inside and used his good hand to run his fingers through his thick hair. A damp lock fell over his brow. He was still slightly breathless and his eyes sparkled from the exhilaration.

  It was possibly the most enthralling vision she had ever seen.

  A rush of pure physical desire flooded her senses, making her catch her breath, making her skin tingle. All she could think about was the memory of his warm mouth moving against hers, a memory she was desperate to relive.

  He glanced up at her through the shadows, evidently mistaking her heated look for one of anger. “It’s just a graze. It will heal,” he shrugged, his tone apologetic. “I was never in any —”

  “When will we be home?” Sophie interrupted, trying her best not to stumble over the words. “I mean, how long will it take?”

  He hesitated and then peered out of the window at their surroundings. “Five minutes, perhaps. Why?”

  “Would you mind pulling down your blind?” she asked, her hands trembling as she unbuttoned her coat and shrugged it off her shoulders. She folded it into a neat package and placed it on the seat with her hat.

  “Certainly, but you’ll be cold without your coat.” He leaned forward and pulled down the blind, plunging them into semi-darkness.

  She almost laughed aloud. Was he feigning naiveté? Or was she so unskilled in the art of seduction, he was missing the signs? Sophie leaned forward and pulled down her blind, too.

  “You cannot expect to sleep —”

  “Hush,” she murmured in a soft, languorous tone. “I do not want to sleep, Dane. I do not want to think or talk.”

  I want to live. I want to choose. I want to be free.

  With all the courage she could muster, she reached across and placed her hands on his knees. The hard muscles flexed beneath her fingers and she heard his sharp intake of breath. Before rational thought took over, she slid across and tumbled into his lap. “I just want to feel,” she whispered in his ear.

  He was silent for a moment and then he breathed deeply. “Then I am more than happy to oblige,” he murmured as she wrapped her arms around his neck and brushed her mouth softly against his.

  She expected him to take control, but he did not.

  Instead, he let her move her mouth across his in a slow, sensual assault that left her aching for something more. Desperate to feel the warmth of his body, she pressed herself against him letting her tongue skim lightly across the seam of his lips. Moving her hands to grip his shoulders, she turned in his lap, lifting one leg over to straddle him. His low, guttural groan of appreciation spurred her on and she claimed his mouth again, her tongue finding his in a desperate bid to stoke the flames of passion coursing through her body. She let her hands trail down over his broad chest, giddy at the feel of him, even through his clothes.

  “You do want me?” she asked, doubt creeping in.

  “I have never wanted anything more in my entire life.” His deep drawl sent her pulse racing and he placed his arm around her waist and shuffled them both to the edge of the seat. He felt hard beneath his breeches and as he pulled her closer, he rubbed against her most intimate place. “Is that not proof enough?”

  The carriage rocked back and forth as it raced along the uneven road, the movement causing her to rub against him again and again, until she felt so drunk with desire she threw her head back and whispered his name.

  “You’ve had your three minutes,” he panted. “Now it’s my turn.”

  She lifted her head and gazed into sinful brown eyes. “That only leaves you with two minutes,” she teased.

  “You will be amazed at what I can achieve in such a short time.”

  He wasted no time at all.

  Despite grazed knuckles, his nimble fingers undid the buttons on her waistcoat and he pulled her shirt up until it was free of her breeches. Placing a hand behind her neck he brought her mouth to his. He kissed her gently at first as he moved his free hand up inside the front of her shirt, his palm cupping her breast, his thumb brushing gently over her nipple.

  “Oh, Dane,” she whispered against his mouth.

  He reclined back against the seat and she followed him, her hands grabbing the lapels of his coat, clutching the material in her fists as he took her mouth in a frenzy of unadulterated passion.

  His hands drifted down to her waist and pulled her against him, and she could feel the rigid length of his arousal.

  “Just think what it will be like when we are naked … when I am pushing deep inside you,” he said as his mouth worked its way across her jaw and down her neck.

  Sophie couldn’t breathe; she couldn’t think.

  She felt hot, molten fire pulsing between her thighs, spreading through her body, building in heat and intensity. She could feel him, hard and solid through his breeches. Her skin tingled, her body trembled, desperate for something more.

  Using both hands, he grasped her hips and began moving her back and forth in rapid strokes. Instinctively, as she rubbed against him, she arched her back, thrusting herself forward, giving access for his tongue to trace her nipple in circular motions through the fine fabric of her shirt. Then her breath came in short, sharp pants as she cried out, as her body convulsed with pure pleasure.

  She collapsed in his arms and could have stayed there forever, her head on his shoulder, his strong arms clutching her close against his chest. But the carriage slowed and despite her slight embarrassment, she straightened. She was frightened to look at him, frightened she had disappointed him. After all, he had brought her pleasure and she had brought him none.

  What if she wasn’t enough for him?

  What would a mistress do that she hadn’t?

  Feeling a surge of anger at her lack of confidence, she looked up to find his head lying back against the seat, his eyes closed, his breathing still ragged. She felt another burst of desire and could not help but lean down and kiss him softly on the mouth. His eyes shot open and he pulled her closer, deepening the kiss.

  The carriage rumbled to a halt, forcing her to pull away and she moved to the se
at opposite and straightened her clothes.

  “If I’d known it was going to be like this,” she said with a coy smile, “I would have let you have the whole five minutes.”

  His mouth curved up into a wicked grin. ‘‘It’s not even midnight. Perhaps you still have an appetite for dessert.”

  Nerves threatened to push to the fore and she trampled them down. “I have suddenly developed a very large appetite,” she said, hardly recognising her own voice.

  “Then you’re in luck because I believe we have only just sampled the first course.” His smile suddenly faded and he sighed. “But we need to discuss what I discovered at Labelles.”

  She had spent the last six years preparing for this moment: for a chance to make her own choices, for a chance to prove she was more than a match for any woman. They would deal with her brother’s problem in the morning. A few hours would not make any difference.

  “What did you discover?” she asked playfully. “That two gentlemen can desire one another?”

  “Trust me, you are no gentleman. Your body is too soft, too deliciously round in all the right places.”

  She gave a feigned gasp. “How very bold of you, my lord.”

  “Oh, I’m no longer a lord. I’m a prince hoping to be ravaged by a tiger.”

  Chapter 15

  He was going to marry Sophie Beaufort.

  There, he had said it. Well, perhaps not aloud and not directly to the lady herself, but he had formed the words nonetheless.

  He glanced at the lady in question as she sauntered up the stone steps, her hips swaying in the tight breeches as she carried her coat over her arm. In fact, he was so damn smitten the words may as well have been carved into his forehead.

  Besides, he would not be able to bed her without placating his conscience. And by God, he would bury himself deep inside her even if he spent the rest of his life paying for the pleasure.