What You Desire (Anything for Love, Book 1)

by Clee, Adele

  Sophie was so relieved to see him she could not speak. He looked healthy and happy and she had never been more pleased to see anyone in her entire life. She flung her arms around his neck and hugged him, much to the astonishment of the lady sitting on the sofa.

  He returned her affection with a warm embrace, but when he kissed her on the cheek, she felt him stiffen. He reached for her hands, as they were still clasped around his neck, and pulled them down before stepping back to examine her. He was silent for a moment as his blue eyes flitted from her lips to her hair, to her wrapper and then back to her lips.

  He lifted a ringlet and held it to his nose. “You smell of him,” he said, his words heavy with disdain.

  Sophie glanced over her brother’s shoulder towards Dane. He stood there, his body hard and rigid, as though preparing for a sudden impact.

  “His smell is all over you, on your skin, in your hair.” James spun around to face Dane. “What the hell have you done to her?”

  He did not wait for a reply but charged across the room, muttering something through clenched teeth before his fist landed with the force of a hammer on his friend’s jaw.

  “No!” Sophie screamed as she watched Dane stumble back into the chair. James punched him once more and then lifted him up by the scruff of his shirt and dragged him onto the floor.

  Dane took another punch to the face and another to the stomach, causing him to draw his legs up to his chest and roll onto his side. Yet still he made no protest.

  Why was he not fighting back? Sophie could not understand it. He was more than capable of fending off the attack, even if he did not wish to throw a punch himself.

  “Get up,” James spat.

  “Stop this,” Sophie cried, dropping to her knees and throwing herself across Dane to prevent her brother from delivering another blow. She had never seen him so enraged.

  “Get off him,” James growled as he grabbed Sophie by the arm to pull her away.

  Dane raised his head off the ground, his eyes hard and unforgiving. “You may hit me all you want,” he spluttered, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. “But you will take your damn hands off her.”

  Annabel stepped forward and grabbed her husband’s arm. “What’s the matter with you? You have not even given him a chance to explain. What if you have got this all wrong?”

  “Look at them,” he scoffed as he pointed to the floor. “It is obvious for all to see. Why do you think he let me hit him? He knows what he’s done.”

  Sophie got to her feet. With her back to her brother, she bent down to help Dane stand. She hadn’t noticed her wrapper had come undone and when she took Dane’s arm and turned to face her brother, he was staring at the crumpled shirt, staring at her bare legs. Following James’ gaze, Dane reached across and drew the wrapper together.

  “I am going to bloody well kill you,” James said annunciating every word, his eyes a penetrating ice-cold blue.

  Dane stepped in front of Sophie, perhaps to shield her, perhaps by way of accepting the challenge. “My God, you’re a walking monument to hypocrisy and yet you have the audacity to judge me,” Dane retorted. “Tell me, where were you when Dampierre came knocking on your sister’s door. When he threatened her, when she rode to London on that beast of a horse all in the hope of saving you,” he hissed. “I’ll tell you where you were, getting bloody married!”

  Sophie gasped. She moved to stand at Dane’s side and stared at her brother. “You’re married?”

  James’ face turned ashen as he shuffled uncomfortably, ignoring her question. “Dampierre came to Brampton Hall?”

  “You left her. You left her for weeks without so much as a word.” Dane stepped forward and poked his finger in his friend’s chest. “And then you have the gall to come here and wave your fists about.” He looked at James as though he was the worst kind of scoundrel. “You may be the hero of one woman’s story,” he added, sarcasm dripping from every word. “But you failed in your duty to protect the only woman who should have mattered to you.”

  James looked taken aback. “Duty,” he faltered. “You dare speak to me of duty.”

  “She came to me,” Dane shouted, stabbing a finger at his own chest. “She came to me and I was duty bound to accept.”

  James took a step forward, stood toe to toe with his friend, their noses almost touching. “That does not give you the right to —”

  “Stop it,” Sophie yelled again, for she could not bear to listen to all this talk of duty and responsibility. Why could Dane not have said that he wanted to help her? That he was driven by some unexplainable desire. She turned to Annabel. “You’re married?”

  “Forgive me. I have not had the chance to formally introduce you,” James interceded.

  Annabel’s smile lit up her entire face. “We were married yesterday, by special license,” she nodded.

  It was a look of genuine happiness and Sophie felt a small stab of jealousy, which she instantly dismissed. In truth, she was delighted for them. Really, to see her brother alive and well and married, words could not describe the joy she felt. “How wonderful,” she said, clasping her hands to her chest.

  “Does anyone mind if I sit down?” Dane asked with a deep sigh, throwing himself down on the sofa.

  James scowled. “I have not finished with you.”

  “Nor I with you,” Dane replied with a smirk and a raised brow but then winced and dabbed the cheekbone under his left eye.

  “Perhaps we should all sit,” Annabel suggested. “Sophie you sit here with me,” she continued, casting James a mollifying glance as she took the seat next to Dane, leaving Sophie to squash in beside her.

  James looked at the three of them, shook his head and then sat in the chair.

  Whether the uncomfortable silence caused James to consider the fact that he was indeed a hypocrite, or whether he was desperate to prove a point to Dane, Sophie could not decide. Even so, James found it necessary to offer some explanation for his recent attachment.

  “Sophie,” James began, looking down his nose at Dane before turning his attention to his sister. “I want you to know, our marriage is … well … what I’m trying to say is that Annabel and I love one another.” He stressed the word love and flicked Dane another irritated glare. “And although —”

  “You mean you’re the Annabel?” Sophie rudely interrupted, turning to face her sister-in-law with some surprise. “The one who escaped from Labelles?”

  Annabel’s face flushed. She glanced down into her lap and fumbled with her fingers. “Please do not think ill of me. I did not go there of my own volition.” She looked up into Sophie’s eyes. “You see, I was hired by the Comte de Dampierre to act as governess to his three children. Only, he did not have any children and instead I found myself a prisoner in his house.” She swallowed deeply. “Had it not been for James, I am sure I would have been forced to,” she paused and shook her head, “I’m sure you know what sort of a house it is,” she added solemnly.

  Sophie did not have the heart to tell her she was wrong. Her fate would have been far worse than she could ever have imagined. She would have been sold and transported abroad to some godforsaken place, where the price was high for girls with fair skin and innocent eyes. Of course, she had not told Dane that little bit of information because he would overreact and then they would argue and she did not want to waste time doing that. There were far more pleasurable ways to spend time in his company.

  Shuddering at the thought of what it must have been like to be lured away by the Comte de Dampierre, Sophie said, “You must have been terrified.” She placed her hands over Annabel’s and gave them a reassuring pat. “Well, you are safe now and must not worry about it anymore,” she continued with some optimism, aware that Dane’s expression could best be described as deeply cynical.

  Annabel looked up at Sophie, her eyes also filled with doubt. “But we have just heard that Dampierre wants the necklace and I know James will refuse to give it to him.”

  “I’ll be damned
before I’ll give that reprobate anything,” James declared with an air of superiority.

  “Then why offer it in the first place?” Dane complained. “What did you expect?”

  “It wasn’t me,” James blurted sounding like a naughty schoolboy. “It was Monty. You know how he gets. I’d made the mistake of telling him my reasons for coming to town,” he shrugged. “He thought it was all some sort of joke, thought I was in my cups when I offered Madame Labelle five hundred pounds for Annabel.” With pursed lips, he gave his wife an apologetic nod of the head.

  Annabel cast him a reassuring smile. “Monty was not aware I had passed a note to James explaining my dilemma and begging for his help.”

  Dane cleared his throat. “Perhaps Dampierre is not as clever as he would have us believe.” When they all looked at him with rather mystified expressions, he clarified, “to allow you access to paper and ink.”

  Annabel sat up straight, her eyes wide. “Oh, it was Madame Labelle who gave me the paper and urged me to write the note. She said my escape must appear credible. That is why she could not take the necklace.”

  Sophie and Dane both sat forward with wide-eyed expressions and directed their question to Annabel. “Madame Labelle helped you escape?” they said in unison.

  Annabel nodded. “I climbed out of the bedchamber window. Madame Labelle helped me to tie the sheets and James was waiting for me at the bottom.” She glanced over to her husband with a look of pride and adoration.

  Dane was still gaping, but Sophie was not surprised. Deep down, she knew Madame Labelle was an honourable woman who, where possible, would see justice done. In this instance, she had risked her neck, quite literally, to save an innocent girl and Sophie felt a sudden urge to do something, anything to rid her of Dampierre for good.

  “Did you know about this?” Dane asked as he met her gaze.

  Sophie shook her head. “No, of course not!”

  He seemed to take no comfort from her answer. “You mean to tell me, during the thirty minutes you paraded about in Leicester Square, she never even mentioned it, never even hinted at the possibility?”

  “No,” Sophie replied bluntly.

  James appeared aghast. “You met with Madame Labelle, in a public place, for all to see?”

  “I did not meet with her,” Sophie replied with an air of hauteur. “Mr. Shandy did.” She offered him a satisfied smile as though that should be explanation enough.

  James held his chin in his hand. “I’m confused.”

  “Now you see what I have been forced to put up with,” Dane snorted. “Perhaps it is I who should be punching you.”

  Sophie folded her arms across her chest. “I am still here,” she sighed, wondering why he made it sound as though he’d had no choice in the matter. It was not as if she’d forced him follow her. “Trust me, it has been just as much of a hardship for me.”

  It had not been a hardship at all.

  On the contrary, she had loved every single minute of it. She sat back on the sofa and studied Dane’s profile. The sight of him almost caused her to sigh. It was not right that a man should be so handsome, or be allowed to sit in drawing rooms and cause no end of distraction with his firm jaw and wicked mouth. Even the swelling below his eye and the cut to his lip made him appear all the more striking, all the more dangerous, all the more lovable.

  How on earth was she going to live without him?

  Why such an unsolicited thought should choose to pop into her head, she didn’t know. But rather than dampen her desire, it merely served to inflame it. He was here, in the room, right now. If she stretched out her hand, she could touch him. He was not lost to her, not yet.

  She was suddenly overcome with the need to feel his mouth on hers, to feel the warmth of his body pressing against her, reassuring her. Desire grew. The feeling claimed her, spread rapidly through her body, robbing her of all rational thought.

  Completely oblivious to her predicament, Dane said to the group, “Perhaps we should return to the question of the necklace.”

  But she could not focus on anything as she was consumed by an overwhelming need for him, a need so intense it was painful. “If you will excuse me,” Sophie whispered as she stood. “I shall be back in a moment.” If she could just get some air, she thought, angry at herself for being such a slave to her emotions. She was going to have to learn how to deal with these exaggerated feelings.

  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 atte
mpt 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.”