What You Desire (Anything for Love 1)

“You’re the only reckless rogue I know.”

“Well, then there’s no need to worry. As I recall, your little sighs and gasps suggest a fondness for rogues and for kissing.”

All the blood rushed to her cheeks and her tongue felt too thick to form a reply.

They covered the next mile in silence and she wished she could think of something witty to say, something to divert her attention away from the strange sensations fluttering in her stomach. The air between them crackled, the vibration stirring the soft hairs at her nape, leaving her skin tingling, leaving her breathless.

She did not look at him but became intensely aware of his gaze, on her face, on her legs, gliding over her body. It was as though it held a magical ability to scorch her skin, leaving a hot, burning trail in its wake.

She closed her eyes in a bid to banish the feeling, to eradicate the power he had over her. Once, a long time ago, she had thought herself in love with him. But she was no longer a naive girl. He would never be Lord Danesfield to her. He would always be Dane.

“Considering our current situation, I suppose I should call you Dane,” she said with feigned confidence.

“In private, you may call me Sebastian,” he replied abruptly.

“But do not all gentlemen of your acquaintance defer to your title?”

He sighed. “Loathe me to point out the obvious, but donning a pair of breeches does not make you a gentleman. Besides, only my closest friends call me Dane. My female relatives always call me Sebastian and since I’ve been forced to act as your guardian, you fall into that category.”

“I see,” she replied indignantly, for she did not want to be regarded as family.

Besides, she had not forced him to do anything and certainly did not need coddling. Not from a man who always placed his own needs above all others, a man who now had the affront to take the moral high ground.

“But what of your mistress,” she said attempting to demean his high principles. “What does she call you?” There was a bitter edge to her tone that she could not disguise.

“You are not my mistress.”

“Obviously,” she snorted, shrugging off a feeling of inadequacy. “I heard country girls bore you to tears.”

“Who told you that?”

“You did.” She turned and met his gaze and he looked puzzled. “Have you ever heard the tale of the prince and the country mouse?” she continued.

“I can’t say that I have,” he said somewhat amused.

“Well, although some thought the prince handsome, he was an extremely poor judge of character. Annoyed with the mouse, he kissed her in an attempt to frighten her away.”

“Which evidently proved to be a futile exercise,” he interjected.

“Of course. The country mouse simply transformed into a tiger and gobbled the prince right up,” she mocked.

Dane laughed. “So, it’s not enough to tease me with your wandering hands. Now, you tempt me with your lascivious analogy. I must say I shall look forward to the event with eager anticipation.”

“Sophie,” she corrected, a little confused by his reply.

“Excuse me.”

“In private, you may call me Sophie.”

He was silent for a moment, then said rather abruptly, “I think not, Miss Beaufort. I believe that pleasure is reserved for your brother and your future husband.”

“I told you, I have no intention of marrying. I believe marriage would be a somewhat tedious affair.”

Particularly if it was to you, she added silently.

He glanced across at her. “I would have thought it all depends on the person one marries. If one finds a partner capable of keeping alight the inner flame, then I do not doubt there are many pleasures to be found in marriage.”

Sophie snorted. “Do not tell me you believe in such nonsense, that you of all people desire marriage.”