What You Desire (Anything for Love 1)
Page 57
Sebastian took a deep breath. “Or you can kill him.”
In that moment of stunned silence, Sebastian heard the patter of feet coming from the room above. James looked up and then cast him a devilish grin.
Sebastian swallowed, as his instincts told him his world was about to come crashing down around him.
Chapter 22
Having thrown on Dane’s crumpled shirt, Sophie gathered her clothes and crept back across the landing to her room.
Once inside, she walked to the armoire and hung up her garments, hoping the creases would drop out. Then she climbed into bed. There was no point trying to sleep. Her mind was like a restless sea, bombarded with one thought after another until she found herself swept away on a wave of emotion.
She had been so wrong about Dane.
Her own foolish pride had cast him in the role of villain, in the role of rake and rogue. The village gossip had been music to her ears for it had allowed her to place the blame at his door, rather than her own. Now she came to think of it, he had done nothing to warrant her censure. So he had teased her and made light of a young girl’s infatuation. It had all been in jest — but it had broken her heart.
With a deep sigh, she lay there and looked up at the canopy, wrapping her arms around her chest and hugging his shirt tighter to her body. It smelt of him: a musky masculine scent tinged with a hint of bergamot and some other wonderful fragrance she could not identify. The smell warmed her to her core and she closed her eyes and pictured him. She pictured his hair falling over his brow, his lips curved into a wicked smile, his eyes: warm, brown pools of liquid chocolate caressing her soul.
Would she be able to recall the image when she was at home and alone in her cottage? Oh, she hoped so, for it was to sustain her for many years to come.
Pushing aside the feeling of despair that crept into her heart when she thought of losing him, of living her life without him, she tried to focus on what was real and true.
She loved him.
Even if he had never spoken of his father’s misfortunes and of his battle to save his estate, she would have loved him all the same. She could not stop herself.
To men like Dane, duty would always be a priority. When he married, he would do so because it was his duty. He had said so himself on the journey from Marchampton. He was a peer of the realm and had a responsibility to secure his bloodline, to care for his estates, to make sacrifices for the greater good.
He had already proved his worth in that regard.
Men like Dane did not marry for love; they did not marry silly girls who believed themselves as strong as men — girls who gave their bodies freely without thought of the consequences. They married sensible, demure ladies who would be fitting mothers for their offspring and whose attributes were boasted about in the grandest ballrooms and salons.
They were men who made sacrifices for the sake of their titles.
Well, she would make a sacrifice, too. When the time came, she would let hi
m go. She choked back a sob, ignored the gut-wrenching emptiness that consumed her. He needed a wife with a large dowry, large enough to secure his birthright for future generations. But in the meantime, in the few days she had left, well, she would love the man with all her heart. She would worship him body and soul. She would seize every single moment and treasure it as though it were the last.
She was still lying there, staring up at nothing when there was a tap at the door.
“Come in,” Sophie mumbled weakly.
Amy popped her head around the door and walked into the room. “Sorry, I was just coming in to light the fire, miss,” Amy bobbed a curtsy. “I thought you’d be downstairs, what with your brother visiting.”
It took a moment for the words to penetrate her addled mind and then Sophie shot up. “James is here, in this house?” she asked, her tone a combination of shock and relief.
Amy looked a little confused. “Well, I think so. That’s what Mrs. Cox said.”
Sophie threw back the coverlet and jumped out of bed, ignoring the fact Amy was examining her choice of nightwear with some amusement.
“Would you mind handing me the wrapper?” Sophie said pointing to the chair and in a matter of seconds she was rushing out of the door.
“But, miss, you can’t … not like that …”
The maid’s voice trailed off into the distance as Sophie made her way downstairs, grabbing the rail for support as she almost tripped in her eagerness to be reunited with her brother. She had not even had time to put a brush through her hair.
Dane would feel the sharp edge of her tongue for not informing her sooner.
After securing the ties of her wrapper, Sophie listened at the door of the drawing room and on hearing her brother’s voice, opened the door and charged in.