What You Desire (Anything for Love 1)

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 rec

eived 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.”

Sophie felt a lump form in her throat as she had not even considered the possibility. Fear and panic gripped her and she covered his hand with her own in the hope of seeking comfort. But it only served to make the feeling worse, the gesture binding them together in some inexplicable way — his hand, her hand, and some wonderful, imaginary child all together as one.