What You Desire (Anything for Love 1)

“Is that any way to speak to your host, to the man who has excelled in affording you every pleasure, in giving you what you desire?”

There was another loud bang, followed by a stream of twinkling lights falling from the sky. The crowd surged forward as they clapped and jeered to show their appreciation.

“Then you have failed in your task, Lord Delmont. What I desire, is to be returned to the arm of my chaperone.”

Lord Delmont breathed deeply. “Your tongue is like the lash of a whip. Perhaps that’s what others find so appealing.”

As the crowd moved again, Sophie took the opportunity to turn around only to find herself practically pressed against the chest of her host. He was much taller than she expected and she looked up to see a mop of golden hair spilling over a black mask and a pair of ice-blue eyes lacking any emotion. “Excuse me,” she said, edging to the left. “I fear I am in need of more stimulating company.”

Before she could move any further, he swept his arm around her back and anchored her to his body. “Imagine my shock,” he said with some amusement, his breath tickling her cheek, his eyes fixed on the bodice of her gown, “to find I have only had but a glimpse of those delicate treasures, yet I am still highly aroused.”

She struggled against him but could not slacken his grip. She thought of shouting out for Dane, but she doubted he would hear her. Besides, she did not want to draw attention to his identity. “You do not frighten me, Lord Delmont. Indeed, I find your manner rather crass for my tastes.”

Lord Delmont threw his head back and laughed, but no one paid him the slightest attention. “You find me vulgar, how amusing.” He studied her for a moment. “Now, as much as I’m enjoying our little game, I fear there is a matter of business to attend to. If you would care to follow me, I believe your uncle is waiting.”

Sophie raised a brow. “Would he happen to be my uncle from France?” she asked, trying to dismiss the deep sense of foreboding. Things were not going to plan, but that was not surprising. If she left with Lord Delmont, then Dane would not need to kill Dampierre and she would be forced to give him the necklace. She considered her position. If she went with Lord Delmont, Dane would be safe and she would never be subjected to the torture of seeing another woman wearing her necklace.

“I believe it is. And he seems most eager to be reunited,” Lord Delmont replied. He swallowed deeply, his eyes wandering over her body as though she was a ripe peach and he had not eaten for weeks.

“Then I do not wish to disappoint him,” she remarked with icy composure.

“I doubt you would disappoint any man,” Delmont drawled as he pushed his way through the throng, guiding her towards a cluster of trees running along the bottom of the garden. “I am most bereft that I will not get to experience you, personally. But you see money has always been my first love and I’m afraid my purse has suffered a fatal blow and is in desperate need of resuscitation.”

Delmont led her to a small wooden door leading out into the mews, where an unmarked carriage was waiting. As they approached, the door of the carriage swung open and the Comte de Dampierre climbed out. Gripping his cane firmly in his right hand, he turned to greet them.

With wide eyes, Dampierre placed his left hand over his heart and exclaimed, “Let me congratulate you, Miss Beaufort, for you look … exquisite … just as I expected.” He bowed his head respectfully and then removed his gold pocket watch, flicked open the case and studied it under the carriage lamp. “Soon it will be midnight,” he said, placing the watch back into the pocket of his waistcoat. “I am pleased to see you are true to your word. I do so appreciate honesty in all things.”

Sophie should have felt terrified, but instead she looked upon the comte with a degree of superiority and when she gave a half-hearted curtsy, she hoped her disdain was evident. “As I explained to Lord Delmont, I do not wish to disappoint,” she said with a mocking smile.

Dampierre stroked his beard, twirling the end into a point as his beady black eyes perused her hair, her costume, her necklace. “No,” he mused. “I do not believe you will.”

Lord Delmont raised a clenched fist to his mouth and cleared his throat. “Forgive me. I do not wish to interrupt this little tete-a-tete, but I must return to my guests.”

Dampierre’s expression changed. He appeared affronted, as though the lowliest of servants had dared to insult him. “Then be gone,” he replied coldly with a flick of the wrist.

Lord Delmont straightened. Standing a good head and shoulders above Dampierre, he said through gritted teeth, “I will have my marker.”

“Ah, yes, your marker,” Dampierre repeated slowly. “May I suggest, in future, you do not risk that which you cannot afford to lose? There are those who would seek to … profit from such an oversight.”

Lord Delmont stepped forward, only to find the sharp end of a sword prodding his chest.

“To underestimate one’s opponent is a dangerous game,” Dampierre challenged, “something you recently discovered at the faro table I believe.” With the sword firmly in place, he called out, “Marie, would you be so kind as to give Lord Delmont his marker.”

Sophie’s gaze shot to the carriage door as Madame Labelle climbed down. She glanced briefly at Sophie, but her expression was somewhat vacant, unreadable. Perhaps she did not want Dampierre to know of their friendship.

Madame Labelle raised her hand from beneath her blue cloak. “Your marker, Lord Delmont,” she said, with an inclination of the head.

Lord Delmont practically snatched it out of her hand, even though the movement caused the point of the sword to dig a little deeper into his chest. He scanned the document, perhaps checking its authenticity. Once satisfied, he bowed to Dampierre, turned on his heels and left without so much as a word or a backward glance.

Dampierre replaced the sword in its sheath and once again used it as a cane. “My apologies, Miss Beaufort. I did not intend for you to witness such vulgarity. Now that it is dispensed with, may I suggest we get to the matter of my r

eward … or recompense if you prefer.”

Sophie placed her palm over the chain of rubies. “And when you have what you want, will it be the end of the matter?” she asked dubiously.

“Yes. It will be the end of the matter,” Dampierre nodded as he repeated her words. “We shall discuss it in the privacy of my carriage.” Noticing Sophie’s wary expression, he added, “Marie, she will accompany us.”

While Dampierre addressed her in both a polite and a cordial manner, Sophie knew it to be a well-crafted façade. He was a man driven by a lust for power. Coupled with his complete lack of compassion, he was a very dangerous man indeed. Even with all her boldness and bravado, Sophie knew she would be a fool to climb into his carriage and as such inadvertently took a few steps back.