What You Desire (Anything for Love 1)
“Which is why,” she interjected, “I shall strive to find some other solution. As the saying goes — to those that will, ways are not wanting.”
He coughed into his fist and then said rather smugly, “I’m afraid you are missing the point, Miss Beaufort. I think you will find the saying goes — to him that will, ways are not wanting.”
She smiled; the wry expression made him feel like a silly child who had missed an obvious piece of information.
“Let me speak plainly,” she replied abruptly. “I do not intend to sit around like a simpering miss, eating supper at six and hoping for news from my brother when he could be in need of my help. Believe me when I tell you, I am in just as much danger here as I am in London. Dampierre will call again. So,” she continued a little more calmly, “I am going to find my brother with or without your help, with or without the necklace.”
Had he been thinking with his rational mind, Sebastian would have considered his words carefully. He would have used his talent for manipulation to overpower her in this verbal battle. However, logic and rationale had forsaken him.
“Not before hell freezes over.”
Rather than appear annoyed, Miss Beaufort appeared amused. “I think it is you who is missing the point.” She stood in front of him, raised her left hand and examined both sides. “I see no wedding band and I’m certain you are not my father or my brother. You have no authority over me, my lord.”
Sebastian had a good mind to take her over his knee and teach her a lesson.
“Do not try my patience,” he barked. “I may be forced to call your bluff.” The thought left him feeling slightly aroused and so he quickly changed the subject. “Besides, London is not Marchampton. You cannot simply go knocking on every door in the hope of finding your brother. You wouldn’t know where to start.”
She raised a brow. “You’d be surprised, country mice can be very resourceful,” she replied, sarcasm evident in her tone. “James obviously left directions. I have the address, I have money, and I know I can find the Comte de Dampierre.”
What the hell was she trying to prove?
He stared at her, somewhat dumbfounded as he pondered the dilemma. When had she become so obstinate, so spirited and so damnably appealing? She seemed to have the upper hand in this game of wits, but he would be a fool to let her do something so reckless.
“You have left me with no other choice,” he sighed, acknowledging defeat. “I shall leave this afternoon and bring that wastrel of a brother of yours to heel.” He swallowed deeply as his eyes roamed over her flimsy nightgown, over her swollen lips and mussed hair. “I fear he has an awful lot to answer for.”
“Am I to understand that you refuse to give me the necklace?” When he nodded, she said gracefully, “Then I concede. I am confident you will find a reasonable way of explaining us riding out together.”
Sebastian snorted. “I intend to travel alone.”
“Well, that does present a problem. You see, if you leave without me, I will be obliged to follow.”
Bloody hell! Why would the woman not yield?
“Without the necklace your journey would be a waste of time,” he retorted.
“Without information regarding the whereabouts of my brother and Dampierre, so would yours, my lord.”
That was not entirely true. Once in London, he could find out that information within the hour. “Let us suppose for a moment I agree to your proposal. I cannot allow an unmarried woman to travel in a closed carriage with a man half the village believe to be a dissolute rake. Mrs. Bernard would have a fit of apoplexy.”
“Well, I would not want to be responsible for the death of your housekeeper. So, let me make my position clear.” She stood before him and looked him straight in the eye. “I do not worry about my reputation for I have no intention of ever marrying. I fear I am far too headstrong to make some quiet country squire a suitable wife.” Her eyes perused him from head to toe as though he was some dowdy old dress in a shop window, then she added, “or any other man for that matter.”
“I am sure Marchampton will be relieved to hear it,” he scoffed. Although a part of him would enjoy the challenge of trying to tame her.
She appeared resolute rather than offended. “You may jest, my lord, but as I am sure you have gathered, I could not play the docile wife and marry for convenience. And I have yet to come across a man interesting enough, a man who excites me enough,” she said as her gaze moved to his lips and lingered there for a moment. With a sigh of resignation she added, “So if you are concerned with your own reputation, I suggest you come up with a plan. Either way, I am leaving at noon.”
“I could always say I am carting you off to an asylum. The whole village would believe that,” he replied, somewhat amused by the thought.
She took a step closer and said with a seductive purr, “Oh, I am not mad, my lord. I have, what you would call, an adventurous spirit and I am afraid there is no cure. Now, if you have finished being stuffy.” She walked around the desk, picked up her candle and used it to light his before walking slowly, yet purposefully, towards the door.
“Where are you going?” he asked, sounding somewhat like a neglected mistress.
She glanced over her shoulder. “To wake my noisy mare of a maid and find my dress. I have things to attend to if I am to return at noon.”
Sebastian watched her walk out into the hallway. He did not go after her. What was the point? He could not reason with a woman who appeared to act only on impulse, even if he did find that rather intriguing. Besides, he needed time to think of a solution to the problem without the constant barrage of witty remarks.
He walked over to the table and picked up her brandy glass, turning it in his hand. Although it was empty, he lifted it to his lips. Something deep within him stirred, some raw and earthy masculine need to conquer, to claim, to have Miss Beaufort completely at his mercy. The more she defied him, the more powerful the urge to control.
An image of her lying beneath him flooded his mind, her hair splayed across his pillow, her hands clutching his shoulders, of her begging him for more. Shaking his head in a bid to erase it, he poured a large measure of brandy and drank it down.