What You Desire (Anything for Love 1)
“Trust me, Mary. I am perfectly capable of handling Lord Danesfield,” Sophie said, praying to God she was right.
The ancient cedar tree on Keepers Lane, with its low sweeping branches, offered the perfect cover for a discreet rendezvous. Clad in beige buckskin breeches and a conservatively cut coat, Sophie sat astride Argo, a beast of an animal belonging to her brother.
She had ridden Argo many times over the last few years and while he looked rather menacing, he really was quite easy to handle. She leaned forward and gave the horse a reassuring pat and he responded with a snort.
The thud of horses hooves pounding the dirt track caused her to look up just as Dane came thundering into view.
He did not look pleased.
He reared up in front of her on a large black stallion, which looked even more menacing than Argo. However, the horse paled into insignificance when compared to the magnificence of its rider.
Dane’s greatcoat hung loose at his sides, revealing muscular thighs that his breeches struggled to restrain. Beneath the midnight-blue tailcoat, he wore a yellow waistcoat, which accentuated the hues of his warm brown eyes. His top hat was possibly the tallest she had ever seen and when accompanied by his dark scowl, made him appear rather ominous.
He did not speak, but his hard, assessing gaze darted between her horse and her clothes.
Sophie smiled, as she refused to be intimidated. “Good afternoon, my lord. I see you received my note.”
His breathing appeared a little ragged and when he eventually spoke, it was through gritted teeth. “Over the years, I have been shot at, sliced with a blade, and chased from one country to the next. But I have never been angrier than I am at this moment. You should be thankful I am not your brother, else you would be dragged from that horse and thrown over my knee.” His eyes shot to her breeches as if contemplating doing just that, but then he shook his head as though he found the image disturbing. He took a deep breath. “Now, you will follow me to Westlands where there is a carriage waiting and —”
“I’m afraid that will not be possible,” Sophie interrupted.
As though sensing his master’s agitation, the black stallion became restless and Dane brought him firmly to heel.
“As you can see,” Sophie continued, waving a gloved hand in the direction of her newly cut hair, which was held off her shoulders in a loose queue. “I have gone to an incredible amount of trouble to appease your rather overcautious nature. Indeed, poor Mary has spent hours sewing me into these breeches.”
He looked down at her breeches and muttered a curse. “My overcautious nature? What the hell are you talking about?” His voice sounded more irritated than angry.
Sophie was more than pleased to enlighten him. “Perhaps you do not recall your little experiment. The one where you attempted to prove how vulnerable a lady can be. The one where you kissed me in order —”
“Enough.” He raised a hand to silence her. “I remember, Miss Beaufort. But what has that got to do with this scandalous display?”
By everything holy, Sophie had never heard such hypocritical drivel. Scandalous display, indeed. The man was a rake, a rogue, a degenerate who bought his mistresses baubles while his tenants rotted in squalor. If it were not for the necklace, she would not even be having this conversation.
“At least I do not shirk my responsibilities,” she countered in a tone full of self-righteous indignation.
“At this present moment, Miss Beaufort, you are my responsibility,” he bellowed, ignoring the insult. “And I’ll be damned before I allow you to ruin what is left of an already fragile reputation.” He glanced at Argo. “It also appears stupidity is in the blood because I am confident your horse will be the death of you before the day is out.”
“I am more than capable of handling Argo.”
Oh, how she wanted to prove this gentleman wrong.
She was not some dullard, not some meek country chit too scared to step over her own threshold, nor some elegant lady who would rather die than tarnish her precious reputation.
Family was what mattered to her — and love and loyalty. She was passionate and generous of spirit and if that meant being reckless and impulsive, then so be it.
Sophie edged Argo out from under the cover of the tree and onto the well-trodden lane. “Once again you seem to have left me with little choice.” She saw the brief look of victory on his face: a grin that was all smug and self-congratulatory, a look quickly replaced with one of doubt and mistrust.
Without another word, without another glance, Sophie took a firm hold of the reins, dug her heels in and was soon galloping down Keepers Lane on her way to London.
Dane would follow, of course, she was sure of it. For some unfathomable reason, he felt duty-bound to protect her. He considered her his responsibility and he was most definitely taking his role seriously.
Why the sudden change of heart, she wondered? Why insist upon that which he had spent years avoiding? Duty and responsibility were not words she had ever associated with the Marquess of Danesfield.
Not until now.
Chapter 9
For the first time in his life, Sebastian had seriously underestimated his opponent.