What You Desire (Anything for Love, Book 1) (7 page)

Whatever happened, he could not touch Miss Beaufort again. As the closest friend of her family, it was his responsibility to offer his protection. Although trying to protect this woman would be like trying to fend off a lion using nothing but a piece of string.

He could not take the risk of leaving for London without her and he could not risk riding with her in such close proximity. That part of the problem was easily solved. Miss Beaufort would ride in his carriage and he would ride Cronus. She would need a maid of course. Perhaps Amy would oblige.

When they arrived in London, he would take her to the house in Red Lion Square and lock her in the bedroom while he hunted down her poor excuse for a brother.

Then, he would hand over the damn necklace and the tempting Miss Beaufort before returning home to continue his quest for a peaceful existence.

Simple.

Chapter 8

“Don’t worry, Mary. Just cut it,” Sophie said pushing aside all doubts as she sat at her dressing table.

“But surely there must be some other way, miss,” her maid replied holding on to a glossy ringlet as if it were the crown jewels and to let go would mean facing the hangman’s noose.

Sophie feigned a smile. “It’s just hair. It will grow back.”

“I still don’t see why you need to cut it,” Mary said with a sigh.

“It will be far safer to travel about if people think I am a man, and I have never seen a man who has hair down to his waist.”

Dane was right about one thing. As a woman, she would be vulnerable on her own in London. As a man, she would be free to do as she pleased. His silly experiment had given her the idea.

She was still rather proud of the way she’d handled him. Perhaps her encounter with the comte had given her a renewed confidence. Indeed, everything Dane said or did paled in comparison to Dampierre’s threatening manner.

When Dane had pulled back from their kiss and informed her it had been nothing more than a way to prove his point, she knew he was lying. Shockingly, she had felt the evidence of his arousal; she had felt the way his body responded to her and it spurred her on to be bolder.

Although she had kissed him back, which proved to be a little worrying. But then she told herself she also had a point to prove. She was not the silly country girl anymore. She was a woman and she would do everything in her power to show him he’d been wrong about her. She would have him spinning around in such a tizzy he wouldn’t know a bray from a bark.

The sudden snipping of scissors caught Sophie’s attention.

“Well, there’s no going back now, miss,” Mary said as the first few tendrils of hair fell to the floor.

Sophie glanced at her maid’s reflection in the mirror, observing the deep furrows between her brows. The lines had been a permanent fixture for the last two hours.

“Mary, if you do not stop worrying, those lines will be as deep as trenches. All the mice will come scurrying along thinking it a place to bed down for the night.”

Mary stopped snipping and placed her hand on Sophie’s shoulder. “It’s not the hair, miss. It’s just the thought of you out there, all alone.”

Sophie covered Mary’s hand with her own. “There is no need for concern. I shall be under the protection of Lord Danesfield and you know the marquess is a dear friend of the family,” she said attempting to sound sincere. Perhaps it was best not to mention the fact that she planned to steal her necklace and head off to on her own.

“I know, miss. But you’ll be all alone with him and you know what they’re saying about him in the village.”

“What, that he’s a rake and a debaucher?”

“I know it’s not my place to say, but there’s no trusting a man like that.”

“And what sort of man do you believe Lord Danesfield to be?”

“You know,” Mary said as her face flushed a deep shade of crimson, “a man with a saucy tongue and a devilish grin. A man whose heart is as hard as his muscles.”

Mary certainly had the measure of the man.

“Well, it would not do to tempt such a man, so all the more reason for me to cut my hair. Besides, his lordship doesn’t think of me in that way. He is simply fulfilling the role of protective sibling in Lord Beaufort’s absence.”

“Whatever you say, miss,” Mary said shrugging her shoulders. “I just hope you know what you’re letting yourself in for.”

“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.

It had taken every ounce of strength and fortitude he possessed not to bolt after her, pull her from the blasted horse and drag her off to a nunnery. To a place where such mischief would be punished with lifelong seclusion, ten hours a day of solid prayer and no supper for a week.

Instead, he simply sat in the middle of the lane, his body rigid, his expression stern, his thoughts confused and chaotic. There was nothing simple about dealing with Miss Beaufort, he thought, his eyes transfixed by the movement of her slender thighs as they gripped and rode the spectacular beast out of view.

He recalled telling her how he’d been in control of everything since the moment he’d carried her over his threshold. She must think him a complete idiot. He had not been in control of a damn thing.

When he rode into the courtyard of Westlands, some ten minutes later, he found Haines in his usual position, perched atop the box of his carriage. His hulking frame filled the seat. Yet it was remarkable how a man his size was adept at making himself appear unnoticeable.

Sebastian caught his gaze and gave him the look that indicated there had been a change of plan. Haines jerked his head towards the carriage, a small inconspicuous nod, and Sebastian led his horse to the door and tapped on the window.

Amy lowered the window and popped her head out, her face alight with excitement. “Yes, my lord,” she said, gripping the window like a pauper would a guinea.

“I am afraid there has been a slight change of plan,” Sebastian said, watching her struggle to hide her disappointment. “Miss Beaufort has made her own arrangements … with the family of a friend, I believe. But I would still like you to travel with Haines as we may join her on the journey. Besides, Miss Beaufort may require your services once we reach town.”

Had he been discussing any other lady, he was certain his story would have sounded reasonably plausible, but Amy put her hand over her mouth to suppress a snigger.

“You will be perfectly safe with Haines,” Sebastian continued, feeling like a buffoon for the umpteenth time, “but I would ask you to draw the blinds as you pass through the village. You may change your mind and stay here if you wish.” He would not force his servants to do something that made them feel uncomfortable.

“No, my lord!” she replied, beaming like a child again. “I’m more than happy to go.”

“Very well,” Sebastian nodded.

As Sebastian brought his horse round to face Haines, he heard Amy close the window. The carriage rocked as if she’d thrown herself back into the seat and he could have sworn he heard her giggle.

“What do you want me to do, my lord?” Haines said.

Sebastian shook his head and sighed. “It appears Miss Beaufort is a thorn to surpass all others.” He lowered his voice. “She has taken it upon herself to ride to London dressed in a tailcoat and breeches. In all our wild adventures, I have never witnessed anything so ludicrous. I doubt there is a man alive willing to tame that one. The woman is an utter menace.”

Haines did not answer, and while his face maintained its usual stern expression, his eyes held the smallest spark of amusement.

Sebastian curbed his temper. “We’ll proceed as planned. But we can’t stop at The Three Crowns, not with her dressed like that. It’s far too busy.”

Haines lowered his head. “We don’t really need to stop at all, my lord, other than to change the horses. The maid seems happy enough in the carriage. We’ve done it before,” he shrugged. “It’s probably best you and the lady avoid the main roads. Well, if you think you can catch up with her, that is.”