A Passion for Pleasure(48)

“I want to go with you.”

Sebastian jerked his gaze to hers. Alarm split through him at the unyielding determination in her expression.

“Why?” he asked.

“Monsieur Dupree entrusted the plans to my uncle,” Clara said. “And though Uncle Granville would never admit this, I know he feels as if he has somehow betrayed his mentor by making copies of the plans. Yet he did it for me, because he trusts me. I will not see his faith in me misplaced. I must insist upon knowing more about what your brother intends to do.”

Bloody hell. Even Sebastian didn’t know all the details of what Darius intended to do. He would find out tonight. But because he was suspicious of his brother’s hidden motives, Sebastian did not want Clara to hear anything directly from Darius. He didn’t want her to know that Darius had promised to compensate him financially. And he especially did not want to subject her to his brother’s knife-edged perception.

“You can’t go with me,” he said.

“Why not?” She stepped forward. “I’m to be your wife. You made it quite clear we will not wed in name only, so I’ve a right to accompany you.”

Sebastian’s teeth came together hard. “I will tell you what you want to know after—”

“No. I want to go with you. If you do not allow it, rest assured I will follow you.” She paused. “And I will not give you the plans until we arrive at our destination.”

He stared at her for a long minute, convinced this was some form of punishment for having arrested things in the carriage the previous day.

“Where are the plans?” he asked.

“I’ll give them to you when we arrive at the meeting,” she repeated, turning back to the door. “I’ve told the driver to wait, but we’d best hurry so we’re not late.”

Sebastian swore aloud this time, his fists clenching as he glanced at the clock. Whatever game Clara was playing, he had no time for it, not if he intended to settle the bargain with his brother. And settle it he must, for he hadn’t gone to such drastic lengths—the promise of marriage, for the love of God—to risk the whole thing going to hell now.

He yanked his greatcoat from the rack and stalked after Clara to the carriage. The plans had to be inside. Once he had them, he’d pay the driver a handsome sum to ensure Clara’s safe return to the museum.

He gripped the door and hauled himself into the cab, throwing Clara a dark and fulminating glare. She merely blinked at him.

“Where are the plans?” Sebastian asked through gritted teeth.

“I told you when I would give them to you.” She tilted her head and gave him a look that was both amused and considering. “And I thought I was the one with the hearing loss.”

A growl rumbled in Sebastian’s throat as he leaned out to snap the address at the driver. Then he slammed the door as the cab jolted into motion. Clara looked out the window, her expression impassive as porcelain—the polar opposite of her heated desperation the last time they had shared a carriage.

Sebastian grimaced, shifting as the memory rushed heat through his lower body. What did the infuriating woman hope to accomplish with this? Whatever it was, in any case, he ought to leave her at the museum. Wake Granville and tell him not to let Clara from his sight until Sebastian had settled with his brother.

Except that he couldn’t settle anything with Darius unless he had the goddamned plans.

Right. Everything about the whole affair was a mistake. And he was a bloody fool to have thought any differently.

He folded his arms across his chest and stared at Clara through the shadowed light, thrusting aside the knowledge of what their agreement would entail. If he allowed himself to imagine her as his wife, his brain would flood with intoxicating images of all the acts sanctified by the marriage covenant—and several especially gratifying ones that weren’t.

An unwelcome speculation surfaced regarding her previous marriage. What had been the true nature of her relationship with Richard Winter? Had the man made her happy? Had he satisfied her?

Sebastian’s fingers dug into his palms, anger cording his back at the idea of another man, even a former husband, touching Clara.

Mine.

The word exploded like a star behind his eyes, drenching him in feelings of possession, lust, want, need…

“You look a bit peaked tonight,” Clara remarked.

A hoarse laugh shook his chest. “Do I?”

“Haven’t you slept well?”