His Majesty, the Prince of Toads by Delle Jacobs

Author:Delle Jacobs [Jacobs, Delle]
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2010-02-13T07:08:26+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Sophie all but slammed the door and leaned against the wall, breathing hard as the rush of both fear and excitement poured through her. She'd done it. Without precisely lying, she had persuaded him to expect her cooperation on the morrow. Now, if he would keep his word and not arrive until four o'clock, she could elude his stalkers and be long gone before he realized it.

And he would be very angry. He would never forgive her. Guilt needled her. But it was his doing, not hers. He was the one who refused to see the obvious truth. Just because she had not replied did not mean she had agreed to go. He had fooled himself, the way he always had.

She rushed up the marble stairs, fleeing the lingering memory of his haunting dark eyes, so wonderfully greyed by the blustery day, laced with laughter. Happiness. No. It was happiness at getting his way. She had succeeded in making him want her, but what he wanted was her body, not her, and if she let him cart her off, he would control her completely. Fortune and soul. She would love him until her heart would break, but once he had her, she would lose it all.

But how could she escape, without Minerva's help?

Most of her plan was still sound. Hargrove could still hire the coach, and wait for her while she pretended to shop. She could take Meg shopping in Minerva's place, instead of sending her with Hargrove. She could still count on dark 176

His Majesty, the Prince of Toads

by Delle Jacobs

corners of the 'Change to elude whoever followed her, but if they split up, the tracker had only to follow one of them to find both, and Meg wouldn't be very good at evasion. If they went together, they would be too easy to spot. Meg would have to play decoy, and stay behind. Sophie would send for her later. He would not expect her to go off without even her maid.

Lucas would be very angry. But it wasn't her fault.

* * * *

As his coach clattered along the cobblestones away from Berkeley Square, Lucas glanced back at Sophie's town house. He'd done it!

If the best he could do was to take her to that miserable, ancient house in Bedford Square, then he'd set Wilkes, every stable hand, pot boy, and scullery maid he could find to shining the place up for her. Whatever that business about four o'clock was, he didn't know, but he meant to be meticulous about keeping his word. She needed to know she could depend on him.

Yes, they would suit, very well, indeed. For the whole of the last week, he'd been anticipating the moment when she would come into his arms. He'd waked in the middle of the night, hard and aching, with dreams about how it would be. Not simply because she was a delicate wisp of a woman with porcelain doll features. He liked her, liked looking at her, being with her.

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