A Daring Passion (33 page)

“You are a fine sight on such a miserable night. Such a gentleman should not be alone,” she murmured in inviting tones. “Come with me and I'll warm the chill from your body.”

Philippe grimaced as he stepped sharply from her clinging hand. He held no taste for common whores. Especially not those who looked young enough to be in the nursery.

“Not on this night, child.”

“I am no child.” She pouted as she pulled open the cloak to reveal a gown that was cut to fully reveal her small curves. “Shall I prove that I am a grown woman?”

Philippe was startled to discover something very close to sympathy for the girl as she shivered beneath the chilled air. Dammit all. He did not want to notice that she looked cold, and vulnerable and so horribly young.

It was entirely Raine's fault, of course. Before the irritating woman had charged into his life he had never been bothered by the great horde of unfortunates who were forever crossing his path. Now he found himself actually considering what Raine would expect of him. As if he feared the notion of disappointing her.

Hell and damnation.

He heaved a deep, resigned sigh. “Close your cloak, child, I have no need of your wares.”

“Every man has need of my wares,” she persisted, grimly attempting to keep her teeth from chattering. “Unless you have peculiar tastes?”

Philippe gave a low laugh as the image of Raine's beauty flared through his mind. “Not peculiar, just…particular.”

Her smile faltered as she sensed that a potential customer was slipping from her grasp.

“I can be anything you want,” she coaxed.

“No.” He gave a firm shake of his head. “I have interest in only one woman.”

“A man who is capable of being faithful?” the whore scoffed in disbelief. “She must be a most intriguing woman.”

An agonizing pain threatened to pierce the ice that protected him from sheer madness. “She is…perfect.”

The blue eyes flickered with a hint of envy. “Then why do you stand alone in the cold?”

“I am waiting to take her home,” he said simply.

“A fortunate woman.”

Philippe shrugged. “I am uncertain she would agree, at least not at the moment, but I intend to change her mind.”

The chit heaved a sigh as she grudgingly tugged the cloak around her thin body. “If you cannot convince her, then you need only return to this street and ask for Jeanette. I can help to ease a broken heart.”

“I shall keep that in mind.”

“Such a pity.” A small smile tugged at her lips as she ran a knowing gaze over his large body. “I should not have minded having a man such as you beneath my skirts.”

The woman moved away and began to disappear back into the shadows. Philippe growled beneath his breath as he experienced that unwelcome surge of pity once again.

Raine would expect him to do more than send the pathetic whore on her way. She would expect…bloody hell, she would expect him to rescue the wench from the cold, filthy streets.

“Jeanette,” he called out wearily.

She halted and turned with an expectant expression.
“Oui?”

Philippe reached beneath his coat to withdraw a small leather bag. “Take this.”

She took the bag with a puzzled frown. “What is it?”

“A gift.”

“You've changed your mind?”

“No.”

The puzzlement deepened as she gave a slow shake of her head. She was not the sort of woman that received gifts without being expected to offer her body in return.

“Then why would you offer me anything?”

Philippe smiled with a trace of self-mockery. “Because I have been told by someone I admire that it is what I should do.”

With stiff fingers, Jeanette tugged at the strings that held the bag shut and peered within. Her loud gasp echoed through the alley as she slowly lifted her gaze to regard him in a stunned disbelief.

“
Sacrebleu.
This is a blessed fortune,” she said in an unsteady voice. “What do you want from me?”

Philippe did not blame her for her suspicion. Hell, he would be suspicious himself. Those who possessed generous hearts were as rare as the crown jewels.

“I want you to eat a warm meal and find safe shelter for the night. It is far too cold to be upon the streets.”

She gave a choked laugh that was closer to a sob. “I can live upon this for a year.”

“Perhaps it will give you an opportunity to discover a less-dangerous career.”

The blue eyes filled with tears as she reached up to touch his cheek with frozen fingers. “Are you an angel?”

“An angel?” Philippe gave a harsh bark of laughter. “Not bloody likely. Anyone who knows me will attest to the fact that I long ago sold my soul to the devil.”

“I do not believe it,” she whispered. “You have been sent by God and I will hold you in my prayers every night. Bless you,
monsieur.
” With a cry she reached up to place a kiss on his cheek. “Bless you.”

Philippe grasped her shoulders and gently tugged her away. He did not desire flamboyant gratitude. At least not from this woman. He had done this for Raine, and it was her approval that he sought. Rather pathetic, but what was a man to do?

“Be on your way, child.”

With a last sob the girl turned and scurried down the alley, as if she feared he might suddenly change his mind and demand back her treasure.

Philippe gave a rueful shake of his head as he wondered what his acquaintances would think of his peculiar behavior. No doubt they would presume that he had taken the last step to lunacy. And perhaps they would be right.

“Well, Gautier,” a familiar voice whispered from the doorway behind him. “Are you attempting to be canonized for sainthood or do you intend to join the lovely Jeanette later and allow her to earn that rather tidy fortune?”

Philippe did not bother to turn his head as Belfleur moved to stand beside him.

“Neither,” he said in clipped tones. “I simply wished to be rid of her.”

“You could have accomplished that task with a mere wave of your hand. There was no need for such generosity. Especially if you are not planning to enjoy the sweet rewards of that charity.”

Philippe heaved a sigh as he turned to regard his friend with a lift of his brows.

“Did you seek me out with a purpose?”

Belfleur hesitated before he at last gave a lift of his pudgy hands. “Carlos has commanded that you are not to be allowed alone for any length of time.”

Philippe stiffened, disliking the notion that he was being discussed behind his back as if he were a babbling idiot.

“A rather presumptuous command from a mere servant.”

Belfleur frowned in disapproval at Philippe's cold words. “Carlos is your friend, and as your friend he is worried.”

With an effort Philippe eased his tense muscles. Belfleur was right, of course. He might find the concern of others chafing, but he would be a fool to take offense. There were few in this world he truly trusted. He could not afford to lose those that he did.

“And you have been chosen to become my nanny?” he teased in an effort to lighten the mood.

Belfleur readily followed his lead as he gave a loud laugh. “A daunting task, I will admit.”

“Do not fear. I have not yet taken leave of my senses. The city of Paris is safe from my wrath for the moment.”

“I must admit to some relief.” Belfleur cast a glance about the pale ivory buildings. “I am rather fond of ‘Cara Lutetia,' as the Emperor Julian once called Paris.”

Philippe flashed his companion a startled glance. “
Meu Deus,
do not tell me that you have actually read a book?”

“Do not spread that ghastly tale about. I should hate to lose my reputation as an uneducated brute.”

Philippe made a rude sound. “No one who knows you, Belfleur, would ever think you were anything but shrewd, ruthless and as lethal as a snake hiding in the grass.”

“Here, now. You shall make me blush.”

“I doubt if you have blushed since you left the nursery.”

“True enough.”

They both fell silent as they stared into the shadows. Philippe paid little heed to the sounds just beyond the alley. He had no interest in the screeching vendors or drunken revelers or brawling street thugs. His entire attention was trained upon listening for the soft sound of footsteps that would portend one of the pickpockets returning to offer his report.

For long moments they remained standing side by side, and then Belfleur reached up to lay a hand on Philippe's arm.

“You do know that you cannot stand out here the entire night? You will freeze what few wits you have remaining.”

“I will come in later.”

The older man heaved a faint sigh. “This woman…she must mean a great deal to you.”

Philippe grimaced. “I seem to be hearing that oft of late.”

“Can you deny it?”

He could not, of course. Over the past hours he had been forced to accept that the thought of his life without Raine was a bleak destiny that he could not bear to contemplate.

Until she had arrived he had merely gone through his days with a single-minded determination to build his business, and on occasion, to assist the king. There had been nothing beyond his duty and responsibility.

He had been cold and alone without ever realizing that such warmth could be found in the companionship of a woman.

The knowledge should have been terrifying. After all, he had always taken pride in his ruthless independence. He never wanted to share his life with another. The past had taught him that he was bound to be disappointed when he depended on anyone for his happiness.

At the moment, however, his only terror was that Raine had disappeared from him forever.

The grim thought barely had time to form when Philippe was distracted by the soft fall of footsteps. He instantly straightened and glanced toward the corner of the alley.

“Someone is approaching,” he murmured softly.

Belfleur peered into the dark, his round face easing as he recognized the skinny urchin hurrying in their direction.

“Ah…it is Victor. And he is early.” Belfleur stepped forward, his brows lifting as the boy with a shock of black hair and grubby face skidded to a halt before them. “Have you news?”

The boy narrowed his eyes as he glanced toward Philippe. “Did you mean it about the reward,
monsieur?
”

Belfleur gave a low growl as he grasped Victor by the collar of his shirt and gave him a sharp shake. “You try my patience at your peril, boy. Tell me what you know.”

Victor smiled with a sly arrogance. “I found the man. Now, where's my money?”

T
HE NEXT HOUR PASSED WITH
a blur of frantic urgency.

With Carlos and Belfleur at his side, Philippe followed Victor to the shabby building where Seurat had held Raine captive. Philippe would never forget the first sight of her lying upon the filthy bed with her hands tied behind her back and her arms smeared with blood. Fury had seared through him at the knowledge that she had endured such brutal treatment, and an unexpected flare of guilt at the thought that this, at least in some small portion, was his fault.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he had been aware of Carlos searching the rooms for the absent Seurat and then organizing Belfleur and his gang of pickpockets into a web of eyes and ears to keep a watch upon the neighborhood.

The fact that it should be his position to be taking the lead in the capture of Seurat was buried beneath his fierce concern for Raine. At the moment all he cared about was taking the woman from the ghastly hovel and returning her to his home so that he could properly tend to her.

After gently untying her bonds, he had cradled her in his arms and carried her down to the waiting carriage. Even as they were rattling their way to Montmartre he refused to allow her to leave his grasp, instead settling her on his lap and covering her with a heavy blanket.

Raine, of course, protested against his tender care. She was not the sort to easily cast herself in the role of feeble victim and disliked being fussed over. Trapped in his arms, she continued to assure him that she was perfectly well and that she had been treated as a respected guest by Seurat. Even as he carried her through the cottage she was pleading with the servants to halt their tears of joy and to be about their duties.

Philippe easily ignored her objections to being carried like a child and hauled her to his chambers. Within a short time he had her stripped of her rumpled gown and soaking in a hot tub as he gently washed her clean of the clinging dust.

Beneath his tender touch her muscles slowly relaxed and she leaned her head against the back of the tub.

“Oh, this is heavenly,” she murmured softly, her eyes closed. “I did not believe I would ever be warm again.”

Philippe knelt beside the tub, stripped down to his breeches. Until this moment he would have laughed at anyone who suggested he would ever play lady's maid for a woman. Such a thing was disturbingly intimate. Far more intimate than mere sex. But in this moment he could not deny that he found himself reveling in performing such a service for Raine. Indeed, he was unable to stop himself.

He had to touch her. He had to feel the satin heat of her skin, smooth his hands from the top of her curls to the very tip of her toes. He had to assure himself that she was alive and unharmed.

He studied the delicate profile as a peculiar surge of emotion shot through his heart. With her heavy swath of lashes sweeping her cheeks and the stubborn line of her jaw softened, she looked unbearably young and innocent.

“Perhaps you will take more care on the next occasion you run off with another man,
meu amor,
” he murmured as his fingers trailed down her arm. “Not all gentlemen are so concerned with your comfort as I am.”

She chuckled softly. “I shall bear that in mind.”

His entire body stiffened as his fingers reached her wrist and the flesh that was rubbed raw from the ropes. The fury he had battled to keep at bay while he cared for her slashed through him with a brutal force.

“We should send for a doctor,” he rasped. “These wounds need to be tended.”

She reluctantly opened her eyes to regard him in puzzlement.

“They are merely scraped, Philippe. They will heal in a few days.”

“Seurat shall pay for every moment he held you captive, do not fear.”

Her brows snapped together at his solemn promise. “No.”

Philippe sat back on his heels. “I beg your pardon?”

“If I desired revenge upon Seurat, I would seek it for myself. I do not need or want you to punish anyone on my behalf,” she informed him sternly.

His gaze slowly narrowed. “I was not asking for your permission.”

“Of course you were not.” She did her own bit of eye narrowing. “Why should you concern yourself with what I might want?”

Angry words were poised on Philippe's lips before he forced himself to swallow them. Raine could claim an astonishing collection of skills, not the least of which was the ability to rouse the temper he had not even known he possessed.

“Oh, no, not tonight, Miss Wimbourne. You are not going to provoke me into an argument,” he informed her as he scooped her from the tub and wrapped her in a thick robe. Once she was warmly garbed he carried her to the bed and tucked her beneath the covers. He stretched out next to her and firmly tugged her into his arms. “On this night I intend to hold you close and assure myself that you are truly back where you belong.”

She tilted her head to give him a wry glance. “In your bed?”

“In my bed, in my home, at my side. Where I am, is where you belong.” He tucked another pillow beneath her head. “Are you warm enough? Do you need more blankets?”

Her brows slowly lifted at his solicitous concern. “Philippe?”

“Yes?”

“Are you feeling quite well?”

“No.” His arms tightened about her slender body. “In truth, I am not entirely certain I shall ever feel quite well again.”

She reached up to lightly touch his cheek. “I am safe and unharmed. There is no need to worry.”

“Perhaps you are right,
meu amor.
” He grasped her fingers and brought them to his lips, his gaze holding her own with a steady promise. “I shall not have to worry because I shall never allow you to be left without a guard again.”

She heaved a faint sigh. “You are being absurd.”

Just a few weeks ago Philippe would have entirely agreed with her opinion. He had always held absolute confidence in his own ability to conquer any enemy, whoever or whatever it might be. Now, however, he was absolutely determined to make sure that there were at least three burly servants keeping constant watch on the cottage. There would be no more surprises. For once he possessed something too precious to risk.

Breathing deeply of her enticing scent, Philippe allowed the warmth of her small body to chase away the last of the lingering chill.

Raine was home. She was where she belonged.

Tucking her head beneath his chin, Philippe simply held her until there was a soft knock on the door and Madame LaSalle bustled in with a heavy tray.

Crossing the room, the older woman offered a rare smile, as if pleased to discover that Philippe was capable of taking proper care of her beloved mistress.

“Here we are,” she said briskly, settling the tray on the bed. “A nice cup of broth and bread still warm from the oven.”

Struggling to sit upright against the mass of pillows, Raine breathed deeply of the enticing scents.

“Madame LaSalle, it smells wonderful.”

“It is precisely what you need to recover your strength. So be warned that I am not leaving this room until you have eaten every bite,” the housekeeper said sternly.

Accepting that he would be allowed no privacy with Raine until the staff had finished their fussing, Philippe reluctantly lifted himself off the bed and wrapped a robe about his half-naked body.

“Has Carlos returned?” he demanded.

“
Oui.
He returned only a few moments ago. He is eating in the kitchen.”

He bent down to brush his lips over Raine's brow before straightening to regard the housekeeper with a warning gaze.

“Do not allow her to stir from that bed.”

Madame LaSalle gave a nod, her hands on her hips as if quite prepared to use brute force to keep Raine abed.

Certain that Raine was out of harm's way for the moment, Philippe left the chamber and made his way to the narrow kitchen. As Madame LaSalle had promised he found Carlos at the table eating a large bowl of stew.

“Did you discover anything?” he asked as he leaned against the wall.

“Very little.” Carlos took a deep drink of his wine. “The rooms held few possessions. Certainly none that would lead us to where Seurat has fled.”

Philippe had not dared to hope that Seurat would be so careless as to lead them to his latest lair. And in truth, it was not his swift disappearance that was currently troubling him.

“He could not have gone far. Belfleur's lads are searching every street and alley. I have offered enough reward to make sure they do not allow so much as a mouse to slip past them.”

Carlos polished off the last of his stew and leaned back in his chair. “I do not believe he intends to try to slip past them. For the moment I sense he intends to find a dark corner to hide in while he plots how to punish you. He will not be pleased you interfered in his revenge.”

“I hope you are right, my friend.” Philippe smiled with cold anticipation. “On this occasion I intend to be prepared.”

Carlos nodded, his fingers tapping restlessly on the table. “How is Raine?”

“Remarkably well and already lecturing me on my wish to punish her captor,” he said dryly.

“She was not—” the muscles in Carlos's neck worked as he struggled against a blaze of emotion “—harmed?”

Philippe had no need to inquire to his companion's meaning. Neither had spoken of their appalling fear that Seurat might force himself on the vulnerable woman, but it had been a heavy burden that they had both endured. A woman could recover from bruises and scrapes. To be raped was a wound that did not heal.

“No,” he said in emphatic tones. “She assures me that Seurat behaved as a perfect gentleman.”

Carlos released a shaky sigh. “Thank God.”

“Indeed.”

There was a startled silence as Carlos narrowed his gaze. He had not missed Philippe's distracted tone.

“Should you not be pleased Seurat did not harm her?”

“Of course I am relieved.” Philippe pushed from the wall to prowl across the flagstone floor. “Had he so much as laid a hand upon her…I would have pursued him to the gates of hell to destroy him.”

“Then what troubles you?”

Philippe came to an abrupt halt and shoved his fingers through his hair. “Why did Seurat release Raine?”

“He did not precisely release her. He merely left her behind.”

“But why? He could have forced her to go with him when he fled.”

Carlos shrugged. “Perhaps he feared she might endanger his escape. Hauling around a screaming woman does tend to attract attention.”

“Taking her from his rooms would have offered considerably less risk than taking her from this cottage. Once he had her in his grasp, she would be compelled to obey his commands,” Philippe pointed out.

Carlos gave a startled laugh. “Raine obeying commands? That would be a sight worth seeing.”

Philippe's lips briefly twitched. It was true that Raine had an uncanny habit of ignoring even the most direct commands. Still, not even his stubborn beauty was proof against a gun pointed at her heart.

“Why did he not force her to go with him?” he repeated.

“It could be he thought that she had served her purpose,” Carlos suggested. “He proved he could slip beneath your nose and steal away something you value.”

Philippe frowned. If he had discovered nothing else about Seurat over the past few weeks it was that he was determined to have his full pound of flesh from the Gautier clan.

“But he must have realized she was the perfect means of gaining whatever he desired from my family,” he argued. “I would have done anything, given anything to have her returned.”

Carlos gave a lift of his brows. “Actually, Philippe, I doubt he suspected any such thing.”

“Seurat might be unhinged,
amigo,
but he has proved he is not a fool.”

“Yes, but as far as Seurat was concerned, Raine was your current mistress, nothing more.” Carlos slowly rose to his feet and crossed to stand directly in front of Philippe. “What would you have done if he had taken any of your other lovers?”

Philippe blinked at the unexpected question. “I would not have left them at the mercy of a madman.”

“You would, of course, have attempted to rescue them, but you would not have bartered your soul for their release.”

A wry smile touched his lips. He could hardly argue the truth of his friend's words. “Perhaps not.”

“I still am uncertain what is bothering you.”

“I am not entirely certain myself.” Philippe gave a restless shake of his head. He had no explanation for the irritating sensation that he was looking at a puzzle with a vital piece missing. “I only know that Seurat is obsessed with his need to hurt my family. It does not make sense that he would have the means to harm me within his grasp and simply allow her to escape with no more than a few scrapes.”