A Daring Passion (34 page)

Carlos pondered for a long moment, his dark features lined with weariness. Like Philippe, the younger man had refused to rest until Raine was returned. A knowledge that both pleased and troubled Philippe.

“There seems to be only two possibilities,” Carlos at last muttered. “Either Seurat panicked and fled without completing his revenge, or he has conjured another means of punishing you.”

“I will not allow him to have another opportunity. He must be found.”

Carlos gave a slow nod, his dark eyes hard with determination and he moved toward the door. “I can assure you there will be no stone left unturned.”

 

I
T WAS TWO DAYS AFTER
her return to the cottage before Raine at last had the opportunity to request a private meeting with Carlos.

Philippe had proved to be remarkably persistent in keeping her under his constant surveillance. Not a difficult task since they had rarely left his chambers, she wryly acknowledged. Philippe was always a demanding lover, but since her return he had been insatiable. If she were a fanciful woman she would have thought his clinging arms and tender kisses were a sign that he had realized during her absence that he held an affection for her. That just perhaps she meant more to him than a warm body in his bed.

As it was, she was wise enough to realize that his fierce, relentless passion was no more than some primitive male need to mark his possession.

Not that the knowledge had diminished her pleasure in his lovemaking, she was forced to concede. When Philippe was trembling from the force of his desire and whispering soft words in her ear, she felt as if she were the most cherished, most treasured woman ever to have been born. In those moments she belonged utterly and completely to him.

Dangerous sensations that warned her to complete her plans for dealing with Seurat, and to complete them without delay.

Once Philippe could be assured that Jean-Pierre was no longer in danger, he would be anxious to return to his estates in Madeira and Raine would be sent back to England.

This afternoon, at last, Philippe had announced his intention to return to Paris and seek out further acquaintances to assist in the search for Seurat. She had watched from the window as he had ridden down the cobblestone streets toward the city before sending one of the maids in search of Carlos. She was quite certain Philippe would not leave her at the cottage without his trusted companion to keep an eye upon her.

Her faith was not misplaced, and she was just finishing her luncheon when Carlos strolled into the drawing room. As always he was attired in rough woolen clothing that molded to his large body, and he brought with him a warm, spicy scent that uniquely suited his exotic looks.

He also brought with him a fierce, smoldering power that swept through the room like a force of nature.

It was that power she was in need of on this day.

Carlos halted in the center of the room and regarded her with a hooded gaze. “You do know that if you leave one morsel upon that tray poor Madame LaSalle will spend the entire afternoon fretting on what special treat she can create to tempt your fickle appetite?”

Raine rose to her feet with a small grimace. “An entire regiment could not consume the amount of food that Madame LaSalle sends to me.”

“It is her method of revealing how much you have come to mean to her.” A smile curved his lips. “Quite a remarkable feat considering she is a dragon who terrifies the entire village from the poor coalman to the local priest. Perhaps you have some relationship to St. George?”

“Nonsense.” She gave a click of her tongue. “Beneath her gruff manners Madame LaSalle is a very kind woman.”

“If you say so.” His dark gaze swept over her with an unnerving intensity. “How are you faring?”

Raine stifled a sigh. It was a question that was put to her at least a dozen times a day, and while she appreciated the concern she felt like a fraud. Her brief stay with Seurat had not been nearly the terrifying ordeal that others insisted on believing.

“I am truly fine. Seurat is not entirely sane, but he treated me well enough.” She smiled wryly. “I wish that everyone would not treat me as if I suffered some Shakespearean tragedy.”

His brows lifted. “Not many women would view being kidnapped by a lunatic and bound to the bed so lightly.”

“There were moments when I was frightened,” she confessed. “But in truth Seurat is such a pathetic creature it is difficult to feel anything but pity when in his company.”

“He may be pathetic, but he is also dangerous and extremely cunning.”

“Yes, I know. I have not forgotten what he has done to Jean-Pierre.” She wrapped her arms about her waist, her stomach giving a sudden twist of unease. It had been a simple matter to consider asking Carlos for his assistance when she was in the privacy of her room. Now that he was standing before her, Raine discovered her nerves tightening. He was not the sort of man who could be led about by a charming smile and flutter of her lashes. If she confessed her plans and he decided they were outlandish he would not hesitate to put a swift, brutal end to them. She sucked in a deep breath and gave an unconscious tilt of her chin. “That is why I asked you to join me.”

He gave a short, mirthless laugh as he turned to stroll toward the fireplace. “I did not dare to hope it was for the mere pleasure of my company.”

Raine frowned as she studied his harsh profile. “You must know that I always enjoy your company. I consider you a very dear friend.”

He seemed to flinch as he briefly closed his eyes. “
Meu Deus,
why do you not stab me with a dagger and be done with it?”

Truly alarmed, Raine crossed the room to lay a hand on his arm. “Carlos? Did I say something wrong?”

There was a long, tense silence before he gave a sharp shake of his head and squared his shoulders. Whatever emotion had been gripping him was hidden behind a tight smile.

“Why did you wish to see me?”

Sensing his muscles flex beneath her lingering touch, Raine dropped her hand and regarded him with a wary expression.

“I…need your assistance.”

“You know I am ever at your service.” The dark features slowly eased as he sensed her apprehension. “Raine?”

“First I must have your word that you will say nothing to Philippe about what I am to tell you.”

Carlos leaned against the mantel. “That is a difficult promise to give, Raine. Philippe has been my friend since I was a mere child. I would not deceive him lightly.”

“Of course you would not and I appreciate your loyalty,” she said sincerely. “I would not ask this of you if I did not believe it was in Philippe's best interest.”

A sardonic smile touched his lips. “Philippe may not agree with your notion of what is in his best interest. In fact, I am fairly certain he would not, considering you came to plead your case with me rather than him.”

“He is simply unable to be reasonable when it comes to Seurat.”

“Do you blame him?”

Raine twisted her hands together as she turned and walked toward the window. Over the past two days she had pondered her rash promise to Seurat on a hundred occasions. She well knew that her susceptible heart could be easily manipulated. Especially if she thought that some poor soul was being abused by a man of privilege. It offended everything she held dear. But while she had told herself Seurat might very well be playing her for a fool, she could not convince herself that he had been lying. His wounds were all too real.

“I do not blame Philippe, but I do blame his father,” she said as she turned back to meet Carlos's steady gaze. “Louis Gautier is responsible for this entire mess.”

“I presume that Seurat managed to sway your sympathy with his well-rehearsed tale of how he was wronged?”

Her chin lifted at the hint of derision in his tone. “I think that having ruffians hired to murder you is a bit more than being merely wronged.”

The dark eyes narrowed. “Is that what he claimed?”

“It is, and I believe him.”

His lips abruptly twitched, his large body moving with startling grace as he crossed to lightly brush his finger down the line of her jaw.

“There is no need to poke out your chin at me,
anjo.
I am well enough acquainted with Louis Gautier to believe him capable of murder if it would further his dreams of glory.”

“Then you will help me?”

“That still depends upon what you want of me.”

“I have…” Words failed her beneath his intense gaze. Bloody hell. He was going to believe she had lost her mind. And she could not blame him.

“Raine?” he urged gently.

“I have made a bargain with Seurat,” she abruptly announced.

His fingers tightened on her face. “So Philippe was wise to question why you would have been released unharmed.”

Raine frowned at his strange words, but she refused to be distracted. “I do not believe Seurat would have harmed me regardless of our bargain.”

His brooding gaze followed the path of his fingers as he brushed them over the cut still obvious on her lip.

“This says otherwise.”

“It does not matter,” she said impatiently. “All that is important is that Seurat is willing to put aside his desire for revenge for a price.”

“And what is that price?”

“I have promised to sell the necklaces that Philippe gave to me and offer the profits to Seurat.”

Carlos dropped his hand and stepped away from the bewitching minx. Not just in shock, although he was certainly stunned by her outrageous suggestion, but because he wanted to do so much more than brush her lips with his finger. He wanted to crush that rosebud mouth in a kiss that would reveal the hunger that pulsed through his body. He wanted to tug off that delicate ivory gown and reveal the slender beauty that was hidden beneath. He wanted to plunge himself so deeply inside her that she could think of no other man but him.

Instead he turned away and struggled to think clearly. “
Meu Deus.
Do you have any notion what those necklaces are worth?” he rasped.

“Their worth is nothing in comparison to having Jean-Pierre freed and Philippe spared from the constant threat of Seurat plotting some devious revenge.”

He gave a disbelieving shake of his head. Surely there was no other woman who would so easily dismiss such priceless jewels? Certainly none of his acquaintances.

“The same thing will be accomplished when we capture Seurat and haul him to an English prison.”

“
If
you capture him.”

He instinctively turned, astonished she would even question the inevitable fact. He and Philippe had spent years tracking down the most cunning traitors. Men who had power and position and enough supporters to make it a dangerous proposition to spy upon them. The thought that they could not capture a stray lunatic was absurd.

“Never doubt he will be cornered like the rat he is, Raine.”

She waved aside his arrogant confidence. “Then Philippe will see that he is punished.”

Carlos shrugged. “Of course.”

“And so Seurat will suffer as Jean-Pierre and Philippe have already suffered.” Her beautiful features tightened with a fierce emotion. “And Louis, the actual villain, will remain unscathed.”

“Such is the nature of scoundrels.”

“It is…immoral, and deep within Philippe he will know that he is protecting his family at the cost of true justice,” she said, her voice throbbing with genuine outrage.

Carlos smiled wryly, resisting the urge to reach out and stroke the soft heat that flooded her cheeks. She was so frighteningly innocent. So pure.

“Perhaps that is how you would feel, Raine, but I do not believe that Philippe possesses your tender heart,” he said.

She heaved a deep sigh, her arms wrapping about her tiny waist. “You are wrong, you know. Philippe does not readily reveal his emotions, but he feels deeply.”

Carlos hastily swallowed his laugh. “You are the first to accuse him of that sin.”

Her dark eyes became pleading as she stepped close enough to cloak him in her sweet scent.

“Carlos, you know as well as I that Philippe bears the weight of far too many burdens,” she murmured. “And that he holds himself responsible even when it is others who fail.”

He sucked in a sharp breath, struggling against the sensation he was tumbling into those wide, impossibly beautiful eyes.

“Holds himself responsible?” he demanded in bemusement.

“Yes.” Her hand reached out to touch his arm, sending a blaze of need roaring through his body. “He blames himself for his mother's death, for Jean-Pierre being imprisoned, and if he is forced to destroy Seurat because his father is too weak-willed to return what he has stolen, then he will hold himself to blame for that, as well.”

Carlos ground his teeth, resisting the urge to inform the gullible woman that Philippe was very far from the saint she desired to paint him. It was not loyalty toward his friend that stayed his tongue. All was fair in love and war. No, he would quite willingly do whatever necessary to turn her from Philippe, but not at the cost of tarnishing that delicate purity.