A Daring Passion (35 page)

That was something he would protect with his very life.

“Philippe's desire to destroy Seurat no longer has anything to do with his family,” he said cautiously. “Seurat sealed his own fate when he kidnapped you.”

Her face paled, her nails digging into his arm. “That would only make it worse. I could not bear to have someone harmed for my sake. How could I live with such a thing?”

Carlos gave a slow shake of his head.
Meu Deus.
Her father should have left her in that blasted convent where she belonged.

“And you think to prevent this dreadful fate by bribing Seurat?”

“Yes.”

“Could it be,
anjo,
beyond wishing to keep Philippe from sacrificing what remains of his soul, that a part of you wishes to rescue the madman from his well-deserved fate?” he demanded softly.

A wistful smile curved her lips. “Is that so wrong?”

“No.” Carlos heaved a sigh, knowing he was lost. “It might be foolish, but it is not wrong.”

“Then you will help me?”

A
FTER WINNING
C
ARLOS'S
reluctant agreement to assist with her daring scheme, Raine did not give herself an opportunity to enjoy her victory. There was still any number of obstacles to overcome. The first of which was discovering where Philippe had hidden away the necklaces that she had tossed back in his face.

It had taken the rest of the afternoon to locate them locked in the bottom drawer of his desk. Thanking the heavens that one of her father's scandalous friends had taught her the art of picking a lock, she at last had the jewels hidden at the bottom of her armoire.

On the morrow Carlos would travel to Paris and sell the gems. Once they had the money she would be prepared to meet with Seurat. Always presuming he did agree to meet with her.

With her task completed, she had taken a long bath and dressed for dinner. Oddly she still did not feel the relief she had been expecting.

Raine tugged her curls into a simple knot as she attempted to determine the source of her niggling unease. It could not be the knowledge that she might very well be hastening the day Philippe would rid himself of her presence. After all, that realization was responsible for the dull ache that clutched at her heart.

It was not until she entered the drawing room to discover Philippe awaiting her that she accepted what it was that troubled her.

Guilt.

Despite the fact that she was truly doing what she thought best for Philippe, she could not entirely dismiss the knowledge that he might not appreciate her efforts to rescue him. Especially when he discovered she had hocked the beautiful jewels he had so generously given to her.

Gentlemen were rarely reasonable when it came to their pride, and Philippe would no doubt be furious with her until he had the opportunity to accept that she had dealt with Seurat in the best means possible.

Not that it truly mattered, a voice mocked in the back of her mind. As soon as he realized that his brother was out of danger, he would be returning to his estates. Without her.

Her mouth was dry and her nerves raw as Philippe noticed her entrance and prowled toward her. He was attired in a black jacket and breeches that molded to his lean body with flawless perfection. His shirt was a crisp white and his cravat intricately tied with a diamond stickpin that shimmered with a cold fire.

In the flickering candlelight his classic beauty was near breathtaking.

Halting before her, Philippe lifted her hand to press a lingering kiss to her fingertips. A kiss that Raine felt to the tip of her toes.

“Ah,
meu amor,
you look beautiful, as always,” he said, straightening as he peered deep into her eyes.

Raine felt a honey heat spread through her body and instinctively tugged her hand from his grasp and stepped back. Her nerves were wound tight enough without adding the heady force of his potent sensuality.

“Thank you, Philippe.” She could only hope that her smile was not as stiff as she suspected. “Was your afternoon productive?”

A frown flickered over his countenance before he turned to cross the room and pour himself a measure of brandy. “Not nearly so productive as I had desired. Seurat seems to possess an uncanny ability to disappear.”

Her stomach churned, that ridiculous sense of guilt deepening as her gaze clung helplessly to the elegant grace of his movements.

Oh, Raine, cease this foolishness, she silently berated herself. She had made her decision, and if time proved her to be in the wrong, she at least had the comfort of knowing that she was following her heart. It was surely all that could be asked of her.

“Perhaps he has fled Paris,” she managed to mutter.

Sipping his brandy, Philippe leaned against the heavy sideboard and regarded her beneath half-lowered lids. “It is a possibility, but I think it unlikely. Paris is his home. If he leaves he will have nowhere to hide.”

She gave a nervous lift of her hands. “Yes, but he is not thinking clearly at the moment. He might bolt without concern that he will be sleeping in hedgerows.”

“Then my men will find him.” A cruel smile touched his lips. “There is no road left unguarded.”

Raine swallowed the lump in her throat, desperately hoping that he had not been quite so careful as he believed. After all, Seurat needed to be capable of sending her a message, and at some point they would have to meet.

“You appear to have thought of everything.”

He drained the brandy, and then, setting aside his glass he relentlessly paced toward her stiff form. Raine hastily backed away, coming against the wall with a sharp jolt.

His green eyes glittered with a strange fire as he stopped directly before her, his hands landing on the wall on either side of her head. Her heart hammered as she realized that she was effectively trapped. She possessed an absolute certainty that Philippe would never physically harm her, but she knew enough of the stubborn man to realize that if he suspected that she was harboring a secret he would not relent until he had forced it from her lips.

“You do not seem pleased by my thoroughness.”

“Of course I am.”

The autocratic nose flared at her strained voice. “Raine, what is troubling you?”

“Nothing is troubling me.”

He grasped her chin in a firm grip. “Do not ever attempt to lie to me,
meu amor,
you do not possess the skill for it. Tell me why you are behaving as if I have suddenly grown horns and a tail.”

“That is absurd.”

“Is it?” he growled, his eyes smoldering with annoyance. “Then why do you retreat from me as if you fear I might hurt you?”

“I…I suppose the thought of Seurat still manages to unsettle me.” She spoke the first words that came to her mind, unprepared when his expression abruptly softened and his fingers curled gently against her cheek.

“Raine, you have told me everything, have you not?” he rasped in obvious concern.

She blinked in bemusement. “What do you mean?”

“The bastard did not…”

“No,” she breathed, a blush staining her cheeks. “Philippe, I am quite unharmed. I did not mean to imply that the thought of Seurat frightened me. In fact, I feel nothing but sympathy for his madness.”

The concern disappeared as he dropped his hand and stepped back. Perversely, Raine felt a flare of disappointment as the warmth of his body was replaced by the chill in the air.

“Raine, I have attempted to indulge your tender heart, even when you blithely give away my favorite gloves, two sets of my finest boots and insist that I treat my servants as if they are my dearest acquaintances rather than my employees, but I will not allow you to waste your pity on that worthless madman,” he said sternly.

She wrapped her arms about her waist to quell the urge to shiver. “It is my pity to waste.”

“Not on this occasion.”

“Philippe, you are being ridiculous.”

“You belong to me, Raine Wimbourne.” The ingrained arrogance was etched upon every line of his countenance. “And that includes your loyalty.”

She pushed from the wall, her hands clenched at her sides. “I belong to no one, Philippe Gautier. And my loyalty must be earned, not commanded.”

He glared at her, clearly battling the urge to throttle her. Then, astonishingly, he turned away and shoved his hands through his hair.

“Damn you, Raine Wimbourne. Are you attempting to drive me to Bedlam?” he demanded in strained tones.

Raine's heart squeezed as she belatedly noted the weary line of his shoulders and the tightness of his body. It was obvious that past weeks had taken their toll on his ruthless strength.

“I think it is best if I return to my room.”

She moved to pass Philippe only to be halted as he reached out to grasp her arm and spin her about to face him.

“No,
meu amor,
you are not going anywhere until you have told me why you are behaving so strangely.”

“Philippe, I…” Her words broke off as she met his burning green gaze. There was annoyance smoldering in the crystal-clear depths, and something else. Something that might have been an aching need that was echoed deep within her.

“What?” he prompted softly.

All need to flee from his presence melted beneath the haunting magic he always managed to weave about her. Soon, perhaps within days, she would be tucked safely back in her father's cottage. And she would never, ever see this man again.

How could she possibly waste a single moment?

“I do not wish to fight with you.” She took a step toward him, her hand lifting to touch his face. “Not tonight.”

His breath caught, his arms sliding around her waist. “What do you wish?”

Raine allowed her fingers to skim down the lean cheek, shivering at the rasp of his dark whiskers and the heat of his skin. He was so magnificently male.

“I am not entirely certain,” she whispered unsteadily.

What did she wish?

To mean more to him than a passing fancy? To know that when he awoke she was his first thought, and when he went to bed it was her name he whispered? To be the very reason he lived?

Ridiculous, impossible dreams.

But, in this moment he was here. And he desired her. It was all she would ever have of him.

Vibrantly aware of the penetrating gaze that watched her every expression, Raine allowed her fingers to drift over his chiseled lips. Without warning he nipped at the tips of her fingers, his arms tightening until she was flush against the hard muscles.

“Do you know,
meu amor,
this is the first time you have willingly touched me?”

Feeling oddly light-headed she offered a faint smile. “Shall I stop?”

“Never.” His voice was harsh, but the hands that stroked her back were infinitely tender. “I find I enjoy being seduced by an exotic angel. You have leave to touch me anywhere at any time.”

“A rather generous offer,” she teased.

His head lowered to brush his lips over her forehead and down the length of her nose. He hovered a breath above her mouth.

“I cannot claim to comprehend your odd mood, but at the moment I do not wish to question my good fortune.” His lips captured hers in a kiss of stark hunger. “Come with me, Raine,” he whispered against her mouth. “Let me take you to my bed.”

Raine did not hesitate as she twined her arms around his neck. Time was slipping away and she would be a fool to waste a moment.

“Yes.”

With a low growl of satisfaction, Philippe scooped her into his arms and carried her up the stairs. Once in his rooms he locked the door and moved to lower her gently onto the mattress.

Raine propped herself on her elbows to watch as he stripped off his elegant clothes. The flickering fire bathed his skin with a warm sheen, playing over the broad width of his chest and the ripple of muscles. His lean, finely hewed features were already tight with desire and his eyes glowed like the finest emeralds.

He looked like a god, she thought in bemusement. Apollo himself, who filled the room with his seductive power.

Joining her on the bed, his fingers easily dealt with her own clothing, his skill briefly reminding her that he must have undressed dozens of women with the same urgent talent. It was a thought that she fiercely shoved aside. For once she did not want to think of the past or the future. She only wanted to enjoy the moment.

As if sensing her hesitation, Philippe cupped her face in his hands and regarded her with that unnerving intensity.

“Do not become shy,
meu amor,
” he murmured, his thumb stroking her bottom lip. “I have devoted too many nights to thoughts of having those sweet hands stroking my body to bear for you to stop now.”

His voice was soft, but Raine did not miss the hint of yearning that was threaded through the words. Her heart melted as she lifted her hands to press them to his chest. How many nights had he devoted to learning every sweep and curve of her body? How many soft cries had he wrung from her throat as he had kissed and nibbled endless paths of pleasure?

Tonight it would be her opportunity to discover the secrets of his body.

Clearing her mind of everything but the feel of his hair-roughened skin beneath her fingers, Raine explored his chest, lingering upon his nipples as a groan was wrenched from his throat. The sound only emboldened Raine as she leaned forward to replace her fingers with her lips.

Philippe arched against her, his hand curving about her neck as she flicked her tongue over his nipple.

“
Sim,
sweet angel, do not stop, I beg of you, do not stop.”

Raine had no intention of stopping. There was a heady satisfaction in knowing that it was her touch that was making him shudder. Her lips that were causing his heart to race.

Her hands continued their restless search, traveling over the slope of his shoulders, the length of his arms, the hard planes of his stomach. Her blood heated and her stomach constricted at the fascinating contrast of the smooth silk of his skin layered over his rigid muscles.