If anything his expression only hardened at her reasonable words. “When I am finished with Seurat, none of us will ever again have to worry about the bastard. That much I promise.”
“But…”
“Enough, Raine,” he rasped, a muscle twitching at the edge of his jaw. “I will deal with Seurat as I see fit. Do not presume to lecture me as if I am a child.”
She pulled away from his lingering touch, her own temper flaring. “I hardly consider offering reasonable advice the same as lecturing.”
“If I desired your advice I would ask for it, querida. That is certainly not the reason that I brought you to Paris.”
A sharp, ridiculous pain raced through her. Why did she think that she could reason with this man? He obviously considered her opinion beneath his consideration.
“Of course not,” she said bitterly. “I am merely the means for you to lure your prey. And of course, a convenient body in your bed.”
A sense of prickling danger filled the carriage as he gave a short, humorless laugh.
“Not even a fool would ever consider you convenient.”
Raine ignored the lethal softness of his tone and the relentless expression that tightened his features. She had been forcibly reminded of her shameful position in his life and she wanted to strike out at him. To punish him for not giving a bloody damn for her own feelings.
“Then release me,” she charged. “I have served my purpose. Send me back to England and be done with it.”
His green eyes flamed with an unfathomable emotion as his arms abruptly wrapped about her and he hauled her onto his lap.
Philippe felt his control snap as her words sent a flare of possessive fury raging through his body.
It was enough that she chided him as if he were a witless idiot. That she thought to badger him to feel sympathy for the man determined to destroy his family. But to actually demand that he release her…
“Never. You are mine, Raine. Nothing will change that.”
Her mouth parted in protest, but Philippe swooped down to cover her lips in a possessive kiss. He wanted to brand her. To prove to her once and for all that there was no escape for either of them.
Sweeping his tongue into her mouth, he tasted her sweet freshness. Meu Deus, he needed to be inside her. He needed to have her spread beneath him so that he could claim her in the most primitive means of all.
With exquisite timing the carriage rolled to a halt in the gardens of his brother’s cottage and, keeping Raine cradled to his chest, Philippe vaulted from the carriage and headed directly toward the kitchen door.
He ignored the raised brows of the elderly cook and housemaids that swiftly scurried out of his path. Unlike Raine he felt no need to hide their intimate liaison. Especially not from a handful of servants.
Using the servants’ staircase, Philippe climbed to the upper floor that contained the rooms he shared with Raine. Once in the bedchamber, he kicked the door shut and slowly allowed her to slide to her feet.
Her dark eyes smoldered as she glared at him with an anger that matched his own.
“I am not a bundle of rubbish to be hauled about, sir,” she stated, her cheeks flushed. “I am perfectly capable of walking where I wish to go.”
“But you might not have wished to walk where I wanted you to go,” he pointed out. “I have simply ensured there was no tedious argument.”
Her chin tilted. “Only a bully must use his superior strength to win an argument.”
His gaze blazed over her stiff body, lingering on the frantic pulse at the base of her throat. He had made love to her a dozen times over the past days. He had tasted every inch of her ivory skin, he had tutored her in pleasuring him with her hands and mouth, he had listened to her sweet cries of fulfillment as he plunged them both to climax.
He knew the curves of her body more intimately than his own.
This was the point that he began to find his lovers a bore. No matter how hot a passion might flame it was destined to burn out. Usually as fast as it had sparked.
He should be packing her bags and sending her on her way.
Instead his entire body was throbbing with a hunger that he was beginning to fear would never be assuaged by any other woman.
Hell and damnation.
Unable to stop himself, Philippe reached out with a slow, deliberate gesture. He held her gaze as he put his hands on her pretty Spenser and with a sharp motion ripped it open. The buttons popped loose and fell to the wooden floor.
Raine made a strangled noise as he pulled the ruined jacket from her body and then treated the pale ivory gown to the same savage treatment. The ripping of the fragile silk sounded unnaturally loud in the silent room. For a moment Raine remained frozen in shock and Philippe allowed his avid gaze to drink in the sight of her alabaster beauty.
So fragile. So perfect.
Then she was reaching out to smack his chest with a closed fist. “You demon. Have you gone mad?” she rasped.
He ignored her futile attack as his hands busily set about ridding her of the boned corset and thin chemise.
“If I have gone mad you’ve no one to blame but yourself,” he drawled wickedly, his blood running hot as he regarded her dressed in nothing more than her stockings and dainty slippers. “You have bewitched me to the point that no other woman will satisfy me. Now you must bear the repercussions of your feminine wiles.”
“You blame me for your outrageous behavior?” She glared at him, although Philippe did not miss the shiver that shook her body. Whatever this strange obsession, he was not alone in it. “Now I know you are out of your wits.”
Philippe chuckled as his fingers blazed a trail down the delicate curve of her back. He could feel her flesh quiver beneath his bold exploration.
“And who else would I blame, meu amor?” he whispered close to her ear. “’Twas you that threw yourself in my path. You who tempted me with your sinful beauty. You who have inflamed my desires until they are like a sickness that I cannot cure.”
“I have told you the cure.” Her eyes flashing, she demanded, “Release me. Let me go.”
“I possess the cure,” he said just before he covered her mouth in a savage, biting kiss.
Raine flinched in surprise at his punishing onslaught, but she made no effort to pull away. Instead her fingers curled into the lapels of his jacket as if to keep herself upright.
Philippe splayed his hand at the curve of her back to press her against the throbbing hardness of his erection while his other hand cupped the back of her head as he devoured her mouth with the hunger that raged through him.
“Philippe,” she whispered in surprise as he suddenly swung her into his arms, and carried her to the nearby bed.
“Shh.” He put her down on the bed, the pale sunlight angling across her body as he wrestled his way out of his clothes. “I need to be within you.”
She watched him with darkened eyes, her hair tumbled from its tidy knot to spread across the crisp white pillow. He gave a low groan as he moved to cover her body with his.
He knew that a part of her continued to resent her captivity at his hands. Her independent spirit would always rebel at the least touch of the leash. And yet, she belonged to him. Every last satin inch of her.
“So soft,” he muttered. “So sweet.”
He brushed his fingers across her small breasts and felt her nipples harden in response. She answered his touch with a readiness that clouded his mind with urgent need.
She moaned and lifted her hands to roughly shove them into his hair. He kissed her, feeling her lips tremble and then finally part in capitulation.
Philippe wanted more. Needed more. With a wild heat he framed her face as he kissed her with a gentle ravishment. He stroked his tongue deep into her mouth, he nipped at her lips, he muttered rough demands that made her quiver beneath him.
He felt her yielding as she roughly kissed him back and arched her body in silent demand. He gave a low growl as his lips explored her female temptation. Her
breasts and the puckered tips of her nipples. She squirmed beneath his relentless quest, her fingers clutching at his hair as his mouth skimmed over her slender belly.
Philippe chuckled as he nuzzled the curve of her hip. He had made love to her in every position imaginable, and yet she remained oddly shy when he wished to pleasure her in such an intimate manner.
“Open for me,” he whispered.
“No…Philippe.”
“Open, meu amor. I want to taste you.”
With a relentless pressure he pulled her thighs apart, ignoring the sharp tugs on his hair as he pressed his mouth against her. Dragging his tongue through the honey-sweetness he teased and stroked with a practiced skill.
Just for a moment she battled against the pleasure coursing through her body. Then with a moan her hips lifted to press against his tormenting mouth. He waited until her breath was coming in soft pants before he slid back up her body. Covering her lips in a fierce kiss, he tilted his hips and entered her with a sharp thrust.
His fingers threaded through her satin curls as he pumped again and again, his ragged breathing echoing through the room until he at last felt the small pulses of her release that massaged his thick shaft. With a grunt of satisfaction he plunged into her one last time and poured his pleasure into her throbbing body.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
SHADOWS HAD BEGUN TO ENTER the bedchamber when Raine stirred from her sleep. With her eyes still closed she absorbed the feel of Philippe cradled close behind her, his arm curved over her waist and his hand cupping her breast with a possessive grasp. Even more shocking, she realized that his flesh was still deeply embedded within her.
Sensing the moment she awakened, Philippe shifted to trail his lips over the curve of her shoulder. His fingers toyed with her breast until her nipple was hard.
She wanted to protest. What sort of woman so eagerly responded to the touch of a man holding her captive? A man who saw her as nothing more than an object?
Unfortunately her body refused to listen to the voice of caution that warned she was courting disaster. Instead her eyes slid closed in aching need as he slowly began to rock himself inside her, his hand slipping down the length of her body to stroke the tiny nub of her pleasure.
He whispered soft words in her ear, refusing to increase his slow steady pace until her entire body cried out for the fulfillment he promised.
“Philippe,” she rasped, her fingernails digging into his forearm as he tormented her. “Please.”
“Do you want me, meu amor?” he demanded. She remained stubbornly silent and he gave the lobe of her ear a sharp nip even as he halted his delicious thrusts. “Say it, Raine. Tell me you want me.”
She nearly screamed in frustration. He had taken her freedom, her body and an increasingly dangerous part of her heart. Did he have to take her pride, as well?
It seemed that he did as he continued to hold himself still within her.
“Damn you,” she muttered. “Yes.”
“Say the words, meu amor. I want to hear them on your lips.”
“I want you,” she breathed, the words so low that they barely stirred the air.
Philippe moaned as he buried his face in the curve of her neck and began to drive himself into her with a raw, powerful force that had her swiftly arching in a shattering explosion.
She sighed deeply as he gently pulled from her, and then with a gentle care turned her onto her back so he could study her with his thoughtful gaze.
“I will never have enough of you,” he murmured softly. “Never.”
Raine ignored the treacherous warmth that flooded her heart. For the moment he was obsessed with her body. Why that should be so she hadn’t the faintest clue. But she did know that sooner or later he would tire of her. It was as inevitable as the sun rising. She would be the worst sort of fool to believe he could truly desire her to remain at his side.
Opening her mouth to offer a pert retort, Raine was halted by the embarrassing sound of her stomach rumbling in hunger.
A blush touched her cheeks as Philippe chuckled and stroked a familiar hand over her belly.
“I see that I have not yet managed to sate all of your hungers, you greedy angel,” he said as he brushed a kiss over her forehead.
“You were the one to keep me from my luncheon,” she reminded him in tart tones.
His smile was smug, not at all repentant for having kept her in bed half the day.
“So I did. Something easily rectified.” He rolled off the bed and reached for his robe. “Remain here and I shall return in a moment.”
Raine lay back on the pillows, watching as he tied the robe and moved with predatory grace toward the door.
He was a wondrous creature. A lion that stalked through the world and took what he wanted with a ferocious will. And for now he wanted her.
Bloody hell, her entire body still tingled with the force and pleasure of his touch. She always felt sated when she left his arms. But today, there had been a raw edge of savagery in his lovemaking that left her feeling oddly disoriented.
It was as if he had been determined to…what? To prove to both of them that she did belong to him? To ensure that she would never be able to forget his touch? To steal what was left of her battered heart?
What the devil did he want from her?
PHILIPPE HAD FILLED A TRAY with delicately roasted pheasant, broiled potatoes, peas in a cream sauce and a delicate pudding that was Raine’s favorite.
Returning to the bedchamber, he set the tray next to Raine and settled on the bed to watch her eat with a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach.
He had a dozen tasks that needed his attention. Not the least of which was meeting Carlos, who no doubt was already awaiting him in the garden. But still he lingered, his gaze watching her every delicate movement, his senses drinking in the scent and feel of her.
It was ridiculous. Absurd.
His lust was sated, his body pleasantly weary from the force of his climaxes. And yet still, there was a part of him that felt restless, unsatisfied. As if he were seeking something from this woman that he could not name.
At last he forced his lethargic muscles to stir, and he pulled on a pair of dark breeches and a rough wool coat that was more suited to a dockhand than a gentleman of means.
Setting aside the empty tray, Raine lay back on the pillows and watched him with those beautiful dark eyes. “Where are you going?”
Philippe’s groin tightened as his gaze swept over the fragile ivory features and the glossy amber curls spread across the pillows. The urge to rip off his clothes and return to the soft delight of her arms raged through him.
Meu Deus. The woman had cast a spell over him. That could be the only reasonable explanation.
“I do have duties that cannot be fulfilled by lying in bed with you, menina pequena,” he said harshly. More for his own sake than hers. He was beginning to fear that he could forget everything—his responsibilities, his family, even his precious vineyards—to be with this tiny slip of a girl.
She flinched at his words, even as her chin predictably tilted in a blunt challenge.
“Go then, sir. Go and do not return. It matters not to me.”
His anger fled as swiftly as it had risen, and with a self-mocking shake of his head Philippe moved to plant a fleeting kiss on her delectable lips.
“Seurat will have heard that I arrived in Paris by now, and unless he is considerably more stupid than I suspect, he will have managed to discover I am staying at this cottage.”
She frowned. “You think he will come here?”
“Not directly, but I do not doubt he has been sniffing around in the hopes of learning if I am a danger to his nefarious plans.” A cold smile touched his mouth. “I had Carlos hire a number of young lads to keep an eye on the cottage from a distance and come to him if they noted any strangers lurking about the place.”
“And did they?”
“He left a message waiting for me in the kitchen.”
Her frown deepened. “What do you intend to do?”
“That depends on what information Carlos has for me. I shall hopefully return before dawn.”
With one last kiss Philippe left the bedchamber and headed out of the cottage to cross the garden.
Dusk had already arrived, bringing with it an icy chill that sent the few citizens scurrying down the streets to the comfort of waiting fires. Philippe ignored the cold as he entered the cramped stables and waited for Carlos to detach himself from the shadows.
His friend was wearing the same rough clothing as himself, with the addition of a woolen cloak that he kept pulled around his large body as he glared at Philippe.
“Damn, I thought you intended to keep me waiting in this frozen garden for the entire night,” he groused.
Philippe shrugged. “I received your message only a short time ago.”
“And were obviously in no hurry to answer my summons.” Carlos studied him with a sardonic gaze. “Since when do you allow yourself to be distracted from your goal by a quick tumble?”
“Take care, Carlos. No one is allowed to show Miss Wimbourne disrespect.”
“What do you care? She is nothing more than a…”
With a blur of movement, Philippe had crossed the short distance and had his friend backed to the wall.
“I will not warn you again.”
“Be at ease, Philippe.” Carlos held his hands up in a gesture of peace, his eyes narrowed. “I am merely curious as to why this woman is so different than the others.”
Well, that was the question, was it not? Thankfully it was a question that he refused to contemplate at the moment.
“That is none of your concern,” he muttered.
Carlos gave a lift of his brows. “If you say so.”
Philippe grimaced as he stepped back and realized just how close he had come to planting his fist in his friend’s face. Meu Deus, he was truly losing his mind.
“Tell me what you discovered,” he demanded. “Was Seurat seen?”
“Yes, but the man is surprisingly cunning.”
A Daring Passion Page 19