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?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
THE 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 t
o 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.”
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.”
IT 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.”
A Daring Passion Page 30