Turning her head, she glared at her captor. “Philippe. What are you doing here?”
His expression was grim, his eyes as hard as emeralds. “Do not say a word, meu amor.”
“But…”
His arms tightened until they threatened to cut off her breath. “Not a word if you value your soft hide.”
Philippe waited until he was certain that Raine would heed his warning, then, ignoring the urge to shake the exasperating woman until her teeth rattled, he loosened his grip and stepped past her.
In silence he watched as Carlos at last subdued the struggling Seurat and hauled him to his feet by the cuff of his coat.
The man who had been his family’s nemesis for years was smaller than he expected. His head would barely reach Philippe’s chin and he was thin enough that it appeared a stiff breeze would send him tumbling. Hardly the fearsome opponent of Philippe’s imagination.
At the moment, however, he was indifferent to the realization that such a tiny, pathetic creature could have caused him such grief. He was even astonishingly indifferent to the fact that Seurat was captured and his troubles had seemingly come to an end.
For the past half hour he had been consumed with the driving fear that Raine was about to slip from his grasp. It had burned through him with a searing fury that refused to be dismissed, even now that he was forced to accept that he might have been mistaken in her purpose.
Perhaps Raine had not intended to leave him. At least not on this night. But what of tomorrow? Or the next day? She had already proved that she was capable of deceit, of plotting behind his back and accomplishing the impossible feat of luring Seurat from his well-hidden lair. She had even managed to seduce Carlos into her web. Who was to say that she might not use those talents to escape him the next occasion he was forced to leave her side?
The thought was intolerable. Beyond intolerable.
Raine was his. Every silken inch of her belonged to him.
And he was sharply aware that the time had come to take the necessary steps to make sure that she was firmly and irrevocably bound to him.
But first he had to put an end to Seurat.
Concealing his burning awareness of the vexing female standing directly behind him, Philippe regarded Seurat with a frigid expression of disgust.
“Carlos, take our prisoner and return to England with him.” With a flick of his wrist he tossed the packet of money toward the younger man. “Hire as many men as necessary to make sure he does not escape.”
Carlos easily caught the bundle and tucked it beneath his jacket. Just for a moment he narrowed his gaze, as if he were contemplating the notion of refusing the command. After all, traveling to England would take him far from Raine.
Philippe took a step forward, his hard gaze warning his friend that it would not matter how near he might be to Raine. She would never be his.
With a grimace, Carlos gave his captive a sour glance. “And once I am in England?”
“Take him to my town house,” Philippe said, his thoughts sorting through the swiftest means of having his brother released. “I will send a message to Windsor so that the king is aware of your arrival.”
Carlos gave a choked cough. “Not the most comforting thought. I have no desire to awaken one morning to discover the king waiting in the foyer.”
Philippe smiled wryly, ignoring the various curses that Seurat was spewing. “Do not fear, the king will not bestir himself to such an effort. He will command that you bring your guest to the palace to make his confession.”
Carlos gave the small man a shake. “And if he will not confess?”
Philippe did not hesitate. “Kill him.”
Seurat gave a shrill moan, but neither gentleman paid him any heed. Instead they locked gazes in the silver moonlight.
“While I am rescuing Jean-Pierre what do you intend to do?” Carlos demanded.
“That, amigo, is none of your concern,” Philippe said softly.
Carlos narrowed his gaze. “Philippe.”
“Return your favors to those women who are forever tossing up their skirts for you.” Philippe allowed a smile of anticipation to touch his lips. “Raine will soon be beyond yours, and every other man’s, touch.”
RAINE WAS FORCED TO BITE her tongue as Carlos hauled poor Seurat across the cemetery and toward the carriage that was waiting behind the church.
Damn and blast. Had she not suspected that something was bound to come along and spoil her excellent plan?
Unfortunately, not even her darkest imaginings had envisioned Philippe Gautier arriving like an avenging angel and destroying all that she had attempted to achieve.
Which was foolish. When was Philippe not charging in and making a muck of her life? It was beginning to seem as if that was his sole duty in this world.
As if sensing her brooding thoughts, Philippe turned to her and held out an imperious hand.
“Come.”
She took a step back, her brows drawn together in annoyance. “No, Philippe, you must listen to me.”
He growled low in his throat, moving forward until he loomed over her with intimidating force. “I have told you not to speak.”
“I will bloody well speak whenever I wish, and I am not going anywhere until you hear me out,” she retorted.
His expression was cold and edged with a dangerous intent. “I have obviously coddled you too well, Miss Wimbourne. You believe you can flaunt my commands without danger of reprisal. That assumption is about to come to an end.”
Her lips parted to demand his meaning when his hands were encircling her waist, and before she knew what was occurring, she found herself tossed over his shoulder as he headed toward the nearby road.
Caught off guard, it took Raine a moment to gather her rattled wits. Had the man lost his mind? She was no sack of potatoes to be toted about in such a manner.
With her legs firmly trapped by his arms, she could do nothing but pound her fists against his solid back.
“What are you doing? Put me down.”
Her efforts were rewarded by an unexpected smack to her backside. “If you do not cease your struggles I will bind and gag you, do you understand?”
“Of course I do not understand.” She gave his back another blow. “Have you taken leave of your senses?”
“Without a doubt,” he muttered, halting before the horse that he had hidden in the nearby trees.
With an ease that revealed the coiled strength in his lean body, Philippe tossed her into the saddle and vaulted behind her. Once settled, he wrapped a binding arm about her waist and urged the stallion into a brisk pace.
Raine was jerked against his chest and instinctively grasped his arm as the mount slipped on the precarious ice.
“Are you attempting to break our necks?”
“You are right,” he whispered next to her ear, slowing the horse to a more cautious pace. “I might be willing to risk your pretty neck, but I am rather fond of my own.”
She tilted back her head to glare into his forbidding countenance. “If you intend to be in such a foul mood for the duration of our journey, I would prefer to walk.”
His arm tightened. “If you are wise you will not press me at this moment, meu amor. My honor prohibits me from striking you, but there are any number of satisfying means of punishing you.”
She opened her lips to inform him precisely what she thought of his dire threats, only to snap them shut again as the horse once again slipped on the ice. For the moment it seemed preferable to allow Philippe to keep his attention on the treacherous road.
Besides, she could not deny the faintest hint of fear that clutched at her stomach. She had seen Philippe in a fury before. Indeed, she seemed to possess a talent for riling his temper. But there was something…implacable about his fierce mood. A remote starkness. As if she had unwittingly crossed some line that had altered their relationship forever.
The thought made her heart clench with a raw pain.
She had known that it was a possibili
ty that Philippe might not understand her desire to assist Seurat. That he might be angry until he realized that this solution was best for all involved. But she had not expected this impregnable barrier that made her wonder if he intended to toss her from the cottage the moment they returned.
The thought plagued her as they climbed the steep hill and at last reached the gardens of the cottage. Philippe was swiftly off the horse and plucking Raine from the saddle when one of the large men that Philippe had hired to keep guard on the cottage stepped from the stables.
Keeping Raine cradled in his arms, Philippe gave a jerk of his head toward his horse.
“Take care of my horse and then come to the kitchen. I will join you there.”
The man did not so much as lift a brow at the sight of Raine being held so intimately by his employer as he gave a nod of his head. Perhaps it was a common sight for hired thugs.
“Oui, monsieur.”
Striding toward the cottage, Philippe did not spare even a glance toward the woman he held in his arms. It was as if he had forgotten her altogether, Raine acknowledged with a jaundiced glare at his perfect countenance. And perhaps it was for the best. It was better to be forgotten than to be dumped in the rose bushes.
They reached the cottage and, lifting his leg, Philippe kicked open the back door to carry Raine over the threshold.
With a squeak of surprise Madame LaSalle rushed forward, her hands pressed to her ample breasts as she regarded Raine clutched to Philippe’s chest.
“Blessed Mary, has there been an accident?”
“We are both well, Madame LaSalle,” Philippe assured the fluttering woman, moving past her with a tight smile. “All we need is a measure of privacy.”
The woman flushed as she gave a small chuckle. “Oh. Très bien.”
“Does it please you to embarrass me?” she muttered as they headed out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
His cold green gaze lowered to meet her mutinous expression. “The only thing that would please me at the moment is to place you over my knee and acquaint your backside with my hand.”
She flinched at his biting tone. “You said you did not strike women.”
“Then I shall have to find some other means of pleasing myself.” He stepped into his rooms and without warning Raine found herself set roughly on her feet. She was still attempting to regain her balance when Philippe moved to the connecting door that led to her chambers and turned the key in the lock. Slipping the key into his pocket, he turned and regarded her with an aloof, unreadable expression. “Take off your clothes.”
Whatever Raine had been expecting it was not this. Pressing her hands to her heaving stomach, she backed toward the center of the room.
“What?”
He put his hands on his hips, his expression icy. “I spoke quite clearly. Take off your clothing.”
“No.” She gave a wild shake of her head. “I will not.”
“Then I will do it for you.”
Her eyes widened in disbelief, but before she could do more than take a few hasty steps backward, he had his arms around her and easily tossed her onto the large bed.
Raine fought him, of course, kicking and scratching as each piece of clothing was roughly ripped from her body. She could not accept that Philippe would force himself on her. Not that it would be force for long, a tiny voice whispered in the back of her mind. He had only to touch her to make her melt in need. But, to be coerced against her will was no better.
“Brute,” she muttered futilely struggling as he tugged off the last of her garments to leave her stark naked. “Arrogant, loathsome beast.”
Astonishingly he did not join her on the bed. Instead he stood looming over her, a satisfied smile on his lips.
“Now attempt to escape me, Miss Wimbourne,” he challenged.
Raine frowned in puzzlement, a puzzlement that only deepened as he smoothly gathered her clothing from the floor and headed for the door. Without a backward glance he stepped out of the room and closed the door firmly behind him. In the silence Raine heard the key tumble the lock.
He had effectively trapped her in the room, she realized with a vague sense of confusion. With both doors locked her only hope of escape would be the window, and no matter how desperate she might be, she was not about to risk her neck by leaping from such a height. Especially not when she was stuck without a stitch of clothing.
But why?
Did he think she might flee from him in terror? Did he truly believe her to be that cowardly?
Absently, Raine wrapped the covers over her shivering body. Despite the fire that burned with cheery persistence in the grate, she felt chilled to the bone. Only to be expected, she supposed after standing in the damp cemetery for so long. But more than that, she realized that the cold had seeped into her heart.
She had failed. Miserably.
Seurat was captured and convinced that she had betrayed him. Carlos was being commanded to England and obviously in Philippe’s bad graces.
And she…
Well, truth be told, she did not know what Philippe intended for her. All she knew was that she had made a mess of the entire situation and she had no one to blame but herself.
Brooding on the disastrous night, Raine felt her heart leap as the lock was turned and Philippe stepped through the door. Closing it behind him, he placed the tray that he held on a low table and then calmly began peeling off his elegant garments.
Raine scooted to a sitting position on the bed, the covers pulled to her chin.
“What are you doing?”
He did not falter as he dealt with the last of his clothing and then strolled across the room with complete indifference to his nudity. Raine did not want to watch, but how could she resist? The play of firelight over the sculpted lines of his body was enough to steal the wits of any woman.
Seemingly unaware of her lingering gaze, he reached to pull on a thick robe and tied it firmly about his waist as he returned to the table and plucked the napkin from the tray.
“First I intend to enjoy the dinner that you so rudely interrupted.”
Raine gritted her teeth, telling herself that she was not the least disappointed that he had was not eagerly leaping into the bed beside her.
“If your dinner was interrupted, the blame is your own,” she said, her tone peevish even to her own ears. “I certainly did not seek your presence.”
He held her gaze as he ate a portion of the ham. “No, I do not suppose you did. Tell me, meu amor, what did you hope to accomplish with your little ploy?”
Her lips thinned as she pointed to the parchment that had fallen to the floor while he had so efficiently stripped her of her clothing.
“That.”
He gave a lift of his brows as he continued to consume the large amount of food piled on his plate.
“What is it?”
Her temper stirred at his obvious indifference. “It is a confession from Seurat that is signed by a priest. If you had not interfered, my little ploy would have rescued Jean-Pierre without all this fuss.”
He wiped his hands on a napkin and reached for his glass of wine. “By this fuss I presume you mean Seurat’s well-deserved punishment?”
“I believe he has been punished enough.”
The green eyes darkened to reveal he was not as composed as he would have her believe.
“But it was not your decision to make,” he reminded her in a cold voice. “You knew that I would not approve of your absurd plan. That is, after all, why you chose to turn to Carlos for assistance, is it not?”
She unconsciously dampened her dry lips. “I thought it best for everyone involved.”
“Best?” He moved to tower over the bed. Instinctively, Raine burrowed deeper into the pillows behind her. “You thought it for the best to offer the enemy that I have sought for months my own fortune to allow him to escape?”
“It was not your fortune.” She clutched the blankets even tighter. “The money came from the necklaces that you gave to me.
”
“Necklaces that you refused to accept, if you will recall, meu amor,” he drawled with a humorless smile.
She bit her bottom lip, eying him warily. It was unnerving to realize that she had not the least notion of what was going on behind that aloof expression.
“Is that why you are angry? Because I sold the necklaces?”
His body stiffened, but his expression did not alter. His command was strangely frightening.
“It no longer matters. Seurat will soon be in the king’s hands and Jean-Pierre will be released. Your betrayal has at least brought an end to the bastard.”
Her eyes widened. Not only at his callous dismissal of Seurat, but at his blunt accusation.
“I did not betray you.”
“No?”
“No.” She forced herself to meet his searing gaze. “I told you that I was hoping to halt Seurat’s revenge and bring an end to your need to destroy him. Even if you will not admit the truth, you must know deep in your heart that the blame of this horrid situation belongs on your father’s shoulders. You seek to punish the wrong man.”
“I shall punish whomever I desire,” he warned.
“Even if it is wrong?”
He made a sound deep in his throat as he turned and paced toward the fireplace. She did not need to read his mind to realize he was annoyed by her refusal to meekly accept his verdict of Seurat’s guilt.
“You seek to be my conscience?” he demanded.
“It would seem that someone needs to be.”
“Enough, Raine,” he growled. “I have no desire to speak of Seurat. Instead we shall concentrate on what I am to do with you.”
Her mouth was suddenly dry as she realized what was coming. This was it. He was going to inform her that he was done with her.
She told herself that she was relieved. At last she could return to her father and the life he had stolen from her. These brief days of madness would soon become nothing more than a distant dream.
Somehow the words did not lighten the heaviness that tugged at her heart, but she managed a stiff smile as she swallowed the lump in her throat.
“You have accomplished what you desired in Paris,” she said in a voice that thankfully did not shake. “I assume that you will be returning to Madeira.”
A Daring Passion Page 34