A Daring Passion (15 page)

Philippe laughed softly. “I am uncertain if that is a compliment or an insult, but possessing my natural share of vanity I shall take it as a tribute to my male charms.”

“Or perhaps to your obvious fortune,” she said tartly.

“A cruel blow,
querida.
” He moved so swiftly that Raine did not even have time to squeak before he had her pinned in the corner and his face buried in the curve of her neck. “Perhaps we should discover just what my…best assets truly are.”

Her lips parted to protest, and his head shifted to capture them in a deep kiss. His tongue stroked into the moist temptation of her mouth as his hand cupped the back of her head. A groan was wrenched from his throat as that sweet heat poured through him like warm honey.

Meu Deus.
This was what he had been seeking. This was why he had been furious when he had discovered she had disappeared. This was why he had postponed his trip to France. This was why he had ignored his servants' bemusement as he had devoted two days to skulking around the small Knightsbridge cottage like a man demented.

He could not allow this woman to slip from his grasp.

His lips devoured hers, his desire so sharp and intense he found himself struggling not to rip aside the offending cloak so he could feel the satin skin beneath.

He had thought to teach her a lesson. To prove to both of them that she was far from indifferent to his touch. But even as he felt her soften against him and her hands clutch at his arms in response, he realized the danger of such a lesson.

Raine Wimbourne was perhaps the only person in the world who possessed the power to shatter his ruthless control. She could make him forget everything but the pleasure of having her near. It was a power that he had no intention of revealing to anyone. Least of all this woman trembling in his arms.

With an effort he eased his kiss, giving her lower lip a light nip as he pulled back to study her flushed countenance.

“So what is your conclusion?” he asked, his heart beating so fast he feared she might hear it in the thick silence. “Is it only my wealth that charms the ladies?”

Her dark eyes held a hint of bemusement. Precisely the sort of bemusement a man wanted to see after kissing a woman senseless. Then astonishingly she was giving a shake of her head and her expression was hardening with determination.

“Tell me why you came after me, Philippe,” she demanded.

His lips twisted as he accepted that she possessed much of the same grim determination as he did. It was bound to make their relationship…interesting, to say the least.

“Because, I have need of you,” he said, knowing a distraction was in order.

She pulled back and Philippe reluctantly let her go. For the moment he needed his wits about him. Something that was impossible when her soft body was pressed to his.

“Need of me?” Her expression was wary. “What does that mean?”

“I must travel to France to discover a man known as Seurat. I cannot risk having him realize that I suspect him. Since no one knows that I have yet traveled to London, I only need a reason for being in Paris, a city I am known to despise. You will offer me that reason.” His gaze skimmed her beautiful face. “What man would not be willing to toss aside all prejudices and responsibilities to be with the young, innocent maiden he has lured from a local convent?”

She was shaking her head in denial before he ever finished. “No.”

“Yes,
querida.
”

“Philippe, please.” The hands that had lingered on his upper arms clutched him with a surprising force. “You must return me to my father. He will be worried about me.”

“You may write him a note from Dover to reassure him you are well if you desire. Of course, I will insist upon seeing it before it is sent.” He smiled without humor. “You will not be allowed to mention me or our destination.”

Her hands abruptly dropped to curl into tight fists in her lap. “You will take me against my will?”

“If I must.”

“I will only escape again.”

“No, you will not leave my side.”

“Do you intend to shackle me to you?”

His lips twitched at the delicious thought of having her shackled and at his mercy.

“An intriguing possibility, but unnecessary.”

“You surely cannot be so arrogant as to believe you can seduce me into remaining?”

“An even more intriguing possibility, and one I do not doubt would be most effective, but once again unnecessary,” he drawled.

She made a frustrated sound and a shudder shook her body as if she were struggling not to throttle him.

“If you have something to say, then say it, Philippe.”

“Very well.” He leaned close enough that their noses were nearly touching. “If you so much as think about straying from my side without my permission, I will personally promise the local magistrate that I will testify that your father is the Knave of Knightsbridge.”

There was a moment of shocked silence before Raine was at last provoked into doing what she had obviously longed to do since entering the carriage.

Pulling back her arm, she aimed her blow directly at his nose. It was not the feminine slap of most outraged ladies. Oh, no, this was a closed-fist punch that was intended to do as much harm as possible.

With an easy motion, Philippe grasped her wrist and halted the swinging arm. Keeping his grip on her wrist, he forced her hand back to her lap.

“Take care,
menina pequena,
” he warned.

“You…bastard,” she hissed.

His gaze narrowed. “I am not the one who chooses to endanger my family by prancing about the countryside and robbing innocent travelers.”

“I told you that my father only seeks to help those in need.”

“Innocent fool, do you truly think that is his only reason?”

She stiffened at his soft question. “If you mean to imply that my father keeps any of the money for himself…”

“No, his greed is not for silver or gold, but for the adoration of his neighbors.”

The dark eyes widened in disbelief. Clearly, she had never considered the possibility that her father was anything but the altruistic champion that she imagined him to be.

“That is ridiculous.”

Philippe gave a lift of his brow. “Is it? Can you tell me that he does not fully enjoy his role as the local Robin Hood? That he does not take pleasure in being the beloved savior of his neighbors? That he does not linger at the local inn while the people boast of his bravery?”

Her gaze dropped at his charge, but there was a mulish set to her features. She was nothing if not loyal. A character trait he greatly admired upon most occasions. At the moment, however, he struggled not to shake some sense into her.

“My father cares about others.”

“Perhaps that is how it all began, but he would never have continued once you were put in danger if it were not for his own vanity.”

She slowly lifted her head, her dark eyes wary. “Whatever my father's reasons, they are considerably more noble than a man who kidnaps a proper maiden and holds her against her will.”

Philippe smiled wryly. “Cast me as the villain if you must, Raine. But you belong to me now. And unlike your father, I know how to take care of my own.”

 

T
HE INN THAT WAS SITUATED
on Kings Road in Dover was small but scrupulously clean and possessed an unmistakable charm. Built in the oldest part of town, the inn had a fine view of the church of St. James and the beautiful white cliffs. It was also tucked close enough to Market Place that the narrow streets clattered with the sounds of heavy traffic at an indecently early hour.

With a groan Raine pulled the covers over her head. It had been the middle of the night when they had arrived at the inn and Raine had been so exhausted that she had not even bothered to protest when Philippe had led her up the narrow flight of stairs to her chambers.

Why waste her efforts on a losing battle? For the moment he held the upper hand and they both knew it.

She would do anything to protect her father.

Even allow herself to be kidnapped and hauled off to France by an arrogant lecher.

With a heavy sigh at the realization she would never get back to sleep with the noise outside her window, Raine tossed aside her covers and sat at the edge of the mattress.

Astonishingly she was alone in the room.

A few hours before Philippe had escorted her to the door and, after ensuring the room was clean and the windows properly bolted, had moved through the connecting door to his own chambers.

Raine had fully expected the man to insist on sharing her bed. He had, after all, made it clear that he wanted her as his mistress. And if she were perfectly honest with herself, she could not deny that during their brief kiss she had done little to convince him that she would be unwilling.

Damn the man. He was determined to destroy her life, and yet for the briefest moment when she had realized who it was standing next to that broken-down carriage, she had felt more than shock or even fear. She had felt…joy.

And to make matters worse, he had only to pull her into his arms and she had melted like one of those simpering misses she had always detested.

If he truly set out to seduce her, how could she possibly resist?

Her gaze shifted toward the connecting door that was thankfully shut tight. She was uncertain why Philippe had left her alone in her bed, but he must have a reason.

Some devious reason.

Lost in thought, Raine gave a small squeak when there was a sudden knock on the door leading to the outer hall.

Scrambling from the bed, she wrapped Philippe's heavy cloak about her and futilely attempted to smooth her tangled curls. For the moment she had only her shift, her breeches and a pair of old boots to her name.

She smiled wryly as she headed for the door. Perhaps Philippe had an entire wardrobe of female clothing stashed in his carriage.

He seemed to possess everything else.

Pausing at the door, she leaned against the thick wood. “Who is it?”

“Mattie,” a voice called. “I have yer breakfast.”

Raine's stomach growled at the mere mention of food, and with swift motions she had the lock pulled back and the door opened.

The plump maid with a round face and thick knot of fuzzy brown curls entered the room carrying a heavy tray.

“Where do you want it, then?” she demanded, her arms obviously straining beneath the load.

“On the table is fine.”

Raine followed the maid to the small table beside the window, her eyes widening as the woman whipped off the linen cover to reveal half a dozen plates filled with eggs, ham, toast, kidneys, fresh fruit and tea.

“Good heavens, this is far too much,” she breathed.

The maid straightened, a faint twinkle in her brown eyes. “Well, yer husband was very insistent that you have plenty of choices. He said as how you were a bit finicky. Cook said if there were anything in particular you wanted you need only send word to the kitchen.”

Husband? A queer sensation clutched at her heart before Raine was sternly dismissing it. It was nothing more than relief that Philippe had not punished her with the shame of allowing the entire inn to think of her as nothing more than a light-skirt.

“This all looks quite delicious. Please give my compliments to Cook,” she said.

A pleased smile touched the round face. “Oh, aye, Ma'am. I was also to tell you that Mr. Savoy commanded a bath be brought up after you have finished yer breakfast, if that be what you wish?”

Mr. Savoy? She could only presume that was Philippe.

“Yes, indeed. A bath would be most welcome.” She gave a faint grimace. “As would a change of clothes.”

“Oh, but…”

Raine gave a lift of her brows as the maid abruptly cut off her words with a flustered expression.

“What is it, Mattie?”

“I'm not certain if it is a surprise or not.”

At once consumed with curiosity, Raine stretched her lips into a reassuring smile.

“Do not fear, Mattie, there are no secrets between me and my…my husband.”

Clearly bursting with the desire to reveal her secret, Mattie leaned close.

“Well, I overheard Mr. Savoy say to Mr. Hill, the innkeeper, you know, as how he sent word ahead to have a number of new gowns be prepared for you. Then Mr. Hill says to Mrs. Hill that yer husband had spent a near fortune to make sure the dressmakers worked day and night so they should be delivered by this afternoon.”

Raine abruptly turned to stare blindly out the window as a mixture of emotions charged through her.

On one hand she was furious that Philippe would be so certain he would manage in his horrid kidnapping scheme. To actually have ordered her a new wardrobe? It went beyond arrogance.