A Daring Passion (32 page)

“Tell me why.”

Raine turned from the burning gaze, wrapping her arms about her waist. It was not a simple matter for her to confess her concern for Philippe Gautier. The man considered her no more than a pretty bauble that he could enjoy for a time before tossing it away. She should detest him. And still she found herself incapable of denying she possessed an overwhelming need to protect him. Even from himself.

“Philippe is not at all like his father or brother,” she at last said.

The man behind her made a rude noise. “He is a Gautier.”

“By blood, yes, but not by deed. He has no interest in devoting his days to pursuing frivolous diversions or squandering his wealth on his own pleasure. Quite the contrary. He is the one who has retrieved their estates from ruin and carries the burdens of the numerous tenants and servants who depend upon him. He is—” Raine abruptly broke off her words as she realized that she was revealing far more than she had intended. Sucking in a deep breath, she turned to meet Seurat's narrowed gaze. “He is certainly not a saint, indeed, he can claim any number of sins, but he is undeserving of your revenge.”

The wariness slowly eased as Seurat stepped forward and peered into her pale face. Whatever he read there seemed to satisfy his suspicions.

“You are in love with the man.”

P
ANIC CLUTCHED AT
R
AINE'S
heart. In love with Philippe? No. Perhaps she had reluctantly come to care for him. And certainly she desired him. There might even be a renegade part of her that occasionally craved his companionship.

But love?

Good God, only the most idiotic female would willingly give her heart to a man who was not only destined to break it in two, but one who would readily use such a weakness to trap her in his silken web. She would never be free of him. Even after he had moved on to another woman she would still be haunted and plagued by the irritating wretch.

She could not be in love. She would not allow it.

Ignoring just how ridiculous such a notion might be, Raine sternly thrust the thoughts from her mind. Now was not the time to be dwelling on such nonsense.

Actually, she preferred never to dwell on the dangerous thoughts.

Sucking in a deep breath, Raine squared her shoulders and prepared to barter as she had never bartered in her life.

“Are you willing to accept my bargain?”

Seurat gave a restless shrug. “What do you demand of me for these jewels?”

She regarded him with a steely expression. The years she had spent at the convent had not been wasted. There were few in the world who could match a nun for quelling others without ever having to speak a word.

“I will not give them to you until I have your word that you will halt your attempts to harm the Gautier family. Indeed, I do not want you to come near any of them again.”

“That is all?” Seurat asked.

“No.” She folded her arms over her chest, ignoring the realization that she must appear more like a grubby waif than an imposing woman capable of enforcing her will. “I also demand that you write out a confession that you forged the treasonous documents that you hid in Jean-Pierre's rooms, and I want the confession witnessed by a priest. Once you give me the paper, I will give you the jewels.”

Seurat paced toward the window as he gnawed his wellordered in unease. Raine remained patient as she carefully watched his tense profile.

She did not expect it to be an easy matter for him. He desperately desired the money. It would, after all, provide a comfortable existence and the sort of dignity that was denied him. And yet, the lust for revenge burned fierce in his heart.

He could not easily turn aside his thirst to punish the man who had stolen his glory and then tried to put an end to his life. It had been the reason he had survived, skulking in the shadows and desperately concocting his schemes for so many years.

The poison had gone so deep, and had devoured him for so long, it would no doubt be like cutting off one of his limbs to accept peace.

At last he turned back, licking his lips with a nervous motion. “And how do I know that these jewels are not paste?” he demanded.

Raine gave a lift of her brows. “Do you truly believe that Philippe Gautier would ever give his mistress fake jewels?”

Seurat grimaced as he realized how ridiculous his accusation had been. A Gautier might be many things, but frugal was not one of them.

“Even if they are real I would be arrested the moment I attempted to sell them. No one would believe that they were given to me as a gift,” he challenged. “If we are to make a bargain, then you must give me coin.”

Raine hated to admit it, but there was some truth to his words. Although there were always the sort of criminals willing to buy goods without tedious questions, they would hardly offer more than a pittance of what the necklaces were worth. And any legitimate jeweler would presume that Seurat had come by them in some illegal fashion.

Bloody hell. It would be up to her to somehow find the means of selling the blasted things. A task she did not have the faintest notion of how to accomplish. Certainly not without Philippe becoming suspicious.

“It will take a few days to have the jewels appraised and sold,” she grudgingly agreed. “I can deliver the money here when…”

“No,” Seurat growled, stepping close enough for that sour smell to assault Raine's senses. “I am not a fool.”

Covertly she took a step backward. “What do you mean?”

He gave a short, humorless laugh. “Do you believe that I will remain here if I allow you to leave?
Sacrebleu.
I might as well invite Philippe to come and murder me in my sleep.”

Raine stiffened as a rather ridiculous flare of annoyance raced through her. She did not like having her honor questioned. Even by a madman.

“I assure you that once I give my word it is to be trusted,” she said stiffly. “I will not tell Philippe where to find you.”

“I trust no one,” he rasped, his breath coming in short, nervous puffs as he dared to consider the tantalizing offer. How could he not consider it? He clearly lived a miserly existence that would only become worse in the years to come. Revenge would be a cold comfort as he struggled just to survive. “I will contact you with a place for us to meet in three days. A place that I can be certain that you will come alone.”

Raine reached out a hand, only to drop it when he flinched from her touch. “Then we have a bargain?”

“I do not know,” he muttered, rubbing his temples as if his head was aching. “I must think.”

“What is it that troubles you?” she demanded softly.

“I…”

They both froze as the sound of a tap on the door echoed through the room. It was so utterly unexpected that for a moment they merely stared at each other in surprise. Then there was the unmistakable scrape of metal as someone attempted to pick the lock. Seurat gave a soft hiss before his hand clamped on her wrist and he hauled her across the room and into the small bedchamber with startling strength.

Pulling the gun from his pocket, he regarded her with a fierce glare. “Stay in here and do not make a sound. If you try to call out I will kill whoever is on the other side of that door. Do you understand?”

Raine lifted her hands in a gesture of peace. “I will be as silent as a mouse.”

He gave one last threatening wave of his gun before he was moving out of the chamber and across the outer room. Raine held her breath as she heard the door being yanked open, silently praying that it was not Philippe on the other side.

Dear God, she was so close to convincing Seurat to bring an end to this madness, but if he were to be confronted in this fragile moment by the blood of his hated enemy, Raine had no doubt he would pull the trigger without thought, without remorse.

Pressing her hands to her mouth, she battled back the fierce urge to run screaming into the other room. For the moment she could only do more harm than good by attempting to interfere.

There was the sound of Seurat's harsh voice, and then strangely the high-pitched tones of a young boy. Her prayers became more frantic at the mere thought that some innocent child might be harmed. She did not believe Seurat was a heartless killer, but if he felt as if he were threatened he would not hesitate to strike out.

An eternity seemed to pass as Seurat barked out sharp questions and the lad responded in quick, soothing words. Raine could tangibly feel the tension that filled the small rooms, but thankfully there was no hideous sound of a firing pistol or a screaming child.

Her knees were feeling decidedly weak when at last the door was slammed shut and Seurat was charging into the room, his thin face flushed with emotion. Without a word to her, Seurat brushed past her frozen form and tugged a shabby bag from beneath the bed. Once it was open, he began tossing in his handful of belongings.

Raine gave a lift of her brows as she watched his frantic motions. “What are you doing?”

“I must go.”

“Go?” She frowned in surprise. “Where are you going?”

He closed the bag and grasped the threadbare coat from a nearby chair. “Someplace where I will not be found,” he said as he shrugged into the coat.

“You are leaving this moment?”

He turned to her. “That boy was looking for me. Even now he is rushing back to tell your precious Philippe Gautier where I can be found. I do not intend to be here when he arrives.”

Raine balled her hands in frustration. No, she could not allow him to flee until she was certain he would agree to her bargain.

“You cannot be certain that the boy has anything to do with Philippe.”

He gave a short laugh. “I have not survived so long without knowing when a trap is about to close upon me.”

“But what of our bargain? How can I contact you?”

With his belongings in order, Seurat once again reached beneath the bed and pulled out a length of rope.

“If I decide to agree to any bargain, I will be the one to contact you,” he warned as he slowly advanced with the rope. “Until then I need to find a place where I cannot be found.”

Raine abruptly began to back away. “What are you doing?”

He shrugged as he reached out to grab her arms in a biting clasp. “I am leaving and I need to make sure that you do not call unnecessary attention to my escape.”

“I have already told you…” Her words broke off in a small cry as she found herself facedown on the filthy mattress with her arms wrenched behind her back. “Damn you, you cannot leave me here like this,” she growled as she felt the ropes being tightly tied about her wrists and then attached to the bedpost. “I could die before someone finds me.”

“Your lover will soon be rushing to the rescue,” he said without the least hint of sympathy, shoving a rag into her mouth and fastening the ends behind her head. “Until then I need time to make my escape.”

She heard him leave the bed and gather the bag from the floor. With a flare of panic she kicked her feet, futilely attempting to loosen the bonds that held her. Blast it all. It was all very well for Seurat to assume that Philippe would soon be charging to the rescue. He was crazy, after all. Not to mention the fact that he was not the one gagged and tied to the bed.

What if the lad had nothing to do with Philippe? What if no one came and she was left to rot in this ghastly place? Or worse, what if she were discovered by some ruffian and…

“I shall send you word if I decide to take your offer,
mademoiselle.
” He gave a sudden, wild laugh. “Or perhaps I shall simply shoot Philippe Gautier and toss his body in the Seine. In either event you will have your answer.”

Anger and fear raged through Raine as she struggled against the damnable rope, not stopping until she felt the blood dripping down her arms.

Why the devil had she thought she wanted an adventure? If she managed to return to her father's small cottage she swore that she would never, ever begrudge the peace and quiet again.

 

P
HILIPPE WAS STANDING
in the alley behind Belfleur's shop when the sun settled behind the horizon. The surrounding buildings protected him from the frigid breeze, but it was still painfully cold as he restlessly paced the filthy cobblestones.

He could, of course, be within the shop, warming himself beside the fire and sipping the excellent cognac that Belfleur always kept close at hand. A far more sensible choice than standing in the cold while his blood turned to ice in his veins.

More sensible but impossible, he acknowledged as a shiver racked his body.

Within the confines of the shop he found it oddly difficult to breathe. As if his lungs were too tight to capture the elusive air. And worse were the nervous glances of his companions, who eyed him with a wary fear. Clearly they thought that he might begin a mad rampage on the streets of Paris at any moment.

Not that he hadn't felt the urge to do a bit of rampaging, he ruefully acknowledged. As the hours passed with no sign of Seurat or Raine, his entire being trembled with the need to strike out.

Instead he was forced to wait in the cold, dank alley as the various boys trotted up to make their reports.

It had been Belfleur's notion to make each of the lads return to the shop every two hours and inform them where they had been and where they intended to go next. That would make certain that if one was captured by Seurat they would know swiftly to set out a search and, more important, precisely where to start looking.

A wise notion, but it did slow the amount of ground that could be covered.

Philippe pulled a silver flask from his coat pocket and took a deep drink of the brandy. As he returned it to his pocket there was the scrape of approaching footsteps and he hastily turned, expecting one of the numerous boys to appear.

Instead it was a small woman wrapped in a thin cloak who slipped from the shadows to stand directly before him. In the flickering light of his lantern it was easy to determine that she was a pretty wench with a halo of blond curls and blue eyes. He could also determine that she was astonishingly young.

At least in age, he amended silently, as she reached up to smooth a hand over his chest. There was a weary knowledge in the depths of her eyes that revealed she had already experienced far too much of the world.