A Daring Passion (38 page)

R
AINE COULD NOT DENY
an edge of unease as she cautiously made her way through the cemetery. It was not that she feared Seurat would harm her. Or at least that was only part of her unease. Instead it was a nagging sensation that thus far it was all going too smoothly.

Since the night that she had crept down the stairs to discover that her father was the infamous Knave of Knightsbridge she had managed to stumble from one disaster to another. She was coming to expect trouble.

The fact that there had yet to be any was making her skin prickle and her palms itch.

Swallowing the nervous urge to chuckle at her absurdity, Raine skirted the edge of an ancient crypt. In the same moment a dark form suddenly appeared before her.

Raine pressed a hand to her heart as she recognized the painfully thin form of Seurat.

“Good Lord, you startled me,” she breathed as she came to a halt.

Despite the shadows it was obvious that Seurat had suffered over the past few days. Not surprising considering it must have been a difficult task to remain hidden from Philippe's numerous spies.

His hair stuck out in a bristle of gray and his face was filthy and unshaven. There was also a rather foul stench about him that made Raine wonder if he had been hiding in the sewers.

The hectic glitter in his eyes, however, had not altered. He was a man who was rapidly reaching the end of his sanity.

“You brought the money you promised me?” he demanded with a wary glance about the empty cemetery.

“Of course.” She clutched the carefully wrapped package beneath her cloak more tightly to her chest. “You have your confession?”

Seurat gave a low hiss, his hand reaching into his pocket to pull out a folded parchment. “I am a man of my word, unlike your lover. Now, my reward.”

Raine held out her hand. She could not afford to be duped. Jean-Pierre's life might very well hang in the balance.

“I wish to see the papers first.”

Seurat took an awkward step forward, his features twisted in anger. “You doubt my honor?”

Raine did not flinch, her hand still held out. “I wish to make certain that it has been witnessed by a priest.”

The man muttered a string of curses, but at last he shoved the parchment into Raine's hand. “There. Are you satisfied?”

Raine shifted so that the moonlight spilled on the paper in her hand. She was briefly startled by the elegant script, until she realized Seurat's duties in Egypt would have also included keeping records for his employees. Turning her attention to the actual words, she read through the confession and then studied the wax seal at the bottom.

It did appear that all was in order and she lifted her head to meet his glittering gaze.

“And I have your promise not to trouble the Gautier family any further?” she insisted.

“
Sacrebleu,
I have given you my word,” he groused, and then his gaze shifted over her shoulder, his eyes widening in horror. “Damn you.”

“What?”

“You have tricked me.”

Uncertain what the blazes was troubling the man, Raine slowly turned her head, her heart lodging in her throat as she watched Carlos bounding past her to tackle Seurat to the ground.

“No,” she screamed.

Seurat futilely battled the far larger man, his head turning to give Raine a wounded glare.

“May your soul rot in hell,” he rasped.

“Halt,” she cried. “Carlos, what are you doing? You gave me your pledge that you would not interfere.”

Arms, as hard as granite, suddenly wrapped around her from behind, jerking her painfully against a male body.

“Ah, but I gave you no such pledge,” a voice whispered in her ear with a lethal softness, a hand reaching beneath her cloak and wrenching the bundle of money from her grasp.

Raine knew immediately whose arms imprisoned her. There was only one man who could make her heart leap and her blood run hot with a mere touch.

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.”

 

R
AINE 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 possibility 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.