His brows lifted. “Not many women would view being kidnapped by a lunatic and bound to the bed so lightly.”
“There were moments when I was frightened,” she confessed. “But in truth Seurat is such a pathetic creature it is difficult to feel anything but pity when in his company.”
“He may be pathetic, but he is also dangerous and extremely cunning.”
“Yes, I know. I have not forgotten what he has done to Jean-Pierre.” She wrapped her arms about her waist, her stomach giving a sudden twist of unease. It had been a simple matter to consider asking Carlos for his assistance when she was in the privacy of her room. Now that he was standing before her, Raine discovered her nerves tightening. He was not the sort of man who could be led about by a charming smile and flutter of her lashes. If she confessed her plans and he decided they were outlandish he would not hesitate to put a swift, brutal end to them. She sucked in a deep breath and gave an unconscious tilt of her chin. “That is why I asked you to join me.”
He gave a short, mirthless laugh as he turned to stroll toward the fireplace. “I did not dare to hope it was for the mere pleasure of my company.”
Raine frowned as she studied his harsh profile. “You must know that I always enjoy your company. I consider you a very dear friend.”
He seemed to flinch as he briefly closed his eyes. “Meu Deus, why do you not stab me with a dagger and be done with it?”
Truly alarmed, Raine crossed the room to lay a hand on his arm. “Carlos? Did I say something wrong?”
There was a long, tense silence before he gave a sharp shake of his head and squared his shoulders. Whatever emotion had been gripping him was hidden behind a tight smile.
“Why did you wish to see me?”
Sensing his muscles flex beneath her lingering touch, Raine dropped her hand and regarded him with a wary expression.
“I…need your assistance.”
“You know I am ever at your service.” The dark features slowly eased as he sensed her apprehension. “Raine?”
“First I must have your word that you will say nothing to Philippe about what I am to tell you.”
Carlos leaned against the mantel. “That is a difficult promise to give, Raine. Philippe has been my friend since I was a mere child. I would not deceive him lightly.”
“Of course you would not and I appreciate your loyalty,” she said sincerely. “I would not ask this of you if I did not believe it was in Philippe’s best interest.”
A sardonic smile touched his lips. “Philippe may not agree with your notion of what is in his best interest. In fact, I am fairly certain he would not, considering you came to plead your case with me rather than him.”
“He is simply unable to be reasonable when it comes to Seurat.”
“Do you blame him?”
Raine twisted her hands together as she turned and walked toward the window. Over the past two days she had pondered her rash promise to Seurat on a hundred occasions. She well knew that her susceptible heart could be easily manipulated. Especially if she thought that some poor soul was being abused by a man of privilege. It offended everything she held dear. But while she had told herself Seurat might very well be playing her for a fool, she could not convince herself that he had been lying. His wounds were all too real.
“I do not blame Philippe, but I do blame his father,” she said as she turned back to meet Carlos’s steady gaze. “Louis Gautier is responsible for this entire mess.”
“I presume that Seurat managed to sway your sympathy with his well-rehearsed tale of how he was wronged?”
Her chin lifted at the hint of derision in his tone. “I think that having ruffians hired to murder you is a bit more than being merely wronged.”
The dark eyes narrowed. “Is that what he claimed?”
“It is, and I believe him.”
His lips abruptly twitched, his large body moving with startling grace as he crossed to lightly brush his finger down the line of her jaw.
“There is no need to poke out your chin at me, anjo. I am well enough acquainted with Louis Gautier to believe him capable of murder if it would further his dreams of glory.”
“Then you will help me?”
“That still depends upon what you want of me.”
“I have…” Words failed her beneath his intense gaze. Bloody hell. He was going to believe she had lost her mind. And she could not blame him.
“Raine?” he urged gently.
“I have made a bargain with Seurat,” she abruptly announced.
His fingers tightened on her face. “So Philippe was wise to question why you would have been released unharmed.”
Raine frowned at his strange words, but she refused to be distracted. “I do not believe Seurat would have harmed me regardless of our bargain.”
His brooding gaze followed the path of his fingers as he brushed them over the cut still obvious on her lip.
“This says otherwise.”
“It does not matter,” she said impatiently. “All that is important is that Seurat is willing to put aside his desire for revenge for a price.”
“And what is that price?”
“I have promised to sell the necklaces that Philippe gave to me and offer the profits to Seurat.”
Carlos dropped his hand and stepped away from the bewitching minx. Not just in shock, although he was certainly stunned by her outrageous suggestion, but because he wanted to do so much more than brush her lips with his finger. He wanted to crush that rosebud mouth in a kiss that would reveal the hunger that pulsed through his body. He wanted to tug off that delicate ivory gown and reveal the slender beauty that was hidden beneath. He wanted to plunge himself so deeply inside her that she could think of no other man but him.
Instead he turned away and struggled to think clearly. “Meu Deus. Do you have any notion what those necklaces are worth?” he rasped.
“Their worth is nothing in comparison to having Jean-Pierre freed and Philippe spared from the constant threat of Seurat plotting some devious revenge.”
He gave a disbelieving shake of his head. Surely there was no other woman who would so easily dismiss such priceless jewels? Certainly none of his acquaintances.
“The same thing will be accomplished when we capture Seurat and haul him to an English prison.”
“If you capture him.”
He instinctively turned, astonished she would even question the inevitable fact. He and Philippe had spent years tracking down the most cunning traitors. Men who had power and position and enough supporters to make it a dangerous proposition to spy upon them. The thought that they could not capture a stray lunatic was absurd.
“Never doubt he will be cornered like the rat he is, Raine.”
She waved aside his arrogant confidence. “Then Philippe will see that he is punished.”
Carlos shrugged. “Of course.”
“And so Seurat will suffer as Jean-Pierre and Philippe have already suffered.” Her beautiful features tightened with a fierce emotion. “And Louis, the actual villain, will remain unscathed.”
“Such is the nature of scoundrels.”
“It is…immoral, and deep within Philippe he will know that he is protecting his family at the cost of true justice,” she said, her voice throbbing with genuine outrage.
Carlos smiled wryly, resisting the urge to reach out and stroke the soft heat that flooded her cheeks. She was so frighteningly innocent. So pure.
“Perhaps that is how you would feel, Raine, but I do not believe that Philippe possesses your tender heart,” he said.
She heaved a deep sigh, her arms wrapping about her tiny waist. “You are wrong, you know. Philippe does not readily reveal his emotions, but he feels deeply.”
Carlos hastily swallowed his laugh. “You are the first to accuse him of that sin.”
Her dark eyes became pleading as she stepped close enough to cloak him in her sweet scent.
“Carlos, you know as well as I that Philippe bears the weight of far too
many burdens,” she murmured. “And that he holds himself responsible even when it is others who fail.”
He sucked in a sharp breath, struggling against the sensation he was tumbling into those wide, impossibly beautiful eyes.
“Holds himself responsible?” he demanded in bemusement.
“Yes.” Her hand reached out to touch his arm, sending a blaze of need roaring through his body. “He blames himself for his mother’s death, for Jean-Pierre being imprisoned, and if he is forced to destroy Seurat because his father is too weak-willed to return what he has stolen, then he will hold himself to blame for that, as well.”
Carlos ground his teeth, resisting the urge to inform the gullible woman that Philippe was very far from the saint she desired to paint him. It was not loyalty toward his friend that stayed his tongue. All was fair in love and war. No, he would quite willingly do whatever necessary to turn her from Philippe, but not at the cost of tarnishing that delicate purity.
That was something he would protect with his very life.
“Philippe’s desire to destroy Seurat no longer has anything to do with his family,” he said cautiously. “Seurat sealed his own fate when he kidnapped you.”
Her face paled, her nails digging into his arm. “That would only make it worse. I could not bear to have someone harmed for my sake. How could I live with such a thing?”
Carlos gave a slow shake of his head. Meu Deus. Her father should have left her in that blasted convent where she belonged.
“And you think to prevent this dreadful fate by bribing Seurat?”
“Yes.”
“Could it be, anjo, beyond wishing to keep Philippe from sacrificing what remains of his soul, that a part of you wishes to rescue the madman from his well-deserved fate?” he demanded softly.
A wistful smile curved her lips. “Is that so wrong?”
“No.” Carlos heaved a sigh, knowing he was lost. “It might be foolish, but it is not wrong.”
“Then you will help me?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
AFTER WINNING CARLOS’S reluctant agreement to assist with her daring scheme, Raine did not give herself an opportunity to enjoy her victory. There was still any number of obstacles to overcome. The first of which was discovering where Philippe had hidden away the necklaces that she had tossed back in his face.
It had taken the rest of the afternoon to locate them locked in the bottom drawer of his desk. Thanking the heavens that one of her father’s scandalous friends had taught her the art of picking a lock, she at last had the jewels hidden at the bottom of her armoire.
On the morrow Carlos would travel to Paris and sell the gems. Once they had the money she would be prepared to meet with Seurat. Always presuming he did agree to meet with her.
With her task completed, she had taken a long bath and dressed for dinner. Oddly she still did not feel the relief she had been expecting.
Raine tugged her curls into a simple knot as she attempted to determine the source of her niggling unease. It could not be the knowledge that she might very well be hastening the day Philippe would rid himself of her presence. After all, that realization was responsible for the dull ache that clutched at her heart.
It was not until she entered the drawing room to discover Philippe awaiting her that she accepted what it was that troubled her.
Guilt.
Despite the fact that she was truly doing what she thought best for Philippe, she could not entirely dismiss the knowledge that he might not appreciate her efforts to rescue him. Especially when he discovered she had hocked the beautiful jewels he had so generously given to her.
Gentlemen were rarely reasonable when it came to their pride, and Philippe would no doubt be furious with her until he had the opportunity to accept that she had dealt with Seurat in the best means possible.
Not that it truly mattered, a voice mocked in the back of her mind. As soon as he realized that his brother was out of danger, he would be returning to his estates. Without her.
Her mouth was dry and her nerves raw as Philippe noticed her entrance and prowled toward her. He was attired in a black jacket and breeches that molded to his lean body with flawless perfection. His shirt was a crisp white and his cravat intricately tied with a diamond stickpin that shimmered with a cold fire.
In the flickering candlelight his classic beauty was near breathtaking.
Halting before her, Philippe lifted her hand to press a lingering kiss to her fingertips. A kiss that Raine felt to the tip of her toes.
“Ah, meu amor, you look beautiful, as always,” he said, straightening as he peered deep into her eyes.
Raine felt a honey heat spread through her body and instinctively tugged her hand from his grasp and stepped back. Her nerves were wound tight enough without adding the heady force of his potent sensuality.
“Thank you, Philippe.” She could only hope that her smile was not as stiff as she suspected. “Was your afternoon productive?”
A frown flickered over his countenance before he turned to cross the room and pour himself a measure of brandy. “Not nearly so productive as I had desired. Seurat seems to possess an uncanny ability to disappear.”
Her stomach churned, that ridiculous sense of guilt deepening as her gaze clung helplessly to the elegant grace of his movements.
Oh, Raine, cease this foolishness, she silently berated herself. She had made her decision, and if time proved her to be in the wrong, she at least had the comfort of knowing that she was following her heart. It was surely all that could be asked of her.
“Perhaps he has fled Paris,” she managed to mutter.
Sipping his brandy, Philippe leaned against the heavy sideboard and regarded her beneath half-lowered lids. “It is a possibility, but I think it unlikely. Paris is his home. If he leaves he will have nowhere to hide.”
She gave a nervous lift of her hands. “Yes, but he is not thinking clearly at the moment. He might bolt without concern that he will be sleeping in hedgerows.”
“Then my men will find him.” A cruel smile touched his lips. “There is no road left unguarded.”
Raine swallowed the lump in her throat, desperately hoping that he had not been quite so careful as he believed. After all, Seurat needed to be capable of sending her a message, and at some point they would have to meet.
“You appear to have thought of everything.”
He drained the brandy, and then, setting aside his glass he relentlessly paced toward her stiff form. Raine hastily backed away, coming against the wall with a sharp jolt.
His green eyes glittered with a strange fire as he stopped directly before her, his hands landing on the wall on either side of her head. Her heart hammered as she realized that she was effectively trapped. She possessed an absolute certainty that Philippe would never physically harm her, but she knew enough of the stubborn man to realize that if he suspected that she was harboring a secret he would not relent until he had forced it from her lips.
“You do not seem pleased by my thoroughness.”
“Of course I am.”
The autocratic nose flared at her strained voice. “Raine, what is troubling you?”
“Nothing is troubling me.”
He grasped her chin in a firm grip. “Do not ever attempt to lie to me, meu amor, you do not possess the skill for it. Tell me why you are behaving as if I have suddenly grown horns and a tail.”
“That is absurd.”
“Is it?” he growled, his eyes smoldering with annoyance. “Then why do you retreat from me as if you fear I might hurt you?”
“I…I suppose the thought of Seurat still manages to unsettle me.” She spoke the first words that came to her mind, unprepared when his expression abruptly softened and his fingers curled gently against her cheek.
“Raine, you have told me everything, have you not?” he rasped in obvious concern.
She blinked in bemusement. “What do you mean?”
“The bastard did not…”
“No,” she b
reathed, a blush staining her cheeks. “Philippe, I am quite unharmed. I did not mean to imply that the thought of Seurat frightened me. In fact, I feel nothing but sympathy for his madness.”
The concern disappeared as he dropped his hand and stepped back. Perversely, Raine felt a flare of disappointment as the warmth of his body was replaced by the chill in the air.
“Raine, I have attempted to indulge your tender heart, even when you blithely give away my favorite gloves, two sets of my finest boots and insist that I treat my servants as if they are my dearest acquaintances rather than my employees, but I will not allow you to waste your pity on that worthless madman,” he said sternly.
She wrapped her arms about her waist to quell the urge to shiver. “It is my pity to waste.”
“Not on this occasion.”
“Philippe, you are being ridiculous.”
“You belong to me, Raine Wimbourne.” The ingrained arrogance was etched upon every line of his countenance. “And that includes your loyalty.”
She pushed from the wall, her hands clenched at her sides. “I belong to no one, Philippe Gautier. And my loyalty must be earned, not commanded.”
He glared at her, clearly battling the urge to throttle her. Then, astonishingly, he turned away and shoved his hands through his hair.
“Damn you, Raine Wimbourne. Are you attempting to drive me to Bedlam?” he demanded in strained tones.
Raine’s heart squeezed as she belatedly noted the weary line of his shoulders and the tightness of his body. It was obvious that past weeks had taken their toll on his ruthless strength.
“I think it is best if I return to my room.”
She moved to pass Philippe only to be halted as he reached out to grasp her arm and spin her about to face him.
“No, meu amor, you are not going anywhere until you have told me why you are behaving so strangely.”
“Philippe, I…” Her words broke off as she met his burning green gaze. There was annoyance smoldering in the crystal-clear depths, and something else. Something that might have been an aching need that was echoed deep within her.
“What?” he prompted softly.
A Daring Passion Page 31
