A Daring Passion

by Rosemary Rogers

  Josiah smiled wryly at her shock. “Since you’ve been gone I have discovered that Harper is not a bad sort. Certainly he is the only one in the village capable of giving me a decent game of chess. And since I have given up my career as the Knave of Knightsbridge, I no longer have need to consider him my enemy.”

  “Good heavens. You have retired your role as highwayman?”

  His smile slowly faded, his pale countenance showing every one of his years as he gave a nod of his head.

  “Yes.”

  Raine reached out to lay a hand on his arm. “Why? You were doing such good.”

  “But at what cost?”

  “I do not know what you mean.”

  “I mean, that I was blinded by my own arrogance,” he said with a sigh. “Even if I did manage to offer a bit of assistance to my friends, I was an idiot to risk my neck when I knew that I was all you have left in the world. And even more an idiot to ever allow you to put yourself in danger.”

  Raine abruptly realized how her father must have tormented himself after her disappearance. The lingering pain was etched in the lines of his face and in the depths of his eyes. He clearly blamed himself for all that had happened.

  “You did nothing,” she said firmly, her fingers squeezing his arm. “It was my decision to become the Knave of Knightsbridge.”

  “Only because I left you no choice. You could hardly stand aside and watch me hang. No. I have not been a good father to you, pet.”

  Raine’s heart twisted at his words. “Do not say that.”

  “It is true.” His expression hardened as he covered her fingers with his own. “After you were taken from me I swore an oath I would do better. And I intend to keep that oath.”

  “Oh, Father,” she breathed, reaching up to lay a soft kiss on his cheek.

  “I do love you, Raine.”

  She smiled at his gentle words, a portion of her aching heart easing as she gazed tenderly at her father. Perhaps Philippe would never return her feelings, but she had a home and a family who cared for her.

  It was more than many women had.

  “And I love you, Father.”

  His hand tightened on her fingers. “You must know that there is nothing I desire more than to see you happy.”

  She gave a small jerk as she tugged her fingers from his grasp. “I am happy,” she muttered.

  Josiah gave a click of his tongue. “Raine, I may be old, but I am not completely blind. I see the shadows that lurk in your eyes. That bastard hurt you and you are still hurting.”

  Her lips parted to deny the claim, only to close at her father’s steady gaze. What was the point in lying? She was not nearly a skilled-enough actress to conceal her aching heart. All she could do was assure him that she did not intend to become a tedious companion.

  “I cannot deny that he broke my heart. Or that I miss him,” she said, her voice carefully bland. “But, I am not silly enough to devote my life to pining for a gentleman who has no doubt forgotten my existence.”

  “Good.” Her father’s smile returned, a sly glint in his eyes. “Then perhaps you will join me in the village. The magistrate always manages to casually inquire when you might return. You made quite an impression on him.”

  Raine resisted the urge to shudder. The magistrate had been a perfectly nice gentleman, but she had no romantic interest in him. She had no romantic interest in any man.

  “A tempting offer, but I am not yet ready to encourage the attentions of Mr. Harper.”

  “Raine, you cannot hide yourself in this cottage forever,” her father chided.

  Raine shrugged. “I have no intention of doing so.”

  “Then, what are your plans?”

  Raine rose to her feet as she gazed out the window, her expression pensive. “I have been thinking that I might begin classes for a few of the girls in the village. It would take some time to start a proper school, but for now I could at least make sure they learn to read and write.”

  A silence filled the room, broken only by the crackle of the fire. At last she heard her father stir and rise to his feet. Stepping behind her, he laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

  “Raine.”

  Turning, she studied the odd expression on her father’s face. “What?”

  “You are—” he hesitated and cleared his throat “—you are a remarkable young woman.”

  A ridiculous blush touched her cheeks. “Hardly that.”

  “Yes, you are.” Josiah’s smile held a hint of sadness. “And so much like your mother it makes my heart ache. She was always thinking of others.”

  “Just as you do,” she said softly.

  Josiah flinched. “No, I am not nearly so noble.”

  “But you risked your life.”

  He gave a firm shake of his head, his expression one of self-disgust. “There are any number of ways I could have assisted those who had need of me. Certainly, your own desire to educate the poor young girls will give them opportunities far beyond a few coins. I merely chose the one that offered the opportunity to dash about like a hero from some Gothic novel.”

  Raine gave a click of her tongue. “You are far too hard on yourself, Father. You are a wonderful man who is most certainly a hero among the villagers.”

  His hand gently cupped her face. “From now on, my dear, I intend to be a hero only to you. I allowed myself to be distracted, but no more. You are the most important thing in my world.”

  PHILIPPE WAS CHILLED to the bone by the time he arrived at his London town house. He had never found winter in England particularly pleasant, certainly not when he could be enjoying the pleasant warmth of Madeira.

  His mood, however, was startlingly light considering his voyage had been rough enough to shake the nerves of the most hardened sailor, and he had arrived to an icy drizzle that had made the trip to London a misery.

  From the moment he had made his decision to return to England and fight for Raine, he had felt a peace he had never before experienced settle in his heart.

  All those endless days of roaming through his empty house, unable to concentrate on work, unable to eat or sleep, unable to even find an interest in the numerous women upon the island who made it obvious they would be more than willing to offer him comfort was at an end.

  It was as if he had simply been going through the motions, waiting for his mind to at last reach the conclusion his heart had made the moment he had encountered Miss Raine Wimbourne on that dark road.

  The mighty had, indeed, fallen, he acknowledged as he entered the back door to the kitchen. And he did not even have the sense to care.

  Leaving his heavy coat and hat beside the door, he pulled off his gloves as he moved into the kitchen and discovered his faithful groom seated at a long wooden table eating a bowl of stew.

  Perhaps sensing he was no longer alone, Swann abruptly lifted his head, nearly falling backward as he leaped to his feet.

  “Bloody hell, sir, you startled me.” Gaining his balance, he gave a tug on his jacket and discreetly wiped his hands on his pants. “Welcome home.”

  “Thank you, Swann.”

  “We were not expecting you.” Swann regarded him with a narrowed gaze. “Is there trouble?”

  Philippe smiled wryly as he rubbed the aching muscles of his neck. Gads, it had been a long journey.

  “You could certainly say that.”

  The servant instantly squared his shoulders and jutted his chin in an aggressive gesture. Swann enjoyed a good fight as well as the next man.

  “You know I am prepared to stand at your side.”

  “A generous offer, but I fear that I must muddle through this mess on my own.” He tilted his head to the side, noting the thick silence that cloaked the house. “Is my brother at home?”

  Swann’s battered countenance hardened with distaste. He rarely bothered to hide his lack of respect for Jean-Pierre.

  “No. His valet said something of the fool trying his luck at the local halls before visiting his fancy whore.”

&
nbsp; “I am relieved to discover that his brief imprisonment did not impair his spirits.”

  “Bah.” Swann turned his head to spit on the ground. “The boy does not have the wits to be grateful you saved his worthless neck. He was back to his whoring and gambling the moment he walked out of the prison.”

  Philippe shrugged. He had done what he could for his brother, but from this day forward Jean-Pierre would have to solve his troubles himself. Philippe intended to concentrate on his own future.

  “I possessed little hope that Jean-Pierre would actually change his ways. He has far too much fondness for his life as a hardened rake.”

  “Fool.”

  “I suppose we are all fools in our own ways,” Philippe said, considering his own hectic flight to England. Then, with a shrug he turned his attention to more important matters. “Has Carlos remained?”

  “Aye. He is in your library.”

  “We shall speak later.”

  With a nod toward his faithful servant, Philippe made his way from the kitchen and up the stairs. Within moments he was entering the library to discover Carlos seated at a chair beside the fireplace with a nearly empty bottle of brandy at his side.

  Philippe gave an unconscious grimace as he studied his friend’s brooding expression.

  Soon enough, Carlos would have a beautiful woman in his arms that would help him to forget Raine. But in the meantime, Philippe could sympathize with his dark mood.

  “Are you attempting to empty my cellars in my absence?” he demanded as he strolled across the Persian carpet.

  With a small jerk of surprise, Carlos rose to his feet, his brows lifted in surprise.

  “Philippe. What the devil are you doing in London?”

  Heaving a sigh, Philippe lowered himself in the seat opposite his friend. His entire body ached with weariness.

  “I have hopes that I am merely passing through.”

  Carlos’s dark countenance was wary as he resumed his own seat. “Have you brought Raine with you?”

  Philippe abruptly turned his head to study the fire. So, Raine had not contacted Carlos to tell him of her return to England. A fierce relief ran through him. She might not yet be his, but she belonged to no one else.

  “She is in Knightsbridge with her father,” he at last admitted.

  Carlos gave a choked cough. “In Knightsbridge? I did not believe when I left Paris that you intended to ever let her out of your sight again.”

  “I did not.” Philippe forced himself to meet his friend’s searching gaze. “After you left I took Raine to Madeira with every intention of making her my wife.”

  “Your wife? Meu Deus.” Carlos did not bother to hide his shock. “What happened?”

  Philippe’s lips twisted in a humorless smile. “Raine made it clear that she would not wed me.”

  There was a moment of silence before Carlos slowly smiled. Damn the bastard. He clearly found it quite amusing that Raine was leading Philippe on such a merry chase.

  “Ah.”

  “You do not seem especially surprised,” Philippe said sardonically. He could not truly blame his friend for being pleased that he was being punished for his sins. It was no doubt a long-overdue punishment.

  Carlos shrugged. “Raine is not like most women.”

  “I am well aware of that.” Philippe settled deeper in the leather chair. “If she were like most women, then she would have committed murder for the opportunity to land a wealthy husband.”

  “She might have been content to wed you for the sake of your wealth if you had not had the bad taste to make her fall in love with you.”

  Philippe flinched. The thought of Raine loving him brought with it a confusion of emotions. Elation that he had managed to win her heart, and an agonizing realization that he had treated her with such a selfish lack of concern for her tender emotions that she might never forgive him.

  Dark, biting pain clenched his heart before he was firmly thrusting aside his defeatist thoughts. No. It could not be too late. He would not allow it to be too late.

  “Then obviously I must discover another means to tempt her to become my wife,” he said softly.

  “And what would that be?”

  “If she will not have my wealth, then perhaps she will have my heart.”

  “Meu Deus.” With a jerky motion, Carlos reached for the nearby brandy and drained the bottle in one large swallow.

  Philippe could not halt a small laugh at his friend’s astonishment. “My thoughts precisely.”

  Carlos’s dark features momentarily hardened. His own feelings for Raine were still raw enough for him to resent the thought of Philippe taking the woman as his bride. Then with an obvious effort, he forced a smile to his lips.

  “I suppose I have nothing left to do but offer my congratulations.”

  With an effort, Philippe pushed himself to his feet and held his hands toward the fire. As weary as his body might be, his mind was restless and anxious to complete his tasks in London. The sooner he was done, the sooner he could leave for Knightsbridge.

  “Ah, if only it were that simple.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I possess an uncomfortable feeling that Raine will not be as willing as you to believe my love for her.” He gave a shake of his head. “She has convinced herself that I consider her as no more than a possession that I intend to stow away on Madeira while I supposedly enjoy a string of mistresses around the world.”

  “Was that not what you intended to do?” Carlos demanded.

  Philippe sighed. “In truth, I gave little thought to the future beyond ensuring that Raine was irrevocably mine. I suppose I assumed that once she was my wife she would suddenly be content with whatever I was willing to offer her. It was not until she was gone that I accepted just what a bastard I had been.”

  “Yes.”

  With a short, humorless laugh, Philippe turned to meet Carlos’s accusing gaze. “You cannot make me feel worse than I already do, amigo. I kidnapped her, seduced her and treated her as a meaningless courtesan that I intended to toss aside when I tired of her. The only thing she ever asked of me was that I open my heart to her, and it was the one thing I refused to offer. If there were justice in the world then I would no doubt be forced to spend the rest of my days alone, longing for the one woman I can never have.”

  Carlos’s stark expression faintly eased at Philippe’s obvious pain. “I have noted that there is rarely justice in this world,” he said wryly.

  “Thank God, because I have no intention of allowing Raine to slip away from me,” he said, his voice rough.

  Crossing his arms over his chest, Carlos paced toward the heavy walnut desk. He perched on a corner as he regarded Philippe with a hint of curiosity.

  “You still have not explained why you are in London rather than Knightsbridge.”

  “First I must know what happened to Seurat.”

  “Did you not receive my letter?”

  Philippe gave an impatient wave of his hand. “Yes, I know that Seurat was forced to confess and that Jean-Pierre was released from prison, but where is Seurat now?”

  Carlos’s curiosity deepened as a faint smile played about his lips. “I requested that the king hold him captive until you could arrive and personally punish him for his sins against your family.”

  “He is at Windsor?”

  “No, I believe he is being held in the same prison cell that your brother so recently occupied. The king thought it a nice jest.”

  “Good.” Philippe planted his hands on his hips. With any luck at all he would be on his way to Knightsbridge before luncheon tomorrow. “In the morning I want you to go to the prison and have Seurat brought here.”

  Carlos sucked in a sharp breath. “You surely do not intend to hang the poor man in your drawing room?”

  “Nothing so dramatic,” Philippe assured him.

  “Then what do you intend to do with him?”

  “I intend to release him.”

  Carlos muttered a curse a
s he straightened to cross the room and stand directly before Philippe.

  “Have you taken leave of your senses?” he demanded. “A few weeks in a damp cell will not have eased Seurat’s crazed lust for revenge on your father. If anything he is no doubt even more anxious for blood.”

  Philippe shrugged, his once-fierce need to exact payment from the pathetic creature overwhelmed by his need to prove to Raine that he could change.

  “Perhaps, but I no longer intend to protect my father, or even my brother, from their own sins. I have far more important matters to attend to. From now on they shall have to fend for themselves.”

  “And if Seurat decides to make you the focus of his retribution?”

  A slow smile curved Philippe’s lips. “He will not.”

  “How can you be so certain?”

  “Because he will know that his life is being spared solely because Raine pleaded his cause, and that she will soon be my wife.”

  Carlos gave a slow shake of his head, regarding Philippe as if he had never truly seen him before. And, in truth, he hadn’t, Philippe acknowledged. Until Raine had tumbled into his life, he had closely guarded himself from others. He was determined she would never be hurt by another even at the cost of his own happiness.

  “This makes no sense,” Carlos growled. “You have devoted months, not to mention a near fortune, to capturing Seurat. Why would you simply release him?”

  “Because it is what Raine desires,” he said simply. “And I intend to prove that from this day forward her happiness is all that I care about.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  FOR ONCE RAINE BARELY noticed the chilled breeze as she turned the cart onto the narrow path and urged her ancient horse to a pace just above a slow crawl.

  When she had left her cottage earlier in the day, she had no notion of what to expect when she arrived at the local vicarage. Certainly the vicar had been encouraging when she had spoken with him about the possibility of holding classes for the girls. But she had no real notion of whether or not there would be any genuine interest from the villagers.

  After all, many households needed their daughters to begin earning a wage when they were still very young. The girls might very well be forbidden from using an entire afternoon on something that would bring in no coin.