Читать книгу A Daring Passion - Rosemary Rogers - Страница 13

CHAPTER SIX

PHILIPPE STRUGGLED TO recall how to breathe as he rolled to the side and held Raine in his arms. He was exhausted, his body still shuddering from the intensity of his climax.

Meu Deus, he was one and thirty and fully experienced in the most exotic forms of seduction. But nothing had prepared him for the stunning pleasure, the searing heat and wild abandon that could be found in the awkward caresses of an untried angel.

A distant part of his mind was whispering that he had just taken this woman’s innocence. That he debauched and despoiled a virgin. A sin that had had yet to be laid at his doorstep.

That part of his mind, however, was lost beneath the tide of sated bliss that flooded through him.

At last managing to recapture his breath, he gazed down at Raine’s flushed countenance as his fingers absently stroked through the halo of gleaming amber curls. The sweet scent of her skin filled his senses and he was quite certain that he would never again smell lilacs without thinking of this precise moment.

“Are you well?” he queried.

A blush of color flowed beneath her skin before she buried her face into his shoulder. “Yes, yes, of course I am.”

“Raine.” He caught her chin in his fingers and turned her face upward. “Raine, look at me.”

There was a pause before the thick fringe of lashes at last lifted to reveal her eyes.

“What?”

“Did I hurt you?”

“No…” She bit off her instinctive denial as his eyes narrowed. “Perhaps a bit.”

Philippe felt an uncharacteristic twinge of remorse as he brushed his lips over her forehead. “I am sorry for that. If I had known the truth of your innocence, I would have taken greater care. There was no need for any pain.”

A tiny shiver raced through her body. “If I had been thinking clearly enough to tell you that I was a virgin then I would not have… We would not…”

“If you think that I intend to apologize for what just happened then you are wide of the mark, querida. I do not even care to know the reason you chose to give your innocence to me.” He tightened his arms, savoring the feel of her soft body pressed against him. “For this one night I intend to enjoy what is offered without counting the cost.”

His honesty seemed to disarm her as a portion of her blush eased and she gave a lift of her brows.

“Do you usually count the cost?”

“Always.”

“Why?”

His lips twisted. It was a question he never allowed himself to ask. Not since he had been fifteen and taken control of his father’s crumbling estate. Louis Gautier might be considered by all to be a most charming and gracious gentleman, but he had never possessed the least interest in his land or those servants and tenants who depended upon him. He found digging about in obscure places far more fascinating.

And of course, Jean-Pierre could never be bothered with something so trivial as rotating fields, productive wine vineyards or the cost of transporting goods.

“Because, my sweet Raine, I have a family and enormous staff who depend upon me to do so.” His fingers traced an aimless pattern on her lower back. “I may not be attempting to save the world by robbing unsuspecting travelers, but I do have my responsibilities.”

Her lips tightened at his deliberate jab, but she was not distracted. “Like your brother.”

“Jean-Pierre. Yes, damn his soul. Not only have I traveled for a fortnight to reach this dismal country, but now it appears I shall be forced to journey to France.”

She blinked at the edge in his voice. “You make it sound as if it is something terrible. There are a great number of people who would be in raptures at the thought of spending their days in such a lovely place.” Her lips twisted. “Especially if they possessed the funds to stay at the most elegant châteaus and palaces in the world.”

Philippe stiffened as she unwittingly touched the wound that festered deep inside him.

“I…dislike France.”

Her dark gaze searched his countenance; no doubt she sensed the coldness that was beginning to chase away the delicious heat that had so briefly held him in its grip.

“But, you said you were born there.”

“A perfect reason to hold it in abhorrence, would you not agree?”

A grudging smile twitched at her lips. “Perhaps to a certain extent, but not even your birth there can make me think of France as anything but a wondrous place.”

“Then perhaps I shall take you with me when I go,” Philippe said before he even knew the words were going to come out of his mouth. He did not know where they came from, or what had even prompted the strange compulsion, but once he recovered from his momentary shock he realized that it felt…right.

If he were forced to travel through detestable France in search of an unknown enemy from his past, he surely deserved to have some compensation?

Raine widened her eyes in disbelief at his words. “What did you say?”

He deliberately stroked his fingers down the slender curve of her hip. “I will no doubt be occupied with my tasks much of the time, but there will be moments I could slip away to be with you.”

“And you think I would be sitting around simply awaiting you to find a moment for me?”

“It is surely better than continuing your rather dangerous occupation as a highwayman,” he replied as his roaming hand reached the soft curve of her backside.

“I am not…” She snapped her lips together and gave a shake of her head. “No.”

“That is not a word often used in my presence, querida.”

Her dark eyes flashed with anger. “I will not become your…mistress. And I certainly will not travel to France.”

Philippe was genuinely startled. He had never considered himself particularly vain, but after years of having women plotting and scheming to attract his attention he was jaded enough to expect most females to be delighted at the thought of being in his company.

Especially a young woman who was no more than the daughter of a highwayman, no matter what her education.

“And what is it you object to, Raine? Becoming my mistress or traveling to France?”

“Both.”

An unexpected flare of anger raced through him. This woman had given him her innocence. He had felt her shudder her climax in his arms. And even now he could feel her body stir beneath his light touch. He had given her the first taste of passion she had ever experienced.

Not to mention the fact he could buy her anything her maidenly heart might desire.

She should be in raptures.

Instead a mulish expression was settled on her features.

“You said that you thought France so wondrous.”

“It is, but I must return to my father. He will be worried sick and there is no telling what he may do if I do not appear soon.”

Philippe gave a lift of his brows. “You believe you can return home as if nothing has happened?”

“Why should I not? It is not as if…”

“What?”

“It is not as if anything has truly changed.”

The anger within him deepened. How dare she pretend that what had occurred between them had been a meaningless mating that would be easily forgotten. There had been enough heat between them to set London on fire.

Just for a moment Philippe wondered why he cared whether or not she had been enraptured by his lovemaking. If the stupid chit preferred to return and live among the rustics as her beauty faded to nothing, then so be it. Certainly she was a distraction he did not need.

But the thought of allowing her to slip from his grasp was unthinkable. Not so long as she could drive him to madness with one glance from those magnificent eyes.

“If you believe that you are a fool,” he said, his voice dangerously soft.

Her expression became wary. So, not so stupid, he acknowledged, as he tugged one slender leg over his hip to discover the softness of her inner thigh.

Raine shivered. “I suppose your conceit makes you believe that any woman who has shared your bed must be irrevocably altered?”

Bending downward, he nuzzled her neck. “Something like that.”

“Well, I can assure you that I…” Her words trailed to a low groan as he gently slid into her damp heat. “Philippe, what are you doing?”

Philippe slowly began to thrust, his body turning to molten fire.

“Irrevocably altering you,” he whispered.

PHILIPPE WAS STILL AWAKE when the sun crested the horizon.

Although he was exhausted, there was an odd sort of peace in holding Raine in his arms as he had watched her sleep. Perhaps because she was one of the few people in the world who was not demanding something from him, he ruefully acknowledged.

Nothing but her freedom, an unwelcome voice whispered in the back of his mind.

It was a voice that was easily dismissed.

He did not doubt for a moment that once he had Raine in France and surrounded by luxury, she would soon forget any desire to return home.

Bending his head, Philippe brushed his lips over hers until her lashes lifted to reveal a sleepy pair of eyes.

“Good morning, querida.”

She frowned in confusion. “What is the time?”

He smiled. “Far too early to be awake, but I have several appointments that I must keep. I will try to return by luncheon so that I can bring you a tray. Do you have anything you particularly wish?”

Her eyes widened. “You intend to leave me locked in this room all morning?”

He gently tucked an unruly curl behind her ear. “I cannot take you with me and I do not yet trust that you will not run amok in London the moment my back is turned. Besides, you had a late night. It will do you good to rest.”

“I do not want to rest.” Her hands lifted to press against his chest. “I want to return home.”

A chill inched down his spine at her words. “Your home is now with me, Raine. It will behoove you to remember that.”

“My father…”

He swooped down to halt her words with a fierce kiss. She would learn that her place was with him. Pulling back, he regarded her with a narrowed gaze.

“Your father was a careless, some might claim a worthless, protector for you. I shall take a great deal more care of you.”

That stubborn expression settled on her pale features. “I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, and the last thing I desire is a…a protector. Especially if it is you.”

The anger that only she could manage to stir flared through him before Philippe was sternly dampening the emotion. She was like an untamed filly that would only respond to a firm, steady hand.

His hand.

He allowed his gaze to sweep over her sleep-flushed features, his fingers running over her bare skin with a blatant brand of possession.

“You were not so reluctant last eve to put yourself in my care. In fact, you did so on several occasions with quite delicious results.”

A delightful blush stained her cheeks. “Must you be so crude?”

“There is nothing crude in speaking of your passionate nature, menina pequena. You are a woman who needs the attentions of a man. A man who will not allow you to run roughshod over him.” He smiled into her dark eyes. “A man that can surround you in the luxury your beauty deserves.”

“A man like you, I suppose?” she said tartly.

He chuckled softly. “For now.”

“You know nothing of me or my needs.”

“On the contrary, I know you intimately. And I intend to know you more intimately still.” He allowed himself one last lingering kiss before pulling the blanket off his naked body and tucking it firmly around Raine. “But alas not now. I must be on my way.”

She huddled beneath the blanket, her eyes flashing fire. “I will never be your mistress.”

He rolled off the bed and smiled mockingly down at her. “My dear Miss Wimbourne, you already are.”

With utter indifference to his lack of clothing he walked across the room and slipped through the door. He began to move down the hall before he paused and returned to shift a chair so that it was blocking the door. Only then did he return to his proper chambers and swiftly prepare himself for the day.

An hour later found him in a murky alley as he leaned against an unremarkable carriage. Within the carriage was a gentleman that Philippe had met on several occasions, but had never seen. Not that unusual since their association was one of highest delicacy.

No one beyond Carlos knew that Philippe was commissioned by His Majesty, King George IV, to keep an eye on his various enemies, and even on occasion his closest friends. It was a bargain that worked well since Philippe’s business led him throughout Europe and beyond to the Americas. He was the last sort of gentleman anyone would suspect of sneaking through houses in the dead of night, or stealing the private papers of the most influential politicians in the world.

And of course for Philippe, it meant a tidy fortune in rewards and the gratitude of a king.

No, not a bad bargain at all.

“Our friend understands your concern and will do all in his power to ensure that Jean-Pierre is kept safe and as comfortable as possible,” the man in the carriage was saying through the narrow opening of the window. “There can be no question of a pardon, however. Not while it is rumored he is a part of a conspiracy against the Crown.”

Philippe appeared casual even as he kept a careful watch on his surroundings. “All I ask is to be given an opportunity to prove his innocence.”

“I will ensure there are enough delays and complications to give you time. But it cannot last forever.”

It was as much as Philippe could hope for. “I understand and I thank you.”

“One more thing, Gautier.”

“Yes?”

“You asked for any rumors concerning a Frenchman who revealed an interest in your family.”

“You have something for me?”

“There have been rumors from the Cock and Bull down near the dock that such a Frenchie was overheard boasting that an ancient Egyptian curse was about to be unleashed upon those who dared to betray him.”

Philippe clenched his hands at his sides. Meu Deus. It had to be the man. If he could get his hands upon him…

“Is he still there now?”

“Highly doubtful, but you might wish to visit the taproom and discover if there is anything more to learn.” The window began to rise, indicating the end of the meeting before it paused. “Gautier, don’t go alone. The patrons of the Cock and Bull are not the finest of our London natives. They’ll slit your throat for a farthing.”

“I will take care,” Philippe promised, his icy determination edging his voice.

“Good. Our friend has not forgotten the services you have done for him.”

“Nor have I.”

The man gave a soft laugh before the window closed and the carriage began driving away.

RAINE SQUEEZED HER EYES closed as Philippe left the room wearing nothing more than a wicked smile. Not that it helped matters. She did not doubt that every hard line and angle of his body was irrevocably branded into her memory.

She listened as the door closed and then heard the unmistakable sound of a chair being scooted and wedged beneath the knob.

Just for a moment she considered pulling the blanket over her head and returning to sleep. Obviously she was trapped in the room and nothing could be gained from pacing the floor and cursing the man who held her captive.

In the end, however, she forced herself to leave the dubious warmth of the bed and dressed herself in her borrowed jacket and breeches.

If she remained in bed she did not doubt her dreams would be plagued by Philippe. The few minutes of rest that she did manage to snatch had included vivid memories of the annoying man and the skillful way he had coaxed her body to a fever pitch.

Not that such dreams were entirely bad, she had to concede. She did not regret the night of passion nearly so much as she should. In truth, she found it difficult to dredge up any regret. Her introduction to passion had been…glorious.

His touch had been so tender, so utterly devoted to giving her the greatest pleasure. She doubted that many other women could boast finding such delight when losing their virginity.

But that did not mean she intended to give in to Philippe’s casual assumption that she become his mistress.

Good Lord, she would never place herself at the whim of any man. Let alone a man with Philippe’s arrogance. No matter how much she might ache for his touch, he would be utterly impossible to live with.

At least for a woman of her temperament.

Besides, she had not lied when she said she was desperate to return to her father. By now Josiah would be frantic with worry. Perhaps frantic enough to do something entirely foolish.

Squaring her shoulders, she turned to push the narrow bed against the far wall. Once it was in place she stepped onto the mattress until she could see out of the narrow window.

Below her there was nothing more than the kitchen garden and a low wall that marked the alley. Nothing that offered any hope.

Not until she glimpsed a young man strolling down the alley attired in rough clothing. No doubt one of the endless flood of poor lads who were hired to clean cisterns or deliver coal or haul away rubbish.

Fumbling with the lock, Raine managed to push open the window far enough to stick her head through.

“You. You there,” she called loud enough to capture the man’s attention. “Stop.”

Grudgingly slowing his pace, the man turned his head toward the house. “What yer want?” He stumbled to a halt as he caught sight of Raine leaning from the window. “Blimey.”

Raine was not at all above using her effect on the opposite sex for her own purpose. Why not? It was not as if she had an overabundance of options at the moment.

“Please come closer. I need your help.”

“Me?” The lean face was coated in dust, but there was no mistaking the sudden wariness. “Oh, ay. This is some sort of swindle. You lure me close and then conk me over the noggin. Well, I ain’t no pigeon.”

“No, please. I assure you that there is no trick.”

“Then wot yer doing up there?”

Raine swallowed a hysterical urge to laugh. The poor man would never believe her if she told him the truth.

“Do you know who owns this house?” she instead hedged.

“’Course I do.” The man removed his battered hat to scratch at his head. Raine hid a grimace at the sight of his matted brown hair. “Some toff by the name of Gautier. A foreign gent who ain’t have no wife or sisters. So wot you doing there?”

Philippe Gautier.

Yes. It somehow suited him.

She swiftly searched her mind for some feasible lie. Something that would convince the man to risk entering the house to rescue her.

“I arrived with Monsieur Gautier last evening, but I fear I have made a dreadful mistake. I wish to return to my father, but…”

She deliberately allowed her words to trail away with a dismal sniff.

The man instinctively moved to the wall. “But wot?”

“I have been locked in. I need you to sneak into the house and remove the chair that is blocking the door.”

“Nay. I ain’t in no hurry to have some gent put a lead ball through me heart.”

“Monsieur Gautier is not here, nor does he intend to return for hours. You will be perfectly safe.” The man continued to regard her with suspicion. Raine gritted her teeth. “And I promise to reward you for your efforts.”

At the promise of a reward the man crawled over the wall to stand directly beneath the window. “Let me see, then.”

“See?”

“Are ye daft, give me a peek.”

“Fine.” Raine cursed beneath her breath as she turned her head to frantically search the room. Her gaze landed on Philippe’s discarded clothing still piled on the floor, and scrambling off the bed, she grabbed his superfine jacket. Hastily she searched the pockets until she pulled out a tiny antique locket that was hidden in the inner lining. It was a decidedly odd piece of jewelry for a man to be carrying, but at the moment Raine’s only concern was that it was clearly made of a fine gold. Tossing aside the jacket, she climbed back on the bed. “Here.” She held her hand out the window to reveal the necklace. “’Tis worth more than you can earn in a month.”

The mud-brown eyes narrowed as a nasty smile twisted his lips. “True enough, but I was thinking on a more intimate sort of reward, if yer know what I mean.”

Raine shuddered in revulsion. She would remain locked in the nursery for the rest of her life before she allowed the man to so much as touch her.

Thankfully she possessed enough faith in her ability to outwit most men. They were so tediously predictable in underestimating women.

“Of course.” She forced a smile to her lips. “I assure you I can be very, very generous.”

He gave a last leer before he was disappearing into the shadows of the house. Raine leaped off the bed and hastily stuffed her hair beneath the crimson hat and wrapped her cape about her.

There were a few minutes of panic as she waited for her rescuer to arrive. For all she knew Philippe was still somewhere within the town house. Or if not him, then at least his servants. And with her current streak of ill luck she would not be the least surprised to have her brief chance of escape snapped from beneath her nose.

At last, after what seemed an eternity, she heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps and then the scrape of the chair being moved.

Not waiting for her rather grimy Galahad, Raine pushed open the door and darted past his lanky body. She ignored his muttered curse and was oblivious to the fact that he was following closely in her wake. Her entire concentration was centered on making her way down the hall and the narrow stairs without being caught.

Only when she was slipping out of a back door into the garden did she breathe a faint sigh of relief.

It was a relief that was short-lived as a bony hand reached out to grasp her arm in a tight grip.

“This way.” The man tugged her toward the back wall.

Raine allowed herself to be led through the gate, but she dug in her heels when he attempted to pull her down the alley.

“No.” She wrenched her arm free. “My horse is in the stables.”

“Blimey, yer going to get us sent to the gallows,” the man muttered, but he did not try to halt her as she crossed to the stables and cautiously peered through the door.

Raine carefully scanned the shadowed interior of the stables, not daring to move until she was certain that the building was empty.

She didn’t know where the cantankerous Swann or lethal Carlos might be hidden, and at the moment she didn’t care.

“No one here, thank God,” she whispered as she entered the door and moved toward the stalls.

“Aye,” the man behind her rasped. “All alone.”

A pair of arms abruptly grasped her shoulders and pushed her face-first against one of the stalls.

“I believe I’ll have a taste of me reward.” His foul breath brushed her cheek as one of his hands impatiently ran over her jacket. “I’ve never had me a woman dressed as a man.”

Raine resisted the urge to fight his rough touch. Instead she searched the stall for a weapon as she tried to distract her attacker.

“There is no need to rush,” she said in what she hoped was seductive tones. “There is no one near.”

“Aye, I heard that fancy women like it slowlike.”

Raine spotted a shovel set in the near corner of the stall. “Oh, yes, very slow,” she urged as her arm slipped over the gate.

She grimly shut out the feel of the man’s hand as it slipped beneath her jacket. He could do what he liked as long as he remained distracted while she curled her fingers around the handle of the shovel.

His free hand shifted from her shoulder to the waistband of her breeches. Sending up a silent prayer, she tightened her grip on the shovel and, half turning in his arms, she swung the shovel over her shoulder.

It was an awkward swing and it was more luck than skill that allowed her to strike the odious man directly on the temple. He dropped to the floor with a crash and spinning about, Raine was pleased to discover he was dead to the world.

Or perhaps just dead, a tiny voice whispered in the back of her mind as she noticed the deep gash on the side of his head was seeping a worrisome amount of blood.

She bit her lip as guilt stabbed through her. Lud, she had never intended to mortally wound the man. She had only been determined to knock him senseless.

Her stomach briefly heaved before she was sternly squaring her shoulders. The man had been attempting to force himself on her. She would not regret taking whatever means necessary to halt him.

Swallowing her nausea, Raine forced herself to step over his body and moved down the line of stalls. She was too close now to hesitate, she told herself sternly.

Finding her mare at the very back of the stables, Raine reached out her hand to open the gate. It was only then that she realized she still clutched the golden locket in her hand.

She gazed down at it blindly, wondering how the devil she had managed to hang on to it during her struggle.

For a moment she considered dropping it on the floor. She needed no tangible reminders of the past hours. The Lord knew that it was going to be difficult enough to rid her dreams of her brief time in London.

Besides, the necklace had been tucked in a hidden pocket, as if it held a great deal of value to Philippe. Surely a value that was sentimental rather than monetary.

Perhaps a reminder of a lost love who had broken his heart.

With a grim smile, she closed her hand around the locket.

Soon she would be on her horse and leaving London and Philippe Gautier far behind.

The damnable man would discover not to trifle with Miss Raine Wimbourne.