His hand boldly stroked up the curve of her neck. “I am rarely decent, but my body parts are adequately covered, which I presume is what you mean?”
She hastily stepped from the temptation of his touch and turned to confront him. Her heart gave a sharp jolt as she took in the sight of the thick brocade robe that covered his still-damp skin and the tousled wetness of his raven curls.
As promised, he was covered, but there was nothing decent about him.
He looked like a Byzantine god that had stepped from the past.
A wickedly seductive Byzantine god.
No, Raine, stop this nonsense. She had come here to make it clear she would not be treated like a prisoner. Not to flutter and swoon as if she hadn’t the least measure of sense.
Ignoring the rapid beat of her heart and the strange flush that heated her skin, she tilted her chin to a determined angle.
“I wished a breath of fresh air but your…guard dog refused to allow me to leave my rooms. I presume that you were the one to give the command that I was to be a prisoner?”
He prowled forward until he was once again standing far too close. “I am not certain that Carlos would appreciate the comparison to a mere dog. I believe he considers himself a far more dangerous predator.”
She took two steps back. “Did you or did you not tell Carlos that I was to remain in my rooms?”
He took three steps forward. “Yes.”
Raine sucked in a sharp breath as his tantalizing heat and scent wrapped around her.
“Do you truly believe that after having gone through the effort of playing the role of the Knave of Knightsbridge to deceive the magistrate that I would now risk sending my father to the gallows to escape you?” she demanded.
“I am annoyingly aware of your loyalty to your father,” he said, a strange edge in his voice. “I requested that Carlos prevent you from leaving your rooms because I have no wish for you to be seen by someone who might recognize you.”
She frowned. “My circle of acquaintances does not extend beyond Knightsbridge. There is no one in Dover who could possibly recognize me.”
“Perhaps not, but there is also the matter of your safety.” His hand lifted to gently stroke a golden curl that lay against her throat. “Although Dover is not a particularly large hamlet, it is a port city and therefore has more than its usual share of pirates, profiteers and cutthroats. Not to mention the usual assortment of rakes and rogues.”
“Which you, of course, would know all about,” she muttered.
Something that might have been surprise rippled over his chiseled features. As if he was not accustomed to being labeled as a rake. Which seemed quite absurd. He was obviously a most accomplished seducer.
“I do, at least, understand men and how they react to a woman as beautiful as you.” His hand shifted to cup her cheek. “You would create a near riot if you walked about the inn without a proper escort.”
Raine’s knees went weak at his gentle touch. “I…I suppose you think to distract me with such stupid flattery?”
His eyes darkened, and without warning Raine discovered herself against the wall with his body pressed hard to hers.
“It is not flattery, meu amor.” He buried his face in the curve of her neck, his hot breath sending a shock of need racing through her blood. “And if I desired to distract you I could find a far more pleasurable means of doing so.”
She lifted her hands to his chest. She had intended to push him away, but his robe had managed to loosen, and when she fe
lt the satin heat of his skin she forgot all the numerous reasons this was such a ghastly notion.
“Philippe…”
His tongue stroked over the rapid pulse at the base of her throat, sending a violent shudder through her.
“Did you miss me last night?” he demanded.
“Miss you?”
He nuzzled his way up to her ear. “You have no notion just how great an effort it took to leave you all alone in that soft bed,” he muttered.
“Why did you?”