“Shh, meu amor.” He tossed aside his robe and pressed his body to her back, burying his face in the curve of her neck. “I promise I will please you.”
“But…”
Her words came to a choked halt as his fingers slid down the gentle swell of her stomach and then through her blond curls to discover the dampness between her legs.
“You should never have run from me, menina pequena.” He gave a punishing nip on the curve of her shoulder while his finger slid inside her and began to stroke with a slow insistence. “You belong in my arms. In my bed.”
Her head fell back against his shoulder. A delicious pressure was beginning to build within her. Later she would tell him that she belonged to no man. That she was a woman who would always hold her independence dear.
But that would be later, she thought as she felt his hard shaft pressing between her legs. With gentle care he parted her and then with one slow thrust he was buried deep inside her.
Raine sighed as her eyes slid closed.
Yes, it would all have to be much later.
THEY ENDED UP IN Raine’s bed.
After he had thrust himself to a shuddering release, Philippe had been too intent on continuing his delicious seduction to bother clearing his own bed of the various piles of clothing. It had been far simpler to carry Raine into the connecting chamber and tumble her onto the bed before she could recall that she was supposed to be furious with him.
Now he held her tightly pressed to his body as he attempted to recover from the intense bout of lovemaking.
Meu Deus. He was a sophisticated man of the world, a man who could claim the most beautiful and talented of lovers. And yet, none but this woman could make him ache for her touch, drown him in heat just by being near.
A satisfied smile touched his lips as he breathed deeply of her sweet scent.
“You fit in my arms as if you were made for me,” he murmured, his hands trailing down the arch of her back. “And perhaps you were. Perhaps you were born to be my mistress.”
She leaned back to glare into his face, the dreamy expression that had softened her beautiful features swiftly hardening with annoyance.
“Do you even realize how bloody arrogant you are?” she snapped. “I might only be the daughter of a poor sailor, but I have worth beyond becoming some man’s mistress.”
Philippe gave her bare bottom a pat. “There are many women who would consider becoming my mistress a worthy goal. Certainly I have never lacked for willing females.”
Her dark eyes narrowed. “Willing perhaps, but none of them were true ladies.”
Damn, but the woman was a prickly thing.
“I assure you that being a lady has nothing to do with who your parents might be, or whether or not you are my mistress. I have known any number of so-called ladies, not to mention gentlemen, who were not fit for the title.”
She gave a deliberate lift of her brows. “Do you mean, gentlemen like those who would kidnap an innocent young lady?”
He shrugged aside her insult. “You may not possess the proper blood, but you have something most ladies will never be able to claim.”
“And what is that?”
“Loyalty. There is only one other woman I know who would risk everything for those she loved.”
A portion of her annoyance eased as she regarded him with a hint of curiosity. “Who?”
“My mother.” He brushed his fingers over the golden locket about her neck. “She was a woman who was willing to sacrifice her life to save others.”
There was a brief silence as she studied his countenance. “How did she die?”
Philippe felt his muscles stiffen. He never discussed his mother. Not with anyone. But, for some reason he wanted Raine to know of the woman who had molded his life despite the fact he could not even recall her face.
“When the Revolution hit Paris my father insisted that we travel to his estate in Portugal, and then eventually we moved to his home upon Madeira. He could not, however, persuade the rest of my mother’s family to abandon their homes. In the end most of them faced the guillotine.”
Her breath caught at his stark words. “How horrid. No wonder you dislike France.”