A Daring Passion

“Do you wish the truth?” she asked instead.

“I would not have asked if I did not wish the truth.”

“Very well.” She unconsciously squared her shoulders. “I was thinking that Seurat must be a lonely and sad man.”

He was seated close enough that she could feel his large body stiffen. “He is clearly demented and a danger to others.”

“You do not believe that he might have a legitimate reason for feeling betrayed by your family?” she demanded in low tones.

“He was being employed by my father when he stumbled across the tomb. As Mirabeau pointed out it, was within my father’s right to claim it as his own.”

His tone held that arrogant edge that made Raine grit her teeth. “Within his rights?”

“Yes.”

“Which only means that your father possessed the wealth and power necessary to enforce his will,” she muttered.

His smile was derisive. “That is the way it has been, and always will be.”

Raine balled her hands in her lap. It was that or slapping the cold, aloof expression from Philippe’s handsome face. There were times when he could be so blasted superior.

“But Seurat was the one to find the tomb.”

“It was my father who financed the excava

tion. Anything discovered belonged to him.”

“So because Seurat was a mere servant he was allowed nothing?”

A dangerous glitter darkened his green eyes. “He was no doubt paid for his services. He was a fool to expect more.”

She gave a slow shake of her head. “Good God, Philippe, do you have compassion for no one?”

Without warning he reached out to jerk the bonnet from her head before his fingers were grasping her chin in a firm grip. He leaned close enough for her to feel the heat of his breath sweep over her lips.

“Certainly not for a man who has plotted revenge upon my family for years. A man who has schemed to have my brother hanging from the gallows.”

Raine was forced to swallow the lump in her throat. She did not fear Philippe, but there was no mistaking the anger that smoldered just beneath his cold composure.

“I do not condone his…madness, but that does not mean he is undeserving of some pity,” she managed to point out.

“Pity is a weakness that has never troubled me.”

Well, that she easily believed. He had wrapped himself in an impervious cloak of icy indifference toward all but a handful of people he allowed himself to care about.

“Pity is not a weakness.”

His lips twisted. “Tell me, Raine, when the magistrate eventually comes to haul your father to prison, will you feel pity for the man just attempting to do his job? Or will you shoot him in the heart?”

Her breath caught at his brutal question. She had laid herself open for the attack, but that did not stop her from flinching.

“I…do not know,” she confessed in a husky voice. “I suppose I will always attempt to protect those I love.”

“As will I,” he said grimly.

She sucked in a deep breath. She could not explain why it was important to her that Philippe be swayed from his determination to destroy Seurat. The situation had nothing to do with her. But, something deep inside her wanted to reach past his brittle exterior to the vulnerable man beneath.

Her expression softened as she reached up to lightly touch his arm. “Philippe, has it occurred to you that if you could find Seurat and somehow offer him a portion of what he feels is due to him that he might willingly end his vengeance against your family? Would that not be preferable to be always fearing he is in the shadows stalking you?”