A Daring Passion

“I never noticed you having any particular difficulty with women,” Carlos mocked. “At least not until our carriage was halted by the Knave of Knightsbridge.”

Philippe’s breath condensed in the cold air as he blew out a heavy sigh. “Had I any sense I would have turned the wench over to the magistrate that night and been done with her.”

“There is nothing forcing you to keep her. If she is bothersome to you, then simply release her.”

Philippe frowned in warning. “Turn your attentions to another woman, Carlos. You shall never have Raine.”

The younger man shrugged, but thankfully kept his mouth shut as they continued through the silent streets.

Their pace was by necessity slower than Philippe desired, but not even his impatience would allow him to risk breaking the leg of his mount on the ice. At least the traffic was light until they hit the streets of Paris. And even then the cold night had driven most of the citizens to the warmth of the nearby coffeehouses.

They arrived in the rue Richelieu and dismounted before the gambling club. Walking to the door, Philippe was brought to a halt as Carlos put a hand on his shoulder.

“You go and meet Belfleur,” his friend commanded. “I wish to keep watch out here.”

Philippe studied the dark countenance, sensing the tension. “You do not trust Belfleur?”

Carlos’s lips twisted. “I trust no one, but on this night it is the streets that have me concerned. There is a smell of violence in the air.”

Philippe had to agree. Although the wealthier citizens had crowded into the shops and gambling houses, there were still clusters of drunken revelers who roamed the streets in search of entertainment. Should they be foolish enough to clash with the King’s Guard, the powder keg could blow up in all their faces.

“A sound notion.” He paused, his expression somber. “If there should be trouble I want you to return to the cottage and ensure that Raine is taken to safety. Is that understood?”

“Meu Deus, when have I ever left your side in a fight?”

Their gazes locked and held before Philippe was giving a wry shake of his head. The bond that had been forged over years surged to the surface and once again they were brothers.

“I am asking as your friend, Carlos,” he said softly. “I brought Raine to this godforsaken city, and if something were to happen to her I…I could not bear it. I would trust no other with her. Will you swear?”

The dark features tightened before Carlos sucked in a deep breath and gave a slow nod. “Sim. I give you my word.”

Satisfied, Philippe turned and entered the antechamber of the gambling house. A dignified servant hurried forward to take his coat and gloves, his covert gaze lingering upon Philippe’s distinctive ebony curls as he offered a bow.

“Monsieur Gautier?”

“Oui.”

“If you will follow me?”

The servant led him into the main parlor, which was discreetly hushed despite the number of patrons who gazed avidly at the long table with its green baize. At each end of the table a manager kept a close guard on the various fortunes being tossed into the hands of fate.

His passing was barely noted as the gamblers breathlessly awaited the smooth spin of the roulette wheel, which was why such an establishment was always such a convenient location for secret meetings. He could be in plain sight and yet utterly inconspicuous. Far simpler than sneaking about.

They turned into a hall that led past smaller chambers that were similarly filled. At last the servant halted before the last door, and after a discreet knock pushed it open and waved Philippe within.

Stepping over the threshold, Philippe heard the door close behind him and he glanced around the small but elegantly furnished office. A sturdy desk with a chair was set near the row of bookshelves beneath the bay window. Across the room was a brick fireplace with twin leather chairs on either side. The familiar pudgy form was seated in one of the chairs and Philippe moved forward to join him.

“Belfleur.”

“Gautier.” The man waved a hand toward the matching chair without bothering to rise. “Have a seat.”

“You have use of a private office?” Philippe demanded as he settled into the soft leather. “You never fail to amaze me, old friend.”

Belfleur shrugged, but a smug smile played about his lips. “People owe me favors and from time to time I call them in. I thought it best that we not be seen together. No one will know of this meeting.”

“You have information?”

“I believe you will find it of interest.” Belfleur paused as he glanced toward a silver tray that had been set on a nearby table. “Wine?”