A Daring Passion

He could, of course, be within the shop, warming himself beside the fire and sipping the excellent cognac that Belfleur always kept close at hand. A far more sensible choice than standing in the cold while his blood turned to ice in his veins.

More sensible but impossible, he acknowledged as a shiver racked his body.

Within the confines of the shop he found it oddly difficult to breathe. As if his lungs were too tight to capture the elusive air. And worse were the nervous glances of his companions, who eyed him with a wary fear. Clearly they thought that he might begin a mad rampage on the streets of Paris at any moment.

Not that he hadn’t felt the urge to do a bit of rampaging, he ruefully acknowledged. As the hours passed with no sign of Seurat or Raine, his entire being trembled with the need to strike out.

Instead he was forced to wait in the cold, dank alley as the various boys trotted up to make their reports.

It had been Belfleur’s notion to make each of the lads return to the shop every two hours and inform them where they had been and where they intended to go next. That would make certain that if one was captured by Seurat they would know swiftly to set out a search and, more important, precisely where to start looking.

A wise notion, but it did slow the amount of ground that could be covered.

Philippe pulled a silver flask from his coat pocket and took a deep drink of the brandy. As he returned it to his pocket there was the scrape of approaching footsteps and he hast

ily turned, expecting one of the numerous boys to appear.

Instead it was a small woman wrapped in a thin cloak who slipped from the shadows to stand directly before him. In the flickering light of his lantern it was easy to determine that she was a pretty wench with a halo of blond curls and blue eyes. He could also determine that she was astonishingly young.

At least in age, he amended silently, as she reached up to smooth a hand over his chest. There was a weary knowledge in the depths of her eyes that revealed she had already experienced far too much of the world.

“You are a fine sight on such a miserable night. Such a gentleman should not be alone,” she murmured in inviting tones. “Come with me and I’ll warm the chill from your body.”

Philippe grimaced as he stepped sharply from her clinging hand. He held no taste for common whores. Especially not those who looked young enough to be in the nursery.

“Not on this night, child.”

“I am no child.” She pouted as she pulled open the cloak to reveal a gown that was cut to fully reveal her small curves. “Shall I prove that I am a grown woman?”

Philippe was startled to discover something very close to sympathy for the girl as she shivered beneath the chilled air. Dammit all. He did not want to notice that she looked cold, and vulnerable and so horribly young.

It was entirely Raine’s fault, of course. Before the irritating woman had charged into his life he had never been bothered by the great horde of unfortunates who were forever crossing his path. Now he found himself actually considering what Raine would expect of him. As if he feared the notion of disappointing her.

Hell and damnation.

He heaved a deep, resigned sigh. “Close your cloak, child, I have no need of your wares.”

“Every man has need of my wares,” she persisted, grimly attempting to keep her teeth from chattering. “Unless you have peculiar tastes?”

Philippe gave a low laugh as the image of Raine’s beauty flared through his mind. “Not peculiar, just…particular.”

Her smile faltered as she sensed that a potential customer was slipping from her grasp.

“I can be anything you want,” she coaxed.

“No.” He gave a firm shake of his head. “I have interest in only one woman.”

“A man who is capable of being faithful?” the whore scoffed in disbelief. “She must be a most intriguing woman.”

An agonizing pain threatened to pierce the ice that protected him from sheer madness. “She is…perfect.”

The blue eyes flickered with a hint of envy. “Then why do you stand alone in the cold?”

“I am waiting to take her home,” he said simply.

“A fortunate woman.”

Philippe shrugged. “I am uncertain she would agree, at least not at the moment, but I intend to change her mind.”