A Daring Passion

The chit heaved a sigh as she grudgingly tugged the cloak around her thin body. “If you cannot convince her, then you need only return to this street and ask for Jeanette. I can help to ease a broken heart.”

“I shall keep that in mind.”

“Such a pity.” A small smile tugged at her lips as she ran a knowing gaze over his large body. “I should not have minded having a man such as you beneath my skirts.”

The woman moved away and began to disappear back into the shadows. Philippe growled beneath his breath as he experienced that unwelcome surge of pity once again.

Raine would expect him to do more than send the pathetic whore on her way. She would expect…bloody hell, she would expect him to rescue the wench from the cold, filthy streets.

“Jeanette,” he called out wearily.

She halted and turned with an expectant expression. “Oui?”

Philippe reached beneath his coat to withdraw a small leather bag. “Take this.”

She took the bag with a puzzled frown. “What is it?”

“A gift.”

“You’ve changed your mind?”

“No.”

The puzzlement deepened as she gave a slow shake of her head. She was not the sort of woman that received gifts without being expected to offer her body in return.

“Then why would you offer me anything?”

Philippe smiled with a trace of self-mockery. “Because I have been told by someone I admire that it is what I should do.”

With stiff fingers, Jeanette tugged at the strings that held the bag shut and peered within. Her loud gasp echoed through the alley as she slowly lifted her gaze to regard him in a stunned disbelief.

“Sacrebleu. This is a blessed fortune,” she said in an unsteady voice. “What do you want from me?”

Philippe did not blame her for her suspicion. Hell, he would be suspicious himself. Those who possessed generous hearts were as rare as the crown jewels.

“I want you to eat a warm meal and find safe shelter for the night. It is far too cold to be upon the streets.”

She gave a choked laugh that was closer to a sob. “I can live upon this for a year.”

“Perhaps it will give you an opportunity to discover a less-dangerous career.”

The blue eyes filled with tears as she reached up to touch his cheek with frozen fingers. “Are you an angel?”

“An angel?” Philippe gave a harsh bark of laughter. “Not bloody likely. Anyone who knows me will attest to the fact that I long ago sold my soul to the devil.”

“I do not believe it,” she whispered. “You have been sent by God and I will hold you in my prayers every night. Bless you, monsieur.” With a cry she reached up to place a kiss on his cheek. “Bless you.”

Philippe grasped her shoulders and gently tugged her away. He did not desire flamboyant gratitude. At least not from this woman. He had done this for Raine, and it was her approval that he sought. Rather pathetic, but what was a man to do?

“Be on your way, child.”

With a last sob the girl turned and scurried down the alley, as if she feared he might suddenly change his mind and demand back her treasure.

Philippe gave a rueful shake of his head as he wondered what his acquaintances would think of his peculiar behavior. No doubt they would presume that he had taken the last step to lunacy. And perhaps they would be right.

“Well, Gautier,” a familiar voice whispered from the doorway behind him. “Are you attempting to be canonized for sainthood or do you intend to join the lovely Jeanette later and allow her to earn that rather tidy fortune?”

Philippe did not bother to turn his head as Belfleur moved to stand beside him.