A Daring Passion

Carlos gave a lift of his brows. “Actually, Philippe, I doubt he suspected any such thing.”

“Seurat might be unhinged, amigo, but he has proved he is not a fool.”

“Yes, but as far as Seurat was concerned, Raine was your current mistress, nothing more.” Carlos slowly rose to his feet and crossed to stand directly in front of Philippe. “What would you have done if he had taken any of your other lovers?”

Philippe blinked at the unexpected question. “I would not have left them at the mercy of a madman.”

“You would, of course, have attempted to rescue them, but you would not have bartered your soul for their release.”

A wry smile touched his lips. He could hardly argue the truth of his friend’s words. “Perhaps not.”

“I still am uncertain what is bothering you.”

“I am not entirely certain myself.” Philippe gave a restless shake of his head. He had no explanation for the irritating sensation that he was looking at a puzzle with a vital piece missing. “I only know that Seurat is obsessed with his need to hurt my family. It does not make sense that he would have the means to harm me within his grasp and simply allow her to escape with no more than a few scrapes.”

Carlos pondered for a long moment, his dark features lined with weariness. Like Philippe, the younger man had refused to rest until Raine was returned. A knowledge that both pleased and troubled Philippe.

“There seems to be only two possibilities,” Carlos at last muttered. “Either Seurat panicked and fled without completing his revenge, or he has conjured another means of punishing you.”

“I will not allow him to have another opportunity. He must be found.”

Carlos gave a slow nod, his dark eyes hard with determination and he moved toward the door. “I can assure you there will be no stone left unturned.”

IT WAS TWO DAYS AFTER her return to the cottage before Raine at last had the opportunity to request a private meeting with Carlos.

Philippe had proved to be remarkably persistent in keeping her under his constant surveillance. Not a difficult task since they had rarely left his chambers, she wryly acknowledged. Philippe was always a demanding lover, but since her return he had been insatiable. If she were a fanciful woman she would have thought his clinging arms and tender kisses were a sign that he had realized during her absence that he held an affection for her. That just perhaps she meant more to him than a warm body in his bed.

As it was, she was wise enough to realize that his fierce, relentless passion was no more than some primitive male need to mark his possession.

Not that the knowledge had diminished her pleasure in his lovemaking, she was forced to concede. When Philippe was trembling from the force of his desire and whispering soft words in her ear, she felt as if she were the most cherished, most treasured woman ever to have been born. In those moments she belonged utterly and completely to him.

Dangerous sensations that warned her to complete her plans for dealing with Seurat, and to complete them without delay.

Once Philippe could be assured that Jean-Pierre was no longer in danger, he would be anxious to return to his estates in Madeira and Raine would be sent back to England.

This afternoon, at last, Philippe had announced his intention to return to Paris and seek out further acquaintances to assist

in the search for Seurat. She had watched from the window as he had ridden down the cobblestone streets toward the city before sending one of the maids in search of Carlos. She was quite certain Philippe would not leave her at the cottage without his trusted companion to keep an eye upon her.

Her faith was not misplaced, and she was just finishing her luncheon when Carlos strolled into the drawing room. As always he was attired in rough woolen clothing that molded to his large body, and he brought with him a warm, spicy scent that uniquely suited his exotic looks.

He also brought with him a fierce, smoldering power that swept through the room like a force of nature.

It was that power she was in need of on this day.

Carlos halted in the center of the room and regarded her with a hooded gaze. “You do know that if you leave one morsel upon that tray poor Madame LaSalle will spend the entire afternoon fretting on what special treat she can create to tempt your fickle appetite?”

Raine rose to her feet with a small grimace. “An entire regiment could not consume the amount of food that Madame LaSalle sends to me.”

“It is her method of revealing how much you have come to mean to her.” A smile curved his lips. “Quite a remarkable feat considering she is a dragon who terrifies the entire village from the poor coalman to the local priest. Perhaps you have some relationship to St. George?”

“Nonsense.” She gave a click of her tongue. “Beneath her gruff manners Madame LaSalle is a very kind woman.”

“If you say so.” His dark gaze swept over her with an unnerving intensity. “How are you faring?”

Raine stifled a sigh. It was a question that was put to her at least a dozen times a day, and while she appreciated the concern she felt like a fraud. Her brief stay with Seurat had not been nearly the terrifying ordeal that others insisted on believing.

“I am truly fine. Seurat is not entirely sane, but he treated me well enough.” She smiled wryly. “I wish that everyone would not treat me as if I suffered some Shakespearean tragedy.”