A Daring Passion

She flinched at his biting tone. “You said you did not strike women.”

“Then I shall have to find some other means of pleasing myself.” He stepped into his rooms and without warning Raine found herself set roughly on her feet. She was still attempting to regain her balance when Philippe moved to the connecting door that led to her chambers and turned the key in the lock. Slipping the key into his pocket, he turned and regarded her with an aloof, unreadable expression. “Take off your clothes.”

Whatever Raine had been expecting it was not this. Pressing her hands to her heaving stomach, she backed toward the center of the room.

“What?”

He put his hands on his hips, his expression icy. “I spoke quite clearly. Take off your clothing.”

“No.” She gave a wild shake of her head. “I will not.”

“Then I will do it for you.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief, but before she could do more than take a few hasty steps backward, he had his arms around her and easily tossed her onto the large bed.

Raine fought him, of course, kicking and scratching as each piece of clothing was roughly ripped from her body. She could not accept that Philippe would force himself on her. Not that it would be force for long, a tiny voice whispered in the back of her mind. He had only to touch her to make her melt in need. But, to be coerced against her will was no better.

“Brute,” she muttered futilely struggling as he tugged off the last of her garments to leave her stark naked. “Arrogant, loathsome beast.”

Astonishingly he did not join her on the bed. Instead he stood looming over her, a satisfied smile on his lips.

“Now attempt to escape me, Miss Wimbourne,” he challenged.

Raine frowned in puzzlement, a puzzlement that only deepened as he smoothly gathered her clothing from the floor and headed for the door. Without a backward glance he stepped out of the room and closed the door firmly behind him. In the silence Raine heard the key tumble the lock.

He had effectively trapped her in the room, she realized with a vague sense of confusion. With both doors locked her only hope of escape would be the window, and no matter how desperate she might be, she was not about to risk her neck by leaping from such a height. Especially not when she was stuck without a stitch of clothing.

But why?

Did he think she might flee from him in terror? Did he truly believe her to be that cowardly?

Absently, Raine wrapped the covers over her shivering body. Despite the fire that burned with cheery persistence in the grate, she felt chilled to the bone. Only to be expected, she supposed after standing in the damp cemetery for so long. But more than that, she realized that the cold had seeped into her heart.

She had failed. Miserably.

Seurat was captured and convinced that she had betrayed him. Carlos was being commanded to England and obviously in Philippe’s bad graces.

And she…

Well, truth be told, she did not know what Philippe intended for her. All she knew was that she had made a mess of the entire situation and she had no one to blame but herself.

Brooding on the disastrous night, Raine felt her heart leap as the lock was turned and Philippe stepped through the door. Closing it behind him, he placed the tray that he held on a low table and then calmly began peeling off his elegant garments.

Raine scooted to a sitting position on the bed, the covers pulled to her chin.

“What are you doing?”

He did not falter as he dealt with the last of his clothing and then strolled across the room with complete indifference to his nudity. Raine did not want to watch, but how could she resist? The play of firelight over the sculpted lines of his body was enough to steal the wits of any woman.

Seemingly unaware of her lingering gaze, he reached to pull on a thick robe and tied it firmly about his waist as he returned to the table and plucked the napkin from the tray.

“First I intend to enjoy the dinner that you so rudely interrupted.”

Raine gritted her teeth, telling herself that she was not the least disappointed that he had was not eagerly leaping into the bed beside her.

“If your dinner was interrupted, the blame is your own,” she said, her tone peevish even to her own ears. “I certainly did not seek your presence.”

He held her gaze as he ate a portion of the ham. “No, I do not suppose you did. Tell me, meu amor, what did you hope to accomplish with your little ploy?”