“So you are capable of reading the future?”
She lowered her head as the tears once again threatened. “Perhaps not, but I am capable of being a realist when I need to be.”
“Raine…”
“Let me finish, Philippe,” she whispered softly.
There was a moment of silence before he released an explosive sigh. “If you insist.”
“Eventually you will tire of me, it is inevitable. And then you will still have your busy life to keep you occupied and no doubt a series of mistresses, while I will be left here alone.”
“Hardly alone,” he growled. “If you would bother to take the time to become acquainted with the estate you will realize that there are a great number of servants and villagers who have need of your generous heart. You could alter their lives in any number of ways.” There was a short pause before his hand reached out to lightly touch her curls. “And, of course, you will have our children to keep you occupied. They most certainly will have need of their mother.”
Pain seared through her at his casual words. Gad, did he have no shame? Did he believe that he could dangle the temptation of children before her and make her forget he had not denied the fact he would abandon her while he enjoyed his life and mistresses far away?
She jerked from his touch, her eyes wide with distress. “Please…do not.”
Philippe allowed his hand to fall, his face tight as he easily read her battered emotions.
“Damn you, Raine, what do you want of me?”
“I have told you what I want of you,” she replied, too overwrought to notice the strange hint of torment in his eyes. “I want you to send me home.”
Dashing past his frozen form, Raine did not look back as she headed for her room and slammed the door.
She might be Philippe’s prisoner, but she would be damned if she would allow him to see her cry.
RAINE WAS NOT CERTAIN what she had expected after her emotional outburst in the garden, but it was not to be abandoned for the next week.
As day after day passed without a glimpse of the irritating man, Raine began to wonder if he had actually left the island. It was either that or he had barricaded himself in his rooms, she decided as she ate her meals alone in the vast dining room and wandered the corridors of the villa late at night.
She told herself that she was relieved that he had gone away to sulk. At least he was not bullying her into a marriage that clearly would be a disaster for both of them.
Ridiculously, however, she found her spirits slowly sinking. Not even in the cottage in Montmartre had she felt quite so lonely, so isolated. The servants were all perfectly kind, but it was obvious that they considered her the mistress of the house and any effort to treat them as friends rather than mere staff was met with an awkward unease.
With nothing to do but brood, Raine found herself spending more and more time in the gardens, seeking a peace to soothe her troubled heart.
On this morning the beauty surrounding her failed to offer the distraction she sought. It did not seem to matter how hard she tried, she could not pull her thoughts from Philippe Gautier. Where was he? Was he truly attempting to avoid her?
Or could it be that he already had a lover here that was keeping him fully occupied?
The last thought was enough to make her heart clench with agony and sent her charging back to the house with a hurried step. She would not dwell on such a terrible notion, she told herself sternly. It would do no good to torment herself with the thought of Philippe in the arms of another woman.
Moving through the seemingly empty villa, Raine made her way to her room and entered with a flurry of muslin skirts. She had barely crossed the threshold, however, when she came to a halt at the sight of the young maid who had been attending to her since her arrival, bustling about the room with a harassed expression on her pretty face.
“Good morning, Maria,” she said, her brows lowered in confusion.
Scooping a handful of gowns from the armoire, Maria moved to place them on the bed and proceeded to fold them with swift hands.
“Good morning to you, Miss Wimbourne,” she said in a distracted tone. “I have brought you your breakfast.”
Raine glanced toward the tray on the bedside table. As always there was a tempting array of fresh fruit and spiced pork that was a favorite among the people of the island. At the moment, however, she had no interest in food.
“Thank you, it looks delicious.” She turned her attention back to the maid. “May I ask what you are doing?”
Maria glanced up in puzzlement. “Doing?”
“With my clothes?”