A Daring Passion

Carlos had attempted to argue with him, but Philippe had been wrapped in a frigid numbness that had refused to listen to reason. That cold, ruthless sensation was a familiar one to Philippe. It was how he had lived most of his life. Until Raine.

She was the one who had warmed him. The one who released him from his prison of ice.

Without her he could feel nothing.

Not until she was once again in his arms.

Carlos had at last brought an end to the argument by the simple process of knocking Philippe unconscious.

Forcing himself to a seated position, Philippe gingerly rubbed his aching jaw. He had never even seen the blow coming. Not until the pain was exploding through his mind.

At his movement Carlos slowly straightened from a chair beside the fireplace and crossed to hover over him. Philippe grimaced at the sight of his friend’s haggard countenance and shadowed eyes. He was not the only one suffering at Raine’s disappearance.

Oddly the thought did not make him long to have Carlos horsewhipped.

For the moment they were two men connected by the same driving force, and everything else was a distraction they could not afford.

Philippe scrubbed his hands through his hair. “What is the time?”

“Near half past seven.” There was a short pause as Carlos regarded him with a weary smile. “How are you feeling?”

Philippe smiled wryly. How did he feel? His jaw ached, his entire body was so weary the smallest movement was an effort and his eyes felt as if they had been filled with sand. But overall he felt…frozen. Frozen to his very bones.

“Fortunately for you I am not feeling quite well enough to repay you for your nasty surprise.” He deliberately touched the growing bruise on his jaw. “Give me a few minutes, however, and I am fully confident that I will be capable of returning the favor.”

Carlos shrugged. “I did it for your own good, you know. You cannot rescue Raine if you are chained in a damp cell.”

“The king has more sense than to toss his wealthy visitors into jail.”

“The king’s justice can move very slowly, especially a king who fears the mobs more than he fears the aristocracy.”

Philippe could not deny the truth of Carlos’s words. Although his wealth and power ensured he was offered the sort of privileges reserved for the most elite, the current king was barely capable of keeping the pretense he was in command of the country.

“Perhaps.”

Carlos folded his arms over his chest. “You know, you could show at least a modest amount of gratitude for my having rescued you from a very unpleasant stay in the local prison.”

“I might have more gratitude if I did not suspect that you took a decided pleasure in knocking me senseless.”

Carlos gave a bark of laughter. “I will admit that it did not break my heart, but I have no desire to repeat the performance.” He shifted his hand to rub the muscles of his neck. “At least not at the moment.”

Philippe frowned. “Have you slept at all?”

“There will be time enough for sleep later.”

“You will do Raine no good if you collapse from exhaustion.”

“I have no intention of collapsing,” Carlos said, his expression set in stubborn lines.

Philippe swallowed the words on the tip of his tongue. He did not have the energy to battle Carlos, even if it was for the man’s own good. Instead he concentrated on forcing himself to his feet.

A task that took a great deal more effort than it should have, he acknowledged as he briefly swayed and a pain shot through his head.

“Damn,” he muttered. “I think you might have broken my jaw.”

Carlos appeared remarkably unrepentant. “Be happy that I did not truly intend to hurt you. You would not have awoken for three days.”

Philippe made a rude sound as he attempted to loosen the muscles of his shoulders. “You have ensured that I have wasted enough time.” He moved to pour himself a large shot of brandy. “I am returning to Paris.”