A Daring Passion

Leaving her to struggle out of the cumbersome cape, Philippe moved to the nearby fireplace and was rewarded to discover a forgotten candle on the mantel. Once he had the wick blazing, he turned to discover Raine tossing aside the cape and standing to slay him with a murderous glare.

Before she could hurl her venomous insults, he moved forward and offered a faint bow.

“These will be your chambers, my lady,” he murmured in taunting tones. “Perhaps not the most elegant room in the house, but no doubt preferable to a cold prison cell?”

Her nose wrinkled at the thick coating of dust. “Barely.”

Against his will Philippe discovered himself laughing at her relentless courage. Meu Deus, what other woman would face him so boldly?

Stepping even closer, he surveyed her pale, perfect features. Even attired in the ridiculous jacket and buckskins with her amber hair in tangles, she was still the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

“Do you never give an inch, Raine?” he said softly.

Her chin tilted upward. “Do you?”

“Never.”

Her eyes widened at the husky edge of his voice, but before she could react he had wrapped his arms around her waist and hauled her firmly against his chest. Philippe waited until her lips parted in protest before he claimed them in a rough kiss.

He could sense her shock. Not that it could be any greater than his own, he ruefully told himself. He certainly hadn’t intended to grab and kiss her as if he were some bumbling stable lad with his first maid. It was hardly the technique of a practiced seducer.

But there was no denying that there was something about this woman that provoked and bedeviled him in a manner he was finding difficult to ignore.

He desired her. He desired her with a power that was quickly becoming an obsession. But more than that, he was fascinated by her.

She was a unique puzzle he felt compelled to solve.

Outlining her full mouth with the tip of his tongue, he slipped between her lips and tasted the decadent wetness within. His breath was squeezed from his lungs. She tasted as sweet and fresh as the lilacs she smelled of. As sweet as spring.

Just for a moment she stiffened, as if she were about to pull away, and Philippe silently cursed. She was not indifferent to his touch. He was experienced enough to know when a woman returned his desire. She might wish him in hell, but she still wanted him.

Then, with a faint sigh, she was melting into his arms.

A shudder shook through him. It was no more than a kiss, but his entire body clenched with pleasure.

Feeling her grasp at the folds of his greatcoat, Philippe traced his hands up the curve of her spine. She was so delicate. So astonishingly tiny in his hands. It was easy to forget her fragility when she was battling him as if she were as large and intimidating as a dockhand.

With gentle care he smoothed his hands back down to her hips. His lips shifted to spread light kisses over her cheek before he lightly stroked the shell of her ear with his tongue.

She shivered beneath his touch and he felt that strange searing heat race through him. A heat that flowed through his entire body, not just the familiar bits and pieces.

The urge to sweep her into his arms and carry her to the nearby bed was overwhelming.

He wanted to see her spread beneath him. To part her thighs and discover the heart of her pleasure. To thrust himself into her until they were both exhausted and sated.

It was surely what she had been created for?

His arms had already tightened when he gave a low groan.

The devil take it, this was not the time to be indulging in such games. No matter how delightful.

At this moment Carlos was awaiting him in his library, and his brother would be anxiously awaiting word that he had reached London.

He abruptly lifted his head, gazing down at her upturned face with a brooding intensity.

In the flickering candlelight her delicate beauty was enough to steal his breath. The golden curls were a shimmering river as they tumbled about her shoulders, her ivory skin was brushed with a faint flush, and her eyes smoldered with the lingering memory of his kiss.

She looked like a wanton, exotic angel.