A Daring Passion

Oh, no. She had imagined herself dressed in the finest of silks as she attended the elegant Season. There would be nights at the theater, opulent balls and exclusive soirees. She would acquire a large collection of friends who would invite her to picnics and luncheons where they could giggle and gossip over tea.

And, of course, there would be gentlemen. Handsome young blades that would be bewitched and bedazzled by her charm. Their dark hair would shimmer in the candlelight and their green eyes would heat with a barely restrained desire and…

Her delightful daydream was abruptly shattered as she realized the face that had risen to her mind.

Damn the irritating man, he haunted her even when he was not in the room.

As if to add to her torment, there was a sudden scrape in the hall and then the door was thrust open to reveal the man who had become her personal nemesis.

She stepped instinctively backward as his large form seemed to consume the room as it had consumed the carriage. He had shed his greatcoat to reveal a tailored charcoal-gray jacket and black breeches that molded to his muscular body with an indecent perfection.

Raine’s heart fluttered and she desperately turned her attention to the heavy tray he balanced in his hands and the thick blanket he had tossed over his arm.

A delicious aroma swirled through the air, making Raine’s stomach rumble in response, and she narrowed her eyes. She was wise enough to be wary of Greeks bearing gifts.

Especially Greeks who looked like gods.

“I thought you might be hungry,” he said as he brushed past her and placed the tray on the floor before spreading the blanket on the bed and sitting on the edge. “I had to make do with what I could pilfer from the kitchen, but there is some smoked ham and cheese, as well as freshly baked bread.”

Raine stiffened as she realized that he intended to stay. “You expect us to share dinner?” she demanded.

“Why not?”

Her chin tilted. “In case you have forgotten, I am your prisoner, not your guest.”

“I have forgotten nothing.” His gaze flicked over her tense form. “But at the moment I am tired and hungry and I have no intention of attacking you. Not unless you ask nicely.”

“Must you say such offensive things to me?”

“I do not suppose I must, but it is so terribly enjoyable.” His lips abruptly twisted and he lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck as if he truly was weary. “Come, Raine, sit down and eat before you swoon.”

It was the realization that he was right that led her cautiously to the bed. She had eaten nothing since early that morning, and she would be a fool to allow herself to be weakened by hunger. The Lord knew that she needed every scrap of strength she could muster.

With grudging reluctance she perched on the edge of the mattress and watched as Philippe filled a plate with the bounty. For the first time Raine noticed the faint dark whiskers that were beginning to shadow his jaw and the hint of bruising beneath his glorious eyes.

Strangely the signs of fatigue did nothing to mar his astonishing beauty. Indeed, they helped to soften the austere perfection, making him appear far more approachable.

A dangerous illusion, she sternly warned herself. This man was a lethal predator that would go to any lengths to achieve his goals.

Taking the plate he offered, Raine began consuming the delicious food. It was only when she had nearly cleared her plate that she sensed Philippe’s gaze trained on her.

She lifted her head to discover him gazing at her with an odd smile.

“What?” she demanded defensively.

He reached to take her plate and set it along with his own on the tray.

“I was admiring your appetite. I detest those women who are forever pecking at their food, as if a gentleman would be offended that she might actually eat.” The quality of his smile altered, becoming warmer and infinitely more dangerous. “It is enticing to see a woman who enjoys her food.”

“Which I suppose means that I am no lady?” she said sharply.

His green eyes watched her w

ith an unnerving intensity. As if he was seeing far more than her defensive frown. As if he was looking straight into her vulnerable heart.

“I meant my words as a compliment. Are you always so prickly?” he murmured.

His voice was low and intimate, sliding down her spine like warm honey. She shivered in response, desperately attempting to ignore the sheer intimacy of the dark room.