A Daring Passion

An hour later found him in a murky alley as he leaned against an unremarkable carriage. Within the carriage was a gentleman that Philippe had met on several occasions, but had never seen. Not that unusual since their association was one of highest delicacy.

No one beyond Carlos knew that Philippe was commissioned by His Majesty, King George IV, to keep an eye on his various enemies, and even on occasion his closest friends. It was a bargain that worked well since Philippe’s business led him throughout Europe and beyond to the Americas. He was the last sort of gentleman anyone would suspect of sneaking through houses in the dead of night, or stealing the private papers of the most influential politicians in the world.

And of course for Philippe, it meant a tidy fortune in rewards and the gratitude of a king.

No, not a bad bargain at all.

“Our friend understands your concern and will do all in his power to ensure that Jean-Pierre is kept safe and as comfortable as possible,” the man in the carriage was saying through the narrow opening of the window. “There can be no question of a pardon, however. Not while it is rumored he is a part of a conspiracy against the Crown.”

Philippe appeared casual even as he kept a careful watch on his surroundings. “All I ask is to be given an opportunity to prove his innocence.”

“I will ensure there are enough delays and complications to give you time. But it cannot last forever.”

It was as much as Philippe could hope for. “I understand and I thank you.”

“One more thing, Gautier.”

“Yes?”

“You asked for any rumors concerning a Frenchman who revealed an interest in your family.”

“You have something for me?”

“There have been rumors from the Cock and Bull down near the dock that such a Frenchie was overheard boasting that an ancient Egyptian curse was about to be unleashed upon those who dared to betray him.”

Philippe clenched his hands at his sides. Meu Deus. It had to be the man. If he could get his hands upon him…

“Is he still there now?”

“Highly doubtful, but you might wish to visit the taproom and discover if there is anything more to learn.” The window began to rise, indicating the end of the meeting before it paused. “Gautier, don’t go alone. The patrons of the Cock and Bull are not the finest of our London natives. They’ll slit your throat for a farthing.”

“I will take care,” Philippe promised, his icy determination edging his voice.

“Good. Our friend has not forgotten the services you have done for him.”

“Nor have I.”

The man gave a soft laugh before the window closed and the carriage began driving away.

RAINE SQUEEZED HER EYES closed as Philippe left the room wearing nothing more than a wicked smile. Not that it helped matters. She did not doubt that every hard line and angle of his body was irrevocably branded into her memory.

She listened as the door closed and then heard the unmistakable sound of a chair being scooted and wedged beneath the knob.

Just for a moment she considered pulling the blanket over her head and returning to sleep. Obviously she was trapped in the room and nothing could be gained from pacing the floor and cursing the man who held her captive.

In the end, however, she forced herself to l

eave the dubious warmth of the bed and dressed herself in her borrowed jacket and breeches.

If she remained in bed she did not doubt her dreams would be plagued by Philippe. The few minutes of rest that she did manage to snatch had included vivid memories of the annoying man and the skillful way he had coaxed her body to a fever pitch.

Not that such dreams were entirely bad, she had to concede. She did not regret the night of passion nearly so much as she should. In truth, she found it difficult to dredge up any regret. Her introduction to passion had been…glorious.

His touch had been so tender, so utterly devoted to giving her the greatest pleasure. She doubted that many other women could boast finding such delight when losing their virginity.

But that did not mean she intended to give in to Philippe’s casual assumption that she become his mistress.

Good Lord, she would never place herself at the whim of any man. Let alone a man with Philippe’s arrogance. No matter how much she might ache for his touch, he would be utterly impossible to live with.