A Daring Passion

“They are good girls who work hard to help their families survive.”

“Ah.” He finished his bandaging and turned his unnervingly perceptive gaze in her direction. “Is that why you were in the kitchen this morning helping them learn to read?”

Raine felt a blush staining her cheeks. “What do you care if I happen to enjoy the company of servants?”

Carlos tilted his head to one side, the firelight slanting over his dark skin and rich black hair. There was no doubt he possessed the sort of smoldering good looks that would make any woman a bit weak in the knees.

At the moment, however, Raine seemed to have her hands quite filled with handsome, arrogant, impossible men.

“I am just curious as to why you would have made an effort to befriend such women,” he said. “Most ladies in your position consider servants beneath their notice.”

“My position?” Raine gave a short, humorless laugh. “I am the daughter of a common sailor and currently living with a man who is not my husband.”

He gave a lift of his dark brows, his expression thoughtful. “Your connection to Philippe could give you a great deal of power and position, anjo, if you would choose to grasp it.”

“And what, pray tell, would I do with such nonsense in Knightsbridge?”

“You intend to remain forever in the tiny village?”

Raine abruptly turned from his relentless regard. She did not want him to see the discomfort that must be sketched across her face.

The truth was that she was stubbornly refusing to contemplate the future. However anxious she was to see her father and reassure him that she was not harmed, she had no notion what would happen when she returned to the small village. Would there be a scandal surrounding her sudden absence? Would she be shunned and treated as a harlot?

And more important, could she possibly bear to return to her dull, uneventful life?

“It is my home,” she at last said with a small sigh.

“I do not doubt that Philippe will be very generous when you part,” Carlos said softly. “You could live anywhere you choose.”

Raine clenched her fists as she whirled back to glare at the odious man. Was he making a deliberate attempt to insult her?

“You think that I would take money from him?”

He studied her for a long moment. “Why should you not? He can easily afford to share.”

“How dare you—”

Her angry words were broken off as Philippe stirred on the bed, his lashes lifting to reveal dazed green eyes.

“Carlos?” he called out.

Swiftly, Carlos was reaching to grasp Philippe’s arm. There was no mistaking his concern.

“I am here, amigo.”

“Seurat?”

“He managed to take a shot at you before disappearing into the shadows.”

Philippe grimaced in frustration. “Hell and damnation.”

“He will not get far,” Carlos promised. “I will have the neighborhood watched night and day until we manage to capture him.”

Philippe gave a pained nod, his lashes fluttering downward before he was visibly struggling against the clinging darkness.

“Raine…” he croaked.

Raine resisted the urge to toss herself forward. She did not want to feel this aching need to touch his damp countenance and offer him comfort. Not when it revealed the susceptibility of her heart.