A Daring Passion. Rosemary Rogers
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hand.
He allowed his gaze to sweep over her sleep-flushed features, his fingers running over her bare skin with a blatant brand of possession.
“You were not so reluctant last eve to put yourself in my care. In fact, you did so on several occasions with quite delicious results.”
A delightful blush stained her cheeks. “Must you be so crude?”
“There is nothing crude in speaking of your passionate nature, menina pequena. You are a woman who needs the attentions of a man. A man who will not allow you to run roughshod over him.” He smiled into her dark eyes. “A man that can surround you in the luxury your beauty deserves.”
“A man like you, I suppose?” she said tartly.
He chuckled softly. “For now.”
“You know nothing of me or my needs.”
“On the contrary, I know you intimately. And I intend to know you more intimately still.” He allowed himself one last lingering kiss before pulling the blanket off his naked body and tucking it firmly around Raine. “But alas not now. I must be on my way.”
She huddled beneath the blanket, her eyes flashing fire. “I will never be your mistress.”
He rolled off the bed and smiled mockingly down at her. “My dear Miss Wimbourne, you already are.”
With utter indifference to his lack of clothing he walked across the room and slipped through the door. He began to move down the hall before he paused and returned to shift a chair so that it was blocking the door. Only then did he return to his proper chambers and swiftly prepare himself for the day.
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 leave 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.
At least for a woman of her temperament.
Besides, she had not lied when she said she was desperate to return to her father. By now Josiah would be frantic with worry. Perhaps frantic enough to do something entirely foolish.
Squaring her shoulders, she turned to push the narrow bed against the far wall. Once it was in place she stepped onto the mattress until she could see out of the narrow window.
Below her there was nothing more than the kitchen garden and a low wall that marked the alley. Nothing that offered any hope.
Not until she glimpsed a young man strolling down the alley attired in rough clothing. No doubt one of the endless flood of poor lads who were hired to clean cisterns or deliver coal or haul away rubbish.
Fumbling with the lock, Raine managed to push open the window far enough to stick her head through.
“You. You there,” she called loud enough to capture the man’s attention. “Stop.”
Grudgingly slowing his pace, the man turned his head toward the house. “What yer want?” He stumbled to a halt as he caught sight of Raine leaning from the window. “Blimey.”
Raine was not at all above using her effect on the opposite sex for her own purpose. Why not? It was not as if she had an overabundance of options at the moment.
“Please come closer. I need your help.”
“Me?” The lean face was coated in dust, but there was no mistaking the sudden wariness. “Oh, ay. This is some sort of swindle. You lure me close and then conk me over the noggin. Well, I ain’t no pigeon.”
“No,