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Dammit all, he should still be furious with the maddening wench. She had not only treated his generous gifts with disdain, but she had branded him nothing less than a blackguard.
A notion that he could not in full honesty deny.
Philippe was not a man who often searched his heart. He did not concern himself with what others might think of him, or bother to consider the feelings of another. He took what he wanted, and damn the consequences. If that made him a selfish beast, then so be it.
Now Raine was forcing him to ponder how his decisions were affecting her. And perhaps for the first time in his life he found himself wondering how to please another.
Searching through the cottage, Philippe at last managed to track down his elusive prey in the dark garden. For a moment he paused in the shadows as he studied the delicate woman. The pure, perfect features were drenched in silver moonlight, her thick curls shimmering like the finest amber. And even wrapped in the velvet cape, she managed to give the impression of fragility. As if the slightest breeze might steal her away.
His lungs squeezed with something close to pain before he was sternly thrusting it aside and moving to stand at Raine’s side. He breathed in deeply of her feminine scent as he took her chilled hands and gently rubbed them between his own.
“You should not be out here alone, querida,” he said quietly.
Raine became rigid beneath his touch, but she made no effort to pull away. “I can hardly come to harm in the garden.”
“Seurat knows of this cottage and has proved he is willing to approach it without fear. He could be lurking anywhere.”
“He has no reason to bother me. I have done nothing to him.”
“The man is demented,” he reminded her. “It is enough that you are—”
His words broke off as he silently cursed. The woman was his mistress. An exclusive position that ladies around the world longed to fill. Unfortunately, Raine stubbornly refused to be appropriately appreciative of the honor he bestowed upon her, and her dark eyes were already flashing with temper.
“I am what?”
“No, my sweet. I am not stupid enough to walk into that trap.” He heaved a faint sigh. “It is enough that Seurat knows that by harming you he would harm me.”
Her brows drew together at his soft words. “You cannot expect me to remain cloistered in the cottage day and night, Philippe. I will go mad.”
“It will only be for a few days, meu amor. Once I have Seurat captured he will no longer be a threat.”
She tugged her hands from his grasp, her lips thinning with annoyance. “So now I am not only to be your captive, but I am to be imprisoned, as well?”
“Hell and damnation, woman,” he muttered. “Would you prefer that I not care if Seurat puts a bullet through your heart?”
“I would prefer that you had not put me in danger in the first place,” she retorted. “After all, you did condemn my father for supposedly risking my neck, did you not? That, at least was my choice.”
“My God, you would try the patience of a saint,” Philippe growled in frustration, jamming his fingers through his hair. He was beginning to suspect that the woman had been put into this world to be a constant torment. “Will you not be satisfied until I admit that I thought of no one but myself when I kidnapped you? That I wanted you so desperately that I was willing to commit any sin, break any law to have you? Is that what you desire to hear?”
Her eyes widened in surprise at his unexpected confession. She should damn well be surprised. Philippe did not easily admit he might be in the wrong.
“Why?” she at last demanded.
Philippe frowned in confusion. “Why?”
“Why me? You could have any woman you desire.”
His lips twisted. God, he had not even thought o
f another woman since Raine had blazed into his life.
“They are not you.”
“But…”
Philippe pressed a finger to her lips. “I have no explanation, Raine. I only know that it has to be you. Just you.” He lowered his head to press a lingering kiss to her satin mouth. “Now, come inside. Dinner is waiting.”
She wrapped her arms around her waist. “I am not hungry.”
