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“Philippe, what is it?” With a growl Philippe attempted to wrench himself from Carlos’s grim hold and Carlos gave him a sharp shake. “Tell me. What has happened?”
For a moment Philippe continued to struggle, and then without warning he grasped Carlos by the lapels of his coat and nearly lifted him off the floor.
“I will kill him,” he swore, his face dangerously pale. “I will squeeze the life from him. I will rip out his heart and shove it down his throat.”
A cold dread clenched Carlos’s heart. “Is it Seurat? Has he done something? Dammit, Philippe, talk to me.”
Half expecting the distracted Philippe to throw him across the room, Carlos was unprepared when the man abruptly released him and sank to his knees, his hands covering his face.
“He has taken her,” he said in a harsh voice.
The coldness spread through Carlos as his gaze caught sight of the crumpled note in the center of the carpet. Feeling almost numb, he moved to pluck it from the floor and smoothed it open.
The woman is payment for what is owed.
Seurat
Fury, black and unrelenting, raced through Carlos’s veins. Raine. Meu Deus. She was so tiny, so fragile. To be at the mercy of some demented monster…
“Bastardo,” he hissed, his thoughts a tangled mess as he paced the room and imagined the numerous and bloody ways he intended to murder Seurat.
He was still pacing when there was a faint noise near the door and Madame LaSalle stepped into the room with a hand pressed to her heart.
“Monsieur?” Her eyes widened with fear as she took in the shattered room and then the sight of Philippe kneeling on the floor, his head still cradled in his hands. “Blessed Mary, has there been a robbery?”
There was a tense silence before Philippe was slowly rising to his feet, his features set in pure ice. The raging emotions had been replaced by a cruel ruthlessness. The man had become a lethal predator who would hunt down and destroy his prey.
“Gather the servants in the kitchen,” Philippe ordered the fluttering woman. “All the servants. If any of them are out I want them back at once. I will be down in a few moments to question them.”
The woman responded instinctively to the command, her back straightening and the panic easing from her round countenance.
“Oui, monsieur. I will have them gathered at once.”
Madame LaSalle rushed from the room and Philippe paced toward the fireplace.
“Carlos.”
“Sim?”
“I want you to go to Belfleur’s and begin searching the stables in the neighborhood. I want to know every person who rented a carriage and if they have all been returned.”
“They are bound to be closed at this hour.”
“Then wake them.”
Carlos gave a nod, struggling with his own near-blinding anger. Unlike Philippe, he did not possess the means of locking away his seething emotions. He needed to hurt something or someone. And he needed to do it soon.
“Of course, but you do realize that he might have come on horseback?”
“No.” Philippe gripped the edge of the mantel, his knuckles turning white from the force of his grip. “He arrived here intending to kidnap Raine. He could not risk being seen on horseback with a struggling woman, or worse, one that was bound and gagged.”
Carlos restlessly paced around the room. He could not allow himself to think of Raine being helplessly bound.
“A dangerous risk,” he rasped. “If he did come with the intention of taking Raine, then he would have to keep a watch on the cottage until we left. A carriage sitting in the street for such a length of time would have attracted notice.”
“Unless he was wise enough to leave it near the pub.”
Carlos gave a grudging nod. Seurat had proved he possessed at least some cunning. Too often he remained one step ahead of them.
