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Philippe sat back on his heels. “I beg your pardon?”
“If I desired revenge upon Seurat, I would seek it for myself. I do not need or want you to punish anyone on my behalf,” she informed him sternly.
His gaze slowly narrowed. “I was not asking for your permission.”
“Of course you were not.” She did her own bit of eye narrowing. “Why should you concern yourself with what I might want?”
Angry words were poised on Philippe’s lips before he forced himself to swallow them. Raine could claim an astonishing collection of skills, not the least of which was the ability to rouse the temper he had not even known he possessed.
“Oh, no, not tonight, Miss Wimbourne. You are not going to provoke me into an argument,” he informed her as he scooped her from the tub and wrapped her in a thick robe. Once she was warmly garbed he carried her to the bed and tucked her beneath the covers. He stretched out next to her and firmly tugged her into his arms. “On this night I intend to hold you close and assure myself that you are truly back where you belong.”
She tilted her head to give him a wry glance. “In your bed?”
“In my bed, in my home, at my side. Where I am, is where you belong.” He tucked another pillow beneath her head. “Are you warm enough? Do you need more blankets?”
Her brows slowly lifted at his solicitous concern. “Philippe?”
“Yes?”
“Are you feeling quite well?”
“No.” His arms tightened about her slender body. “In truth, I am not entirely certain I shall ever feel quite well again.”
She reached up to lightly touch his cheek. “I am safe and unharmed. There is no need to worry.”
“Perhaps you are right, meu amor.” He grasped her fingers and brought them to his lips, his gaze holding her own with a steady promise. “I shall not have to worry because I shall never allow you to be left without a guard again.”
She heaved a faint sigh. “You are being absurd.”
Just a few weeks ago Philippe would have entirely agreed with her opinion. He had always held absolute confidence in his own ability to conquer any enemy, whoever or whatever it might be. Now, however, he was absolutely determined to make sure that there were at least three burly servants keeping constant watch on the cottage. There would be no more surprises. For once he possessed something too precious to risk.
Breathing deeply of her enticing scent, Philippe allowed the warmth of her small body to chase away the last of the lingering chill.
Raine was home. She was where she belonged.
Tucking her head beneath his chin, Philippe simply held her until there was a soft knock on the door and Madame LaSalle bustled in with a heavy tray.
Crossing the room, the older woman offered a rare smile, as if pleased to discover that Philippe was capable of taking proper care of her beloved mistress.
“Here we are,” she said briskly, settling the tray on the bed. “A nice cup of broth and bread still warm from the oven.”
Struggling to sit upright against the mass of pillows, Raine breathed deeply of the enticing scents.
“Madame LaSalle, it smells wonderful.”
“It is precisely what you need t
o recover your strength. So be warned that I am not leaving this room until you have eaten every bite,” the housekeeper said sternly.
Accepting that he would be allowed no privacy with Raine until the staff had finished their fussing, Philippe reluctantly lifted himself off the bed and wrapped a robe about his half-naked body.
“Has Carlos returned?” he demanded.
“Oui. He returned only a few moments ago. He is eating in the kitchen.”
He bent down to brush his lips over Raine’s brow before straightening to regard the housekeeper with a warning gaze.
“Do not allow her to stir from that bed.”
