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The blow cracked his jaw and blinded his vision, and it was only his years of training that enabled him to instinctively jerk his head backward to avoid the second jab. Keeping his head low, Carlos used his considerable strength to shove his shoulder into his attacker’s stomach, sending them both onto the dusty stone floor.
He managed to land on top, but it was a short-lived victory. Even as he pulled back his arm to punish his brazen opponent, his sight cleared enough to realize that this was no accomplice of Seurat, or even a random thug. The moonlight slanting through the open door revealed the unmistakable features of Philippe Gautier.
Astonishment made him falter for only a heartbeat, but it was long enough to give Philippe the advantage. With a low curse, the man had flipped Carlos onto his back and held him in place with a threatening hand wrapped around his throat.
“Did you truly believe you could take her from me, amigo?” Philippe growled, his face a deadly mask of intent. “Did you think I would not hunt you down and kill you?”
Carlos grasped Philippe’s wrist and managed to loosen his hand enough to prevent himself from being strangled. How the hell had Philippe managed to track them to this cemetery? Had he suspected that they were plotting behind his back and waited for them to expose their hand?
Struggling to breathe, Carlos realized that it did not matter how he had found them. For the moment it was far more important that Philippe had convinced himself that Carlos was attempting to steal away the woman he considered as his own.
“If I had intended to take Raine away from you, Philippe, you would never have found us,” he rasped. “And my choice certainly would not have been a damp, frigid church in sight of your cottage.”
“You think I am a fool?” The green eyes flashed with a hectic fire, revealing the terrifying depths of his fury. Carlos had never seen his friend in the grip of such emotion. Not even when they had discovered Jean-Pierre was rotting in an English prison. It spoke to his desperation at the thought of losing Raine. “I know you stole the necklaces that I bought for Raine,” he continued. “I also know you took them to Paris and sold them.”
“How did you—” His startled question was choked off as Philippe’s fingers tightened on his throat. “Damn you, Philippe, I cannot breathe.”
“I do not care.”
“I am not a thief,” Carlos protested, relieved when the fingers eased. He had no desire to hurt Philippe, but he would not meekly allow himself to be throttled. “Raine gave the necklaces to me of her own will and requested that I sell them.”
Philippe stiffened, a muscle in his jaw throbbing as he struggled to control his fierce response.
“You claim that this betrayal was Raine’s notion?”
“There is no betrayal, but yes, it was your mistress who approached me and pleaded for my assistance,” Carlos said.
“You lie.”
“No, Philippe, not in this. I tell you the truth.”
There was a frozen silence as Philippe accepted that Carlos was not lying. A brief flash of something that might have been sorrow burned in his eyes before he was narrowing them with anger.
“She asked you to take her from me?”
“That…was not her intent,” he said cautiously.
Philippe sucked in a sharp breath. “Damn you, I will not endure riddles. Why did you take the jewels?”
“Because Raine desired the money they would bring,” Carlos grudgingly revealed. Despite his pledge to Raine, they needed to be done with this nonsense. She was out there alone with Seurat. If something happened to her it would be entirely his fault.
“If she wanted money she need only have asked me for it,” Philippe said, his voice raw.
“She did not wish you to know of her plans.”
“Her plans to leave me?”
“No.”
“Damn you, Carlos, I saw the two of you leaving the cottage. Together.” Those slender fingers once again pressed into Carlos’s throat, bruising his skin and choking off his air. “Where is she? Tell me.”
“Bloody hell, Philippe.”
“Tell me.”
“She is in the cemetery.”
“Why?”
