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“Do not squirm, Raine.” His voice was suddenly thick with his own need. “Not unless you deliberately wish to torment me.”
“The notion has some appeal.”
He chuckled softly, but he made no response as they crossed the yard of her father’s cottage and within a few minutes entered the shadows of the stable. The horse had barely come to a halt when Philippe was leaping to the floor and crossing to speak with the elderly groom who was absently whittling in a corner.
Raine narrowed her eyes in suspicion as Philippe spoke briefly to the servant, who promptly strolled from the stable, shutting the door behind him.
Her suspicion only deepened when Philippe returned to the horse and easily plucked her from the saddle. With a deliberate motion, he slid her body down his own before she was back on her feet.
Raine swallowed a groan of pleasure as she forced herself to step away from his lingering touch and glared into the face that had haunted her nights since her return to England.
“What are you doing?”
Philippe shrugged as he casually tossed aside his hat and gloves. “It is warm enough in here to keep us from freezing and we at least have a measure of privacy.”
Raine shivered in fear. The stables suddenly seemed small and dark and far too intimate with the sweet smell of hay in the air. Dear God, she did not want to be alone with this man. Not when her body was already aching to be crushed in his arms.
“I do not want privacy. I want you to return to Madeira and leave me in peace.”
His hooded gaze regarded her in the shrouded darkness. “Is that what you have found here, peace?”
“Yes, I have,” she said, thinking of the eager girls she had just left.
“Your father said that you had spent the day at the vicarage with your students.”
Her eyes widened in horror. “You spoke with my father?”
“Our meeting was long overdue.” Something that might have been regret clouded the perfect features. “I owed your father my deepest apologies, as well as the assurance that I would make sure your future was properly secure.”
So that was it, she thought as she abruptly turned away to hide her hurt expression. He was here out of a sense of guilt.
“You have already secured my future. Or do you not recall the three thousand pounds you requested your servant offer me before having me escorted off your estate?”
There was a long pause, as if she had managed to strike a nerve, then she heard him heave a deep sigh.
“That was ill-done.”
“Why?” She gave a faint shrug, relieved when her voice came out cool and dismissive. “It is the method that most gentlemen use to rid themselves of unwanted mistresses.”
“Damn you,” he growled, his hands landing on her shoulders to turn her to meet his burning gaze.
“What?”
“Do you wish to know why I sent you away?”
“It was obvious that you had tired of me. Just as I warned you would.”
“I will never tire of you.” His hands shifted to cup her face in his hands. “There has not been a moment that you have not haunted my thoughts.”
Her heart slammed against her ribs. “Rubbish.”
The lean, heartbreakingly handsome features twisted with anguish. “My God, Raine, there is not a room in my house that is not filled with your delicate scent, or where I cannot recall the sound of your voice. And my garden…” He slowly shook his head. “It is now no more than a bleak reminder of all I have lost. You are branded on my heart. And that is why I was forced to send you away.”
Her knees went weak as his soft words slammed into her with ruthless force. He seemed so…sincere. As if he truly was in pain.
Was it possible that Philippe really had missed her? That he regretted allowing her to leave? Had he come to…
No, oh, no, Raine Wimbourne. She could not be so gullible. Philippe could never give her what she needed. And she could not endure being hurt again.
