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“I beg your pardon?”
“The lies tumble from your lips with remarkable ease. I can only presume you are a local actress or a reprehensible hoyden who has a talent for falsehoods.”
Her lips tightened, her dark eyes flashing in the shadows. “You asked me to explain my presence here and I have done so, now, I insist that you release me.”
“Insist?” He gave a lift of his brow. “You are in no position to insist upon anything, querida.”
“You cannot hold me against my will.”
“I can do whatever the hell I please with you.” His gaze lowered to the delicate curve of her throat before roaming down to the tantalizing glimpse of her breasts. The urge to taste of that soft flesh hit him with a force that had him clenching his teeth. “An intriguing notion, is it not?”
Her eyes widened as the air filled with a prickling awareness that she could not fail to sense.
“You are no gentleman.”
He had never felt less a gentleman than at this moment, he accepted with a flare of unease. The things he longed to do to that soft, slender body were more fitting for a randy dockhand.
Fiercely, he turned his thoughts to more important matters. “No, I am a man who is accustomed to doing precisely as he pleases, and one who will halt at nothing to have his way,” he warned. “A knowledge you would do well to bear in mind. I have no compunction in making you suffer if you do not tell me the truth.”
A mutinous expression settled on the beautiful features. “You intend to beat me?”
“If necessary.”
“Fine. You can beat me all you desire. I will not tell you anything.”
Philippe did not doubt her sincerity. She was clearly a chit who possessed none of the usual female sensibilities. A woman prepared to take any outrageous challenge, no matter what the consequences.
A fact that might have inspired his admiration, if her audacious courage had not led her to assault his carriage. He possessed too much pride to easily forgive being treated as a common pigeon waiting to be plucked.
Of course, he had no intention of taking a whip to the ivory skin. It would be a sin against all that was holy. Oh, no. He had a far more pleasant sort of torture in store for this lovely criminal.
“Then I shall have to find another means of persuasion,” he said as he lowered his head.
“What do…?” She stiffened in shock as his lips skimmed the line of her jaw. “Oh.”
Philippe closed his eyes as the heat and sweet scent of lilacs washed through him. By God, she was wasted as a thief. She could make a fortune as a courtesan.
Meu Deus, at this moment he would pay that fortune.
“Such skin,” he whispered, his lips following the long length of her neck. “As perfect as the rarest pearl.”
She gave a small jump as he lightly nipped at the pulse racing at the base of her neck.
“No, you must not.”
His mouth continued its exploration, discovering the swell of her breasts. “Tell me who you are.”
“Raine,” she said on a strangled gasp.
Philippe used his teeth to tug the offending chemise out of his way. “Your real name.”
“That is my real name.” She shivered, but Philippe possessed enough experience to know it was not from fear. “Raine Wimbourne.”
“Raine.” He pulled back to regard the tight rosebud at the tip of her breast. It was already puckered as if pleading for the touch of his mouth. A plea he had no intention of ignoring. “Yes. It suits you.”
“You said if I told you my name you would release me,” she charged.
“You have not told me why you were playing such a dangerous charade.”
