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His green eyes glittered. “Why will you not admit that you do not want to see me harmed?”
“If I do not wish to see you harmed, it is simply because when someone finally does put a bullet into you, I intend to be the one pulling the trigger.”
Philippe merely laughed. “Ah, my bloodthirsty beauty. You say such charming things. Is it any wonder you have managed to beguile me?”
“Beguile?” An unwelcome pain raced through her. “Not likely.”
“You surely have not forgotten last night?”
She shivered against her will. Of course she had not forgotten last night. How the devil could she? The man had devoted hours to his tender assault. It had almost seemed as if he were determined to brand himself on her very soul as he had made her scream over and over in pleasure.
Thankfully, she was no fool. She understood the shallow emptiness of mere desire.
“Lust is not at all the same as beguilement.”
He lowered his head to brus
h his lips just below her ear. “It feels remarkably similar to me.”
“No.” Her hands fisted in her lap as she willed herself not to respond. “A man can experience lust for any woman who might cross his path. Beguilement implies that she is somehow special.”
Pulling back, he studied her pale features barely visible behind the veil.
“And you wish me to assure you that you are special to me?”
She turned her head to gaze out the window. “Do not, Philippe.”
“Raine? What is—”
“We appear to be halting,” she abruptly interrupted, studying the white building with a portico framing the door.
“This is our destination,” Philippe said, his hand reaching out to grasp her chin and forcing her to meet his narrowed gaze. “We will finish this later.”
He gave her no opportunity to respond as he shoved open the door to the carriage and assisted her down. Taking her hand, he placed it firmly on his arm and led her into the building.
Raine barely managed a swift glance around what appeared to be a literary salon when a lovely woman with glossy blond hair and a curvaceous form tightly encased in a brilliant crimson gown was making her way to stand directly before Philippe. She was stunningly beautiful with the sort of china-doll features and wide blue eyes that Raine had always envied.
She hated the woman on sight.
“Ah, Monsieur Gautier.” She held out her hand for Philippe to lift it to his lips. “How pleased I am to welcome you to my small salon.”
Philippe straightened, a smile curving his lips. “Madame Tulles.”
“I received your letter requesting to view my library. I believe you will discover some books of interest. If you will follow me?”
Philippe gave a nod and the woman turned to lead them past the low sofas and marble tables that were scattered throughout the large room. A handful of men were seated in a corner speaking in hushed tones, but none spared more than a fleeting glance toward them.
They entered a narrow hall and continued down to the last door before the woman came to a halt and turned to flash Philippe an intimate smile.
“He is waiting for you,” she told him in French.
“Merci, Juliana,” he murmured softly.
“Is there anything else you need?”
“Only a bit of privacy.”
“That I can promise.” They exchanged a glance that revealed they were far more than strangers. “I hope once your business is completed you will have time for pleasure. My door is always open to you, Philippe.”
