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He had a dozen tasks that needed his attention. Not the least of which was meeting Carlos, who no doubt was already awaiting him in the garden. But still he lingered, his gaze watching her every delicate movement, his senses drinking in the scent and feel of her.
It was ridiculous. Absurd.
His lust was sated, his body pleasantly weary from the force of his climaxes. And yet still, there was a part of him that felt restless, unsatisfied. As if he were seeking something from this woman that he could not name.
At last he forced his lethargic muscles to stir, and he pulled on a pair of dark breeches and a rough wool coat that was more suited to a dockhand than a gentleman of means.
Setting aside the empty tray, Raine lay back on the pillows and watched him with those beautiful dark eyes. “Where are you going?”
Philippe’s groin tightened as his gaze swept over the fragile ivory features and the glossy amber curls spread across the pillows. The urge to rip off his clothes and return to the soft delight of her arms raged through him.
Meu Deus. The woman had cast a spell over him. That could be the only reasonable explanation.
“I do have duties that cannot be fulfilled by lying in bed with you, menina pequena,” he said harshly. More for his own sake than hers. He was beginning to fear that he could forget everything—his responsibilities, his family, even his precious vineyards—to be with this tiny slip of a girl.
She flinched at his words, even as her chin predictably tilted in a blunt challenge.
“Go then, sir. Go and do not return. It matters not to me.”
His anger fled as swiftly as it had risen, and with a self-mocking shake of his head Philippe moved to plant a fleeting kiss on her delectable lips.
“Seurat will have heard that I arrived in Paris by now, and unless he is considerably more stupid than I suspect, he will have managed to discover I am staying at this cottage.”
She frowned. “You think he will come here?”
“Not directly, but I do not doubt he has been sniffing around in the hopes of learning if I am a danger to his nefarious plans.” A cold smile touched his mouth. “I had Carlos hire a number of young lads to keep an eye on the cottage from a distance and come to him if they noted any strangers lurking about the place.”
“And did they?”
“He left a message waiting for me in the kitchen.”
Her frown deepened. “What do you intend to do?”
“That depends on what information Carlos has for me. I shall hopefully return before dawn.”
With one last kiss Philippe left the bedchamber and headed out of the cottage to cross the garden.
Dusk had already arrived, bringing with it an icy chill that sent the few citizens scurrying down the streets to the comfort of waiting fires. Philippe ignored the cold as he entered the cramped stables and waited for Carlos to detach himself from the shadows.
His friend was wearing the same rough clothing as himself, with the addition of a woolen cloak that he kept pulled around his large body as he glared at Philippe.
“Damn, I thought you intended to keep me waiting in this frozen garden for the entire night,” he groused.
Philippe shrugged. “I received your message only a short time ago.”
“And were obviously in no hurry to answer my summons.” Carlos studied him with a sardonic gaze. “Since when do you allow yourself to be distracted from your goal by a quick tumble?”
“Take care, Carlos. No one is allowed to show Miss Wimbourne disrespect.”
“What do you care? She is nothing more than a…”
With a blur of movement, Philippe had crossed the short distance and had his friend backed to the wall.
“I will not warn you again.”
“Be at ease, Philippe.” Carlos held his hands up in a gesture of peace, his eyes narrowed. “I am merely curious as to why this woman is so different than the others.”
Well, that was the question, was it not? Thankfully it was a question that he refused to contemplate at the moment.
