A Daring Passion. Rosemary Rogers

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      Meu Deus, he was one and thirty and fully experienced in the most exotic forms of seduction. But nothing had prepared him for the stunning pleasure, the searing heat and wild abandon that could be found in the awkward caresses of an untried angel.

      A distant part of his mind was whispering that he had just taken this woman’s innocence. That he debauched and despoiled a virgin. A sin that had had yet to be laid at his doorstep.

      That part of his mind, however, was lost beneath the tide of sated bliss that flooded through him.

      At last managing to recapture his breath, he gazed down at Raine’s flushed countenance as his fingers absently stroked through the halo of gleaming amber curls. The sweet scent of her skin filled his senses and he was quite certain that he would never again smell lilacs without thinking of this precise moment.

      “Are you well?” he queried.

      A blush of color flowed beneath her skin before she buried her face into his shoulder. “Yes, yes, of course I am.”

      “Raine.” He caught her chin in his fingers and turned her face upward. “Raine, look at me.”

      There was a pause before the thick fringe of lashes at last lifted to reveal her eyes.

      “What?”

      “Did I hurt you?”

      “No…” She bit off her instinctive denial as his eyes narrowed. “Perhaps a bit.”

      Philippe felt an uncharacteristic twinge of remorse as he brushed his lips over her forehead. “I am sorry for that. If I had known the truth of your innocence, I would have taken greater care. There was no need for any pain.”

      A tiny shiver raced through her body. “If I had been thinking clearly enough to tell you that I was a virgin then I would not have… We would not…”

      “If you think that I intend to apologize for what just happened then you are wide of the mark, querida. I do not even care to know the reason you chose to give your innocence to me.” He tightened his arms, savoring the feel of her soft body pressed against him. “For this one night I intend to enjoy what is offered without counting the cost.”

      His honesty seemed to disarm her as a portion of her blush eased and she gave a lift of her brows.

      “Do you usually count the cost?”

      “Always.”

      “Why?”

      His lips twisted. It was a question he never allowed himself to ask. Not since he had been fifteen and taken control of his father’s crumbling estate. Louis Gautier might be considered by all to be a most charming and gracious gentleman, but he had never possessed the least interest in his land or those servants and tenants who depended upon him. He found digging about in obscure places far more fascinating.

      And of course, Jean-Pierre could never be bothered with something so trivial as rotating fields, productive wine vineyards or the cost of transporting goods.

      “Because, my sweet Raine, I have a family and enormous staff who depend upon me to do so.” His fingers traced an aimless pattern on her lower back. “I may not be attempting to save the world by robbing unsuspecting travelers, but I do have my responsibilities.”

      Her lips tightened at his deliberate jab, but she was not distracted. “Like your brother.”

      “Jean-Pierre. Yes, damn his soul. Not only have I traveled for a fortnight to reach this dismal country, but now it appears I shall be forced to journey to France.”

      She blinked at the edge in his voice. “You make it sound as if it is something terrible. There are a great number of people who would be in raptures at the thought of spending their days in such a lovely place.” Her lips twisted. “Especially if they possessed the funds to stay at the most elegant châteaus and palaces in the world.”

      Philippe stiffened as she unwittingly touched the wound that festered deep inside him.

      “I…dislike France.”

      Her dark gaze searched his countenance; no doubt she sensed the coldness that was beginning to chase away the delicious heat that had so briefly held him in its grip.

      “But, you said you were born there.”

      “A perfect reason to hold it in abhorrence, would you not agree?”

      A grudging smile twitched at her lips. “Perhaps to a certain extent, but not even your birth there can make me think of France as anything but a wondrous place.”

      “Then perhaps I shall take you with me when I go,” Philippe said before he even knew the words were going to come out of his mouth. He did not know where they came from, or what had even prompted the strange compulsion, but once he recovered from his momentary shock he realized that it felt…right.

      If he were forced to travel through detestable France in search of an unknown enemy from his past, he surely deserved to have some compensation?

      Raine widened her eyes in disbelief at his words. “What did you say?”

      He deliberately stroked his fingers down the slender curve of her hip. “I will no doubt be occupied with my tasks much of the time, but there will be moments I could slip away to be with you.”

      “And you think I would be sitting around simply awaiting you to find a moment for me?”

      “It is surely better than continuing your rather dangerous occupation as a highwayman,” he replied as his roaming hand reached the soft curve of her backside.

      “I am not…” She snapped her lips together and gave a shake of her head. “No.”

      “That is not a word often used in my presence, querida.”

      Her dark eyes flashed with anger. “I will not become your…mistress. And I certainly will not travel to France.”

      Philippe was genuinely startled. He had never considered himself particularly vain, but after years of having women plotting and scheming to attract his attention he was jaded enough to expect most females to be delighted at the thought of being in his company.

      Especially a young woman who was no more than the daughter of a highwayman, no matter what her education.

      “And what is it you object to, Raine? Becoming my mistress or traveling to France?”

      “Both.”

      An unexpected flare of anger raced through him. This woman had given him her innocence. He had felt her shudder her climax in his arms. And even now he could feel her body stir beneath his light touch. He had given her the first taste of passion she had ever experienced.

      Not to mention the fact he could buy her anything her maidenly heart might desire.

      She should be in raptures.

      Instead a mulish expression was settled on her features.

      “You said that you thought France СКАЧАТЬ