LITMIR.BIZ

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magistrate was becoming far too suspicious. It was necessary to divert him before he had my father arrested.”

      “And so you took on the role?”

      “Just until my father could return.”

      He gave a slow shake of his head. Meu Deus, what other woman would have endangered herself in such a manner?

      This Raine Wimbourne was either incredibly loyal or touched in the head.

      “How long have you been doing this?”

      “Almost two months.”

      “And you have yet to be caught?” He gave a lift of his brows. “Your magistrate must be a simpleton. Unless, of course, you have bartered those considerable charms to encourage him to overlook your criminal activities? They are certainly tempting enough to make even the most intelligent man toss aside his morals.”

      Something very close to hatred smoldered in her dark eyes. “You are repulsive.”

      “You did not find me so repulsive a few moments ago,” he was swift to remind her. “Indeed, I have never heard sweeter cries of pleasure.”

      “They were cries of disgust, but then I suppose a man who regularly forces himself on unwilling women finds it difficult to distinguish between the two.”

      Philippe froze at the deliberate insult. By God, she was a damnable wench. Not a soul would blame him if he had forced himself upon her. She was a brazen doxy who had willingly put herself, and her dubious virtue, in danger.

      But unlike many gentlemen, he possessed a profound distaste in the thought of bedding an unwilling woman. Why bother when so many were eager to share their bodies? He had done little more than kiss her. And she had enjoyed the experience as well as he had.

      He damn well did not appreciate being accused of such infamy.

      Pulling back, he glared at her with distaste. “Cover yourself.”

      With awkward motions she pulled the coat over her slender form and struggled to sit up. Philippe sternly resisted the urge to rip the coat off her and toss it out the window.

      What the devil was the matter with him?

      “Will you release me now?” she demanded.

      Slipping behind his cool composure, he smoothed his greatcoat and forced his mind to return to the reason that he kidnapped the annoying chit in the first place.

      “You say you’ve been acting the highwayman for the past two months?” he demanded.

      She gave a startled blink at his abrupt question. “Yes.”

      “Always this road?”

      “No. I usually remain closer to Knightsbridge. It is far less dangerous.”

      “So this is your first night on the turnpike?”

      “Yes.”

      He fisted his hands. “Damn.”

      A frown tugged at her brows. “Who are you searching for?”

      “That is none of your concern.”

      Her lips pursed at his aloof reprimand. “Considering you kidnapped me for information on this mysterious person, I would think it very much my business.”

      “The only thing that is your business is whether I intend to bed you, beat you or take you to the authorities in London, who will not be so easily seduced as your local magistrate.”

      Her eyes widened in startled disbelief. “You cannot take me to London.”

      Philippe hid his unease at his impulsive words behind a mask of cool indifference. He hadn’t intellectually considered the notion of taking this female to London. Why should he? Not only did she know nothing of the man he was seeking, but this was no time to be distracted by a pretty face and body that would drive a man to insanity.

      But now that the words were out of his mouth, Philippe had no urge to take them back. Why not take her to London? a devilish voice whispered?

      She was clearly in need of a sharp lesson to keep her from endangering herself in such a reckless fashion again. A lesson he sensed would have to be severe enough to overcome that fierce, restless spirit.

      And, of course, once he had her suitably settled in his town house he would be at his leisure to explore the strange heat she managed to stir in him. It was…dissatisfying to think of her disappearing before he could actually discover if she could provide the intense pleasure that she promised.

      Yes, now that he truly considered the matter, it seemed the most logical of decisions.

      Settling back in his seat, he offered her a taunting smile. “And how do you propose to stop me?”

      Without warning she scrambled onto the opposite seat, her expressive face revealing precisely what she thought of his options.

      “I do not understand why you are doing this. I have told you that I was simply attempting to help those in need. If you possessed any decency at all you would release me.”

      “If you seek to touch my heart with your sad tale you are far off the mark,” he drawled.

      “Because you have no heart?”

      Philippe smiled coldly. Raine Wimbourne was not the first, nor was she destined to be the last, to learn the truth of him.

      “No, tolo pequena, I have no heart whatsoever.”

      CHAPTER FOUR

      RAINE KNEW THAT SHE MUST be in shock.

      What else could explain her befuddled reaction to this horrid man?

      One moment she was furious enough to stick a dagger in his heart, and the next she was quivering with excitement beneath his touch.

      Oh, yes. She was honest enough with herself to accept that her body had turned traitor the moment his lips had touched her.

      Of course, to be fair, she had to admit that she was singularly untutored when it came to the opposite sex. The convent had been secluded enough that the students never encountered unknown gentlemen. And those who did visit were well into their dotage, and usually priest, as well.

      How could she, such an innocent, possibly be expected to remain indifferent to a man who was obviously an expert in the matters of lovemaking?

      It was entirely his fault.

      Now, however, her temperament had turned firmly back in the direction of a dagger through his heart.

      Damn his rotten soul. Was he truly evil enough to carry her off to London and hand her over to the Runners?

      She would be tossed into Newgate prison. Perhaps even given to the hangman before a cheering crowd of onlookers.

      One glance into the indifferent, spainfully perfect countenance assured her that he was more than capable of whatever dastardly deeds might suit his purpose.

      A shudder raced through her as she once again turned her thoughts as to how to escape the damnable carriage. Her earlier efforts of distraction had been stunningly unsuccessful, but she could not entirely give up hope of escape.

      It simply was not in her nature.

      Adjusting the cape to wrap it about her shivering body, she sent her captor a resentful glare.

      “If you are to hold me captive, may I at least know your name?”

      A shaft of moonlight pooled over the man lounging in the corner of the carriage. In the silver light his dark beauty was almost ethereal. As if he was an angel that had tumbled to earth.

      But it was more this man had likely been pushed up from the depths of hell.

      “Philippe,” he at last retorted.

      Raine frowned at the faint accent. It was odd that she could not

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