Return Of The Runaway
Return Of The Runaway
Sarah Mallory
‘IT SEEMED SUCH AN ADVENTURE TO ELOPE…’Lady Cassandra Witney once left behind everything she knew for love. Now, widowed, disillusioned and stranded in France, all she wants is to return to England, beg forgiveness of her family and forget about men for ever!But Cassie’s resolve never to fall for a man again is tested when fugitive Raoul Doulevant offers to escort her on her journey. Infuriating he may be, but he’s also honourable, brave and dangerously attractive! Perhaps Raoul can give this runaway the home she’s been yearning for…The Infamous ArrandalesScandal is their destiny!
The Infamous Arrandales
Scandal is their destiny!
Meet the Arrandale family—dissolute, disreputable and defiant! This infamous family have scandal in their blood, and wherever they go their reputation will always precede them!
Don’t miss any of the fabulous books in Sarah Mallory’s dazzling new quartet!
The Chaperon’s Seduction Already available
Temptation of a Governess Already available
Return of the Runaway Available now
and look for the fourth and final sinfully scandalous story, coming soon!
Author Note (#ulink_500d15f1-2cc8-54a7-abbc-583fe5a2d29f)
These days we think of surgeons as being at the top of the medical profession—skilled lifesavers, possibly even more important than general practitioners. In the eighteenth and nineteenth century things were very different. Doctors and physicians might be considered gentlemen, but surgeons worked with their hands, and rarely had any formal qualifications, so they were considered artisans, tradesmen. This is the world occupied by Raoul Doulevant, a Belgian surgeon who is proud of his skills but who knows he cannot be considered a suitable husband for the daughter of a marquess.
Cassie is an Arrandale, the errant granddaughter of the Dowager Marchioness of Hune. She is mentioned in the earlier books of this mini-series but never seen, having eloped and run off to France with her husband during the short-lived Peace of Amiens. Now, in 1803, the peace is at an end, Cassie is a widow and she wants to return to England.
This is the story of Cassie and Raoul’s flight through France. It is dangerous, difficult, and as they learn more about each other they realise their worlds are just too far apart for them to find happiness together without momentous sacrifices on both sides.
Enjoy their journey!
Return of
the Runaway
Sarah Mallory
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
SARAH MALLORY was born in the West Country and now lives on the beautiful Yorkshire moors. She has been writing for more than three decades—mainly historical romances set in the Georgian and Regency period. She has won several awards for her writing, most recently the Romantic Novelists’ Association RoNA Rose Award in 2012 (for The Dangerous Lord Darrington) and 2013 (for Beneath the Major’s Scars).
To Marianne—from the proudest mum in the world.
Contents
Cover (#u95fef5b3-9e62-5553-8171-c6786a1f75d6)
Introduction (#u32fa09ce-4d3a-57c5-ab94-4826aadad6c1)
Author Note (#uc08a3816-7659-54e4-8252-6b4af38c01f5)
Title Page (#ue9cd684f-df87-5b82-a8c4-6f383b747134)
About the Author (#u49f6b11c-0b62-5ce2-8ea4-ef098e3a1f16)
Dedication (#u1646465a-5923-51e4-b3c9-2f264a5097ba)
Chapter One (#ub51df16d-3c67-58df-922c-a844876f2f56)
Chapter Two (#u4c125ddb-eb65-5f56-a65a-d0801fc93c6d)
Chapter Three (#u85a4b314-f7f8-561d-983d-241ba015808f)
Chapter Four (#ubf1805fb-8288-5947-ad91-41322459c1b5)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_ca4ba268-734e-5bef-b380-84a40b442f6a)
Verdun, France—September 1803
The young lady in the room at the top of the house on the Rue Égalité was looking uncharacteristically sober in her dark-blue linen riding habit. Even the white shirt she wore beneath the close-fitting jacket bore only a modest frill around the neck. She had further added to the sobriety by sewing black ribbons to her straw bonnet and throwing a black lace shawl around her shoulders. Now she sat before the looking glass and regarded her reflection with a critical eye.
‘“Lady Cassandra Witney is headstrong and impetuous,”’ she stated, recalling a recent description of herself. Her critic had also described her as beautiful, but Cassie disregarded that. She propped her chin on her hand and gave a tiny huff of dissatisfaction. ‘The problem with being headstrong and impetuous,’ she told her image, ‘is that it leads one to make mistakes. Marrying Gerald was most definitely a mistake.’
She turned and surveyed the little room. Accompanying Gerald to Verdun had been a mistake, too, but when the Treaty of Amiens had come to an end in May she had not been able to bring herself to abandon him and go home to England. That would have been to admit defeat and her spirit rebelled at that. Eloping with Gerald had been her choice, freely made, and she could almost hear Grandmama, the Dowager Marchioness of Hune, saying, ‘You have made your bed, my girl, now you must lie in it.’
And lie in it she had, for more than a year, even though she had known after a few months of marriage that Gerald was not the kind, loving man she had first thought him.
A knock at the door interrupted her reverie. After a word with the servant she picked up her portmanteau and followed him down the stairs. A light travelling chaise was waiting at the door with Merimon, the courier she had hired, standing beside it. He was a small, sharp-faced individual and now he looked down his long narrow nose at the bag in her hand.
‘C’est tout?’
‘It is all I wish to take.’
Cassandra answered him in his own language, looking him in the eye. As the bag was strapped on to the chaise she reflected sadly that it was little enough to show for more than a year of married life. Merimon opened the door of the chaise and continued to address her in coarse French.
‘Milady will enter, if you please, and I will accompany you on foot. My horse is waiting at the Porte St Paul.’
Cassie looked up. The September sun was already low in the sky.
‘Surely it would have been better to set off at first light,’ she observed.
Merimon looked pained.
‘I explained it all to you, milady. I could not obtain a carriage any sooner. And this road, there is no shelter and the days can be very hot for the horses. This way we shall drive through the night, you will sleep and when you awake, voilà, we shall be in Reims.’
‘I cannot sleep in here.’ Cassie could not help it, she sniffed. How different it had been, travelling to France with Gerald. She had been so in love then, and so hopeful. Everything had been a delicious adventure. She pushed away the memories. There was no point in dwelling on the past. ‘Very well, let us get on, then. The sooner this night is over the better.’
* * *
It was not far to the eastern gate, where Cassie knew her passport would be carefully checked. Verdun still maintained most of its medieval fortifications, along with an imposing citadel. It was one of the reasons the town had been chosen to hold the British tourists trapped in France when war was declared: the defences made it very difficult for enemies to get in, but it also made it impossible for the British to get out.
When they reached the city gate she gave her papers to Merimon, who presented them to the guard. The French officer studied them for a long moment before brushing past the courier and approaching the chaise. Cassie let down the window.
‘You are leaving us, madame?’
‘Yes. I came to Verdun with my husband when he was detained. He died a week since. There is no longer any reason for me to remain.’ She added, with a touch of hauteur, ‘The First Consul Bonaparte decreed that only English men of fighting age should be detained.’
The man inclined his head. ‘As you say. And where do you go?’
‘Rouen,’ said Merimon, stepping up. ‘We travel via Reims and Beauvais and hope to find passage on a ship from Rouen to Le Havre, from whence milady can sail to England.’
Cassie waited, tense and anxious while the gendarme stared at her. After what seemed like hours he cast a searching look inside the chaise, as if to assure himself that no prisoner was hiding on the floor. Finally he was satisfied. He stood back and handed the papers to Merimon before ordering the postilion to drive on. The courier loped ahead to where a small urchin was holding the reins of a long-tailed bay and as the chaise rattled through the gates he scrambled into the saddle and took up his position beside it.
Cassie stripped off her gloves, then removed her bonnet and rubbed her temples. Perhaps now she was leaving Verdun the dull ache in her head would ease. It had been a tense few days since Gerald’s death, his so-called friends circling like vultures waiting to strike at the first sign of weakness. Well, that was behind her now. She was going home. Darkness was falling. Cassie settled back into one corner as the carriage rolled and bumped along the uneven road. She found herself hoping the roads in England were as good as she remembered, that she might not suffer this tooth-rattling buffeting for the whole of the journey.
The chaise began to slow suddenly and Cassie sat up. For some time they had been travelling through woodland with tall trees lining the road and making it as black as pitch inside the carriage. Now, however, pale moonlight illuminated the window and Cassie could see that they were in some sort of clearing. The ground was littered with tree stumps and lopped branches, as if the trees had only recently been felled and carried away. She leaned forward and looked out of the window, expecting to see the lights of an inn, but there was nothing, just the pewter-coloured landscape with the shadow of the woods like a black wall in every direction.
The carriage came to a halt. Merimon dismounted, tied his horse to a wheel and came up to open the door.
‘Step out, milady. We take you no further.’
Cassie protested furiously as he grabbed her wrist and hauled her out of the carriage.
‘How dare you treat me thus,’ she raged at him. ‘Your contract is to take me to Le Havre. You will not get the rest of your money if you do not do so.’
His coarse laugh sent a chill running through her.
‘No? Since you have no friends in Le Havre, and no banker, you must be carrying your money with you. Is that not the truth?’
The chill turned to icy fear.
‘Nonsense,’ she said stoutly. ‘I would not be so foolish as to—’
Another horrid laugh cut through her protests.
‘But certainly you would. Give me your purse now and perhaps we will not hurt you quite so much.’
Cassie glanced behind her to see that the postilion had dismounted and hobbled his horses. He was now walking slowly towards her. If only she had not left her bonnet in the chaise she might have made use of the two very serviceable hatpins that were secured in it. As it was she had only her wits and her own meagre strength to rely on. She took a step away from Merimon who made no move to stop her. Why should he, when the postilion was blocking her retreat?
‘I shall be missed,’ she said. ‘I have told friends I shall write to them from Rouen.’
‘A week at least before they begin to worry, if they ever do.’ Merimon gestured dismissively. ‘No one cares what happens to you, apart from your husband, and he is dead. I cannot believe the English détenus will be in a hurry to tear themselves away from their pleasures.’
No, thought Cassandra, neither could she believe it. Gerald had ensured that all her friends there had been his cronies, selfish, greedy persons who only professed affection if it was to their advantage. She was alone here, she was going to have to fight and it was unlikely that she would win. Cassie tensed as Merimon drew a long knife from his belt. He gave her an evil grin.
‘Well, milady, do we get your money before or after we have taken our pleasure?’
‘Never, I should think.’
The sound of the deep, amused drawl had them all turning towards the carriage.
A stranger was untying the reins of Merimon’s horse. The man was a little over average height, bare-headed, bearded and dressed in ragged homespun, but there was nothing of the peasant about his bearing. He carried himself like a soldier and his voice was that of one used to command.
‘You will move away from the lady now, if you know what’s good for you.’
‘We have no quarrel with you, citizen,’ called Merimon. ‘Be on your way.’
‘Oh, I do not think so.’
The stranger was walking towards them, leading the bay. With his untidy hair and thick beard his face was but little more than a dark shape in the moonlight, but Cassie saw the gleam of white as he grinned. For a long moment there was silence, tense and expectant, then everything exploded into action. With a howl of rage Merimon hurled himself at the stranger and at the same time Cassie saw the postilion bearing down upon her.
That was fortunate, she thought. Merimon was the bigger of the two and he had a knife. With the postilion she had a chance. Cassie tensed as he approached, his arms outstretched. His ugly, triumphant grin told her he thought she was petrified, but just as he launched himself forward she acted. In one smooth, fluid movement she stepped aside, turning, bending and scooping up a branch about the length and thickness of her own arm. Without a pause she gripped the branch with both hands and carried it with all her force against the back of the postilion’s knees. He dropped to the ground with a howl.
‘Nicely done, mademoiselle.’ The stranger trotted up, mounted on the bay. He held out his hand to her. ‘Well?’ he said. ‘Do you want to come with me, or would you prefer to take your chances here with these scélérats?’
Villains indeed, thought Cassie, quickly glancing about her. Merimon was on his knees, groggily shaking his head, and the postilion was already staggering to his feet. Swiftly she ran across to the stranger. She grasped his outstretched hand, placed one foot on his boot and allowed him to pull her up before him. He lifted her easily and settled her across his thighs before urging the horse to a canter.
Cassie had no fear of falling, the stranger’s strong arms held her firmly before him. The choice, since she was sitting sideways, was to turn into the man or away and Cassie opted for the latter, twisting her body to look ahead. The black shawl had snagged on one arm of her riding habit and now it fluttered like a pennant over her shoulder. It must have flown into the rider’s face because without a word he pulled it free, tossing it aside as they pounded away into the darkness of the trees. Cassie turned her head to watch it drift slowly to the ground behind them. Her only symbol of grieving for her husband, for her marriage. It was gone. She faced forward again, looking ahead into the darkness. Into the unknown future.
Chapter Two (#ulink_7f8ca941-0b14-5f98-8f71-16da87a93b41)
They rode through the woods with only the thudding beat of the cantering horse to break the silence. Cassie made no attempt to speak. It was difficult to see through the gloom and she wanted her companion to concentrate his efforts on guiding them safely between the trees. Only when he slowed the horse to a walk did she break the silence.
‘Do you know where we are going?’
She immediately berated herself for asking the question in English, but he answered her with only the faintest trace of an accent.
‘At present I have no idea,’ came the cheerful reply. ‘Once we are clear of the trees and I can see the sky I shall be able to tell you.’ He added, when she shifted before him, ‘Would you like to get down? We should rest this nag for a while.’
He brought the horse to a stand and eased Cassie to the ground. It was only then she realised her legs would not hold her and grabbed the saddle for support.
The man jumped down beside her.
‘Come, let us walk a little and your limbs will soon be restored.’
He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. His clothes were rough and smelled of dirt and sweat, but Cassie was in no position yet to walk unaided so she allowed him to support her. His strength was comforting, but he puzzled her. His manner and his voice belonged to an educated man, yet he had the ragged appearance of a fugitive.
She said cautiously, ‘I have not thanked you for coming to my rescue. What were you doing there?’
‘I needed a horse.’
His calm answer surprised her into a laugh.
‘That raises even more questions, monsieur.’
She thought he might fob her off, but he answered quite frankly.
‘I was being pursued and ran into the woods for cover. I saw the horse tethered to the carriage wheel with no one to guard him, since your companions were too busy threatening you. I was very grateful for that and thought it would be churlish to ride off and leave you to your fate.’
‘It would indeed.’
Cassie kept her voice calm, but she was beginning to wonder if she had jumped from the frying pan to the fire.
She made a slight move to free herself and immediately he released her. Reassured, she continued to keep pace with him, the horse clip-clopping behind them while the moon sailed overhead in the clear, ink-blue sky.
‘So you are a fugitive,’ she said, with some satisfaction. ‘I thought as much.’
‘And you are not afraid of me?’
Cassie’s head went up.
‘I am afraid of no one.’ She realised how foolish her swift retort would sound, considering her current situation, and she added slowly, ‘Not afraid. Cautious. As one should be of a stranger.’
‘True, but we can remedy that.’ He stopped and sketched a bow. ‘I am Raoul Doulevant, at your service.’
He expected a reply and after a moment she said, ‘I am Lady Cassandra Witney.’
‘And you are English, which is why we are conversing in this barbaric tongue.’
‘Then let us talk in French,’ she replied, nettled.
‘As you wish.’ He caught her left hand. Neither of them was wearing gloves and his thumb rubbed across the plain gold band on her third finger.
‘Ah. I addressed you as mademoiselle when we first met. My apologies, madame.’
She was shocked that his touch should feel so intimate and she drew her hand away. ‘We should get on.’
When she began to walk again he fell into step beside her.
‘Where is your husband?’
Cassie hesitated for a heartbeat’s pause before she replied.
‘At Verdun.’
‘He is a détenu?’
Again she hesitated, not wanting to admit she was a widow. That she was alone and unprotected.
‘Yes. That scoundrel you knocked down was the courier I hired to escort me back to England.’
‘A bad choice, clearly.’
She felt the hot tears prickling at the back of her eyes and blinked them away. This was no time for self-pity.
‘And what of you?’ she asked him, anxious to avoid more questions concerning her situation. ‘Who is pursuing you?’
‘Officers of the law. They think I am a deserter.’
‘They think it? And is it not so?’
‘No. I was discharged honourably from the navy six months ago.’
She said, a hint of censure in her voice, ‘In the present circumstances, with the country at war, I would have thought any true Frenchman would wish to remain in the service of his country, monsieur.’
‘Any true Frenchman might,’ he retorted. ‘But I am from Brussels. I grew up in the Southern Netherlands, under Austrian rule.’
‘And yet your French is excellent.’
‘My family came originally from a town near the French border and moved to Brussels when I was a babe, so I grew up learning the language. Then I moved to Paris and later joined the French Navy, so you see, for years I have spoken nothing else.’
* * *
The lady made no reply and Raoul asked himself bitterly why he put himself out to explain. What difference would it make to her? She was English and everyone knew they thought themselves superior to the rest of Europe. It was the very worst of bad fortune that he should have saddled himself with an English aristo!
‘The horse is rested now,’ he said shortly. ‘I think we can ride again.’
He mounted and reached down for her, pulling her up before him. He tried not to think how small and feminine she was, how the faint trace of perfume reminded him of balmy summer days. She settled herself on the horse, her dark curls tickling his chin. When the horse stumbled in the dark she clutched at his sleeve and instinctively he wrapped one arm around her waist.
She gasped and said haughtily, ‘Thank you, you do not need to hold me so tightly. I am in no danger of falling now.’
His jaw clenched. If she thought he had designs upon her she was much mistaken. Silently he released her and put both hands back on the reins, but it was impossible not to be aware of her for she was practically sitting on his lap. He thought ruefully that he would have enjoyed the situation, if she had been anything other than an Englishwoman.
They travelled on, alternatively walking and riding, but maintaining an awkward silence. Raoul concentrated on guiding their mount through the near darkness of the woods. At length he noticed that the trees were thinning and they emerged on to a wide track that stretched like a grey ribbon in the starry darkness. They dismounted and Raoul stared up at the sky. The moon had gone and the stars were dimming in the first light of dawn.
‘Do you know where we are now?’ she asked him.
‘We have been travelling north.’
‘The wrong direction.’
‘That depends upon where one wishes to go, madame.’
* * *
Cassie bit her lip. She was in a foreign land, enemy country. This man had saved her from an immediate danger, but there was no reason why he should do more for her. Indeed, the alacrity with which he had released her when the horse had missed its step suggested he had no wish to help her further. Yet she needed help. Her encounter with Merimon had shown her that.
She asked politely, ‘What is your destination, monsieur?’
‘Brussels.’
‘I want to get to England. Do you think it might be easier from there?’ She added, trying not to sound anxious, ‘I gave my passport to the courier.’
‘Then you have no papers.’
‘No.’
Suddenly she felt very vulnerable, alone in the middle of France with a stranger. A fugitive and she had only his word that he was not a villain. His next words sent a chill of fear through her blood.
‘Do you have any money?’
* * *
Even in the gloom Raoul saw the look of apprehension flicker across the lady’s face and it incensed him.
He said coldly, ‘I am no thief, madame, I do not intend to steal from you.’
She came back at him with all the arrogance he had come to expect from the English, head up, eyes flashing.
‘How do I know that? You stole the horse, after all.’
His lip curled, but it occurred to him that she had no other defence so he reined in an angry response. Instead he growled, ‘Remember, madame, I could have left you to your fate with those two villains.’
‘That is very true,’ she acknowledged. ‘I am obliged to you and I beg your pardon.’ She drew in a long breath, ‘And, yes, I do have a little money.’
Her stiff apology doused his anger immediately. He smiled.
‘Then you have the advantage of me, madame, for I have not a sou.’
‘Oh, I see. Let me give you something for rescuing me—’
He recoiled instantly.
‘That is not necessary,’ he said quickly. ‘After all, I have this fine horse, do I not?’
‘Yes, of course. He will carry you to Brussels, I am sure.’ She paused. ‘Is it far from here?’
He shrugged. ‘Depending on just where we are, three or four days’ travel, I would think. You would do better if you head for Reims, it is much closer and you will be able to buy your passage from there to the coast.’
‘Thank you.’ He watched her look at the sky, then up and down the track. ‘So, Reims would be that way?’
She pointed in a southerly direction, trying to sound matter of fact, as if she was well accustomed to setting off alone, in the dark, along a little-used road through an alien land, but Raoul heard the note of anxiety in her voice.
She is not your concern.
‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘If you keep to this track I have no doubt it will bring you to the Reims road. The sun will be coming up soon, you will have no difficulty finding your way.’
‘Then I will bid you adieu, Monsieur Doulevant,’ she said quietly. ‘I thank you for your assistance and I hope you reach Brussels safely.’
She gave a little curtsy, suddenly looking so lost and woebegone that every protective instinct he had rose to the fore.
‘Wait!’
Don’t do this, man. You owe her nothing.
Raoul ignored the warning voice in his head.
‘I will take you as far as Reims.’
The flash of relief he saw in her face was quickly replaced with suspicion.
‘How do I know you will not strangle me for my money?’
He ground his teeth.
‘If I strangle you, milady, it will be for your sharp tongue!’
Strangely, his words seemed to reassure her. She gave an imperious little nod.
‘I accept your escort, sir, and I thank you.’
‘It is my pleasure,’ he replied with equal insincerity. ‘Come, we will ride.’
* * *
As she allowed herself to be pulled once more on to the horse Cassie was relieved that she was not obliged to make the long walk alone. Her escort explained that they must not overtax their mount and they made slow progress. The road was deserted and they saw no one except a swineherd who was happy to sell Cassie his food sack in exchange for a handful of coins. The bag contained only wine and bread, but it was enough for two and at noon they rested in the shade of a tree to eat.
Cassie was hot and thirsty and when he handed her the flask she took a long draught. The wine was very rough and she felt its effects immediately.
Her companion broke off a piece of bread and held it out to her.
‘So you left your husband in Verdun?’
‘Yes.’ Cassie was tempted to tell him her husband was dead, but she remembered Merimon’s taunt and decided it was safer to infer she had a husband to protect her honour, even if he was many miles away. ‘Yes, he is at Verdun.’
She took the bread and nibbled at it as he surveyed her with his dark eyes.
‘I am surprised he allowed you to travel alone. You are very young to be married.’
Cassie straightened.
‘I am old enough!’
One dark brow went up.
‘How old?’ he asked her. ‘You do not look more than eighteen.’
‘I am nearly one-and-twenty and have been married a full year.’
‘Vraiment? Tsk, what were your parents about to allow such a thing?’
‘My parents died when I was a child.’
‘Even worse, then, for your guardian to approve it.’
Cassie thought of Grandmama.
‘She did not approve. We eloped.’
Cassie wondered why she had told him that. She was not proud of how she had behaved and the fact that it had all gone wrong just showed how foolish she had been. Falling in love had been a disaster and it was not a mistake she intended to make again. Glancing up at that moment, she thought she detected disapproval in those dark eyes. Well, let him disapprove. She cared not for his opinion, or for any man’s. She scrambled to her feet and shook the crumbs from her skirts.
‘Shall we continue?’
With a shrug he packed away the rest of the wine and bread and soon they were on their way again. Cassie maintained what she hoped was a dignified silence, but she was very much afraid Raoul Doulevant would think it more of a childish sulk. However, it could not be helped. She could not justify herself to him without explaining everything and that she would not do to a total stranger.
* * *
The sun was sinking when they met a farmer and his wife approaching them in a cumbersome wagon. Cassie listened while her escort conducted a brief conversation. The farmer confirmed that they were indeed on the road to Reims, but it was at least another full day’s ride.
‘You are welcome to come back with us,’ offered the farmer’s wife. ‘It is an hour or so back the way you have come, but we can give you and your lady a meal and a bed for the night.’
Cassie froze. The idea of food was enticing, but these people clearly thought that she and this unkempt stranger were, were...
‘Thank you, but, no, we had best press on.’
Raoul Doulevant answered for them both and exchanged a few more friendly words with the farmer before they parted. Cassie felt the hot flush of embarrassment on her cheek and it was all she could do to respond to their cheerful farewell with a nod of acknowledgement.
* * *
‘It is fortunate I refused their hospitality,’ he remarked, misinterpreting her silence. ‘A farmer’s hovel would not suit your ladyship.’
‘You are mistaken,’ she retorted. ‘A bed and a good meal would be very welcome, since I suspect the alternative will be a night spent out of doors. But you were very right to refuse. I would like to get to Reims with all haste.’
‘Certainly. We cannot get there too soon for my liking!’
‘Good. Let us ride through the night, then,’ Cassie suggested, rattled.
They rode and walked by turns until the last of the daylight faded away. Cassie was fighting to stay awake, but nothing would make her admit it. She was the daughter of a marquess, granddaughter of an Arrandale and it was beneath her to show weakness of any sort.
Thick clouds rolled in from the west, obscuring the sky and plunging the world into almost complete darkness. When the bay stumbled for the third time she heard Raoul Doulevant curse softly under his breath.
‘This is sheer foolishness, monsieur,’ she told him. ‘We should stop until the cloud lifts.’
‘That would delay our journey; I was hoping to make a few more miles yet.’
‘If the horse breaks a leg that will delay us even more,’ Cassie pointed out.
When he did not reply she admitted, albeit reluctantly, that she would like to rest. Immediately he drew the horse to a halt and helped Cassie to dismount. Without ceremony he took her arm and guided her and the horse from the near darkness of the road into the blackness of the trees.
‘Stay here, madame, while I see to the horse.’
Cassie slumped down against the base of a tree. Stay here, he had said. Did he think she would run away? She had no idea where she was, or which way she should go. She recalled how she had complained that she could not sleep in the carriage. What luxury that seemed now, compared to her present predicament. Not only must she sleep out of doors, but in the company of a stranger. The fact that they had introduced themselves made no difference; she knew nothing of this man.
She listened to the rustle of leaves as Raoul Doulevant secured the horse before coming to sit down beside her. She felt his presence rather than saw him and his silence unnerved her. She tried to recall what he had told her of himself.
‘So you are a sailor, monsieur?’
‘I was ship’s surgeon on the Prométhée for six years.’
‘Really?’
She could not keep the surprise from her voice and he gave a short laugh.
‘My clothes tell the different story, no? I was obliged to...er...acquire these to escape detection.’
‘If you were being pursued, then clearly that did not work.’
‘No. There is one, Valerin, who is very determined to catch me.’
‘He holds a grudge against you, perhaps?’
‘I stopped him from forcing himself upon my sister. I should have killed him, instead of leaving him alive to denounce me.’
Cassie shivered. The words were quietly spoken, but there was no mistaking the menace in them.
‘Where is your sister now?’
‘I sent her to Brussels. We still have friends there. She is safe.’
‘No doubt she is anxious for you to join her.’
‘Perhaps. Her last letter said she had met an old friend, a wealthy merchant who is now a widower. I think they will make a match of it. Who knows, they may already be married. She is a widow and does not need to wait for my blessing.’
It was the most he had said to her all day and his tone was perfectly polite so she pushed aside her animosity.
‘All the same, monsieur, it is good of you to delay your journey for me.’
When he did not reply she wondered if he was regretting his decision.
‘Try to sleep,’ he said at last. ‘I will wake you if the light improves enough to move on.’
‘Will you not sleep, too?’
The black shape shifted, as if he had drawn up his knees and was hugging them.
‘No.’
Cassie was too exhausted to wonder at his stamina or to fight off her low spirits. Eloping with Gerald Witney had been shocking enough, but she was very much afraid that her friends and family would be even more shocked if they could see her now, alone under the stars with a strange man. She sighed as she curled up on the ground. There was nothing to be done and she was quite desperate for sleep, so she made herself as comfortable as she could and closed her eyes.
* * *
Raoul sank his chin on his knees and gazed at the unremitting darkness. The track was well-nigh invisible now. They had been right to stop, he acknowledged, but he wished it had not been necessary. The sooner he was relieved of this woman’s presence the better. He travelled best alone, he did not want the responsibility of a foreign female, especially an arrogant Englishwoman. She could find her own way from Reims. After all, Bonaparte had no quarrel with women, she could hire a carriage to take her to the coast. Raoul closed his mind to the fact that she had been duped once by an unscrupulous courier. He had problems enough of his own to think of. He glanced up, although the darkness was so complete it was impossible to see where the trees ended and the sky began. There was no sign that the cloud would lift any time soon, so eventually he laid himself down on the ground, knowing he would be wise to rest.
* * *
Dawn broke, but not a glimmer of sun disturbed the uniform grey of the sky. Raoul put his hand on Lady Cassandra’s shoulder to rouse her. He could feel the bones, fine and delicate as a bird beneath his hand. But she was not that delicate. He remembered how she had brought her attacker down with the tree branch. He could not deny this aristo had spirit.
He shook her gently. ‘We must be moving.’
She stirred, smiling as if in the grip of some pleasant dream, and he thought suddenly that she really was very pretty, with her clear skin and a heart-shaped face framed by hair the colour of polished mahogany. Her straight little nose drew his eye to the soft curves of her lips and he was just wondering how it would feel to kiss her when she woke up and looked at him.
It was the first time he had looked into her eyes. They were a clear violet-blue, set beneath curving dark brows and fringed with thick, long lashes. He watched the violet darken to near black with fear and alarm when she saw him. He removed his hand from her shoulder, but the guarded look remained as she sat up. When she stretched he could not help but notice how the buttons of her jacket strained across her breast.
Raoul shifted his gaze, only to note that her skirts had ridden up a little to expose the dainty feet in their boots of half-jean. Something stirred within him, unbidden, unwelcome. He jumped up and strode off to fetch the horse. This was no time for lustful thoughts, especially for an English aristo.
* * *
Cassie scrambled to her feet and shook out her skirts before putting a hand to her hair, pushing the pins in as best she could without the aid of a mirror. She must look almost as dishevelled as her companion, but it could not be helped. He brought the horse alongside and held out his hand to her. As he pulled her up before him she marvelled again at his strength, at how secure she felt sitting up before him. She could not deny there was some comfort in being pressed close to that unwashed but decidedly male body. There was power in every line of him, in the muscular thighs beneath her and the strong arms that held her firmly in place. When she leaned against him, his chest was reassuringly solid at her back. Gerald had never made her feel this safe. Immediately she felt a wave of guilt for the thought and it was mixed with alarm. Raoul Doulevant was, after all, a stranger.
* * *
It was not cold, but the lack of wind allowed the mist to linger and the low cloud seemed to press on the treetops as they rode through the silent morning. Cassie’s stomach rumbled, reminding her that she had not eaten since yesterday.
‘There’s a village ahead,’ said Raoul presently. ‘We should find a tavern there.’ He drew the horse to a halt. ‘It might be best if you give me a few coins before we get there. It would not do for you to be waving a fat purse before these people.’
‘I do not have a fat purse,’ she objected. Cautiously she reached into her skirts to the pocket and drew out a small stockinette purse. She counted out some coins and handed them to Raoul, who put them in his own pocket.
‘Thank you. Now, when we get there, you had best let me take care of everything. You speak French charmingly, milady, but your accent would give you away.’
Cassie kept her lips firmly pressed together. He intended no compliment, she was sure of that. She contented herself with an angry look, but his smile and the glint of amusement in his eyes only made her more furious. If they had not been riding into the village at that moment she would have given him a sharp set-down for teasing her so.
* * *
The village boasted a sizable inn. When they had dismounted Raoul handed the reins to the waiting ostler and escorted Cassie into the dark interior. It took a few moments for Cassie’s eyes to adjust to the gloom, then she saw that the room was set out with benches and tables, but was mercifully empty of customers. A pot-bellied tapster approached them, wiping his hands on a greasy apron. Raoul ordered wine and food and their host invited them to sit down.
‘Been travelling long?’ asked the tapster as he banged a jug of wine on the table before them. Raoul grunted.
‘Takin’ my sister home,’ he said. ‘She’s been serving as maid to one of the English ladies in Verdun.’
‘Ah.’ The tapster sniffed. ‘Damned English have taken over the town, I hear.’
Raoul poured a glass of wine and held it out for Cassie, his eyes warning her to keep silent.
‘Aye,’ he said cheerfully. ‘But they are generous masters, only look at the smart habit my sister now possesses! And their English gold is filling French coffers, so who are we to complain?’
‘You are right there, my friend.’ The tapster cackled, revealing a mouth full of broken and blackened teeth. He slapped Raoul on the shoulder and wandered off to fetch their food.
* * *
Cassie could hardly contain her indignation as she listened to this interchange.
‘Sister?’ she hissed in a furious undertone, as soon as they were alone. ‘How can that man think we are related?’
His grin only increased her fury.
‘Very easily,’ he said. ‘Have you looked at yourself recently, milady? Your gown is crumpled and your hair is a tangle. I am almost ashamed to own you.’
‘At least I do not look like a bear!’ she threw at him.
Cassandra regretted the unladylike outburst immediately. She chewed her lip, knowing she would have to apologise.
‘I beg your pardon,’ she said at last and through clenched teeth. ‘I should be grateful for your escort.’
‘You should indeed,’ he growled. ‘You need not fear, madame. As soon as we reach Reims I shall relieve you of my boorish presence.’
He broke off as the tapster appeared and put down two plates in front of them.
‘There, monsieur. A hearty meal for you both. None of your roast beef here.’
Raoul gave a bark of laughter. ‘No, we leave such barbarities to the enemy.’
Grinning, the tapster waddled away.
‘Is that how you think of me?’ muttered Cassie. ‘As your enemy?’
‘I have told you, I am not French.’
‘But you served in their navy.’
He met her gaze, his eyes hard and unsmiling.
‘I have no reason to think well of the English. Let us say no more of it.’
‘But—’
‘Eat your food, madame, before I put you across my knee and thrash you like a spoiled brat.’
Cassie looked away, unsettled and convinced he might well carry out his threat.
The food was grey and unappetising, some sort of stew that had probably been in the pot for days, but it was hot and tasted better than it looked. Cassie knew she must eat to keep up her strength, but she was not sorry when they were finished and could be on their way.
* * *
Raoul Doulevant’s good humour returned once they were mounted. He tossed a coin to the ostler and set off out of the village at a steady walk.
‘The tapster says Reims is about a day’s ride from here,’ he told Cassie. ‘We might even make it before nightfall.’
‘I am only sorry he did not know where we could buy or hire another horse,’ she remarked, still smarting from their earlier exchange.
‘You do not like travelling in my arms, milady?’
‘No, I do not.’
‘You could always walk.’
‘If you were a gentleman you would walk.’
She felt his laugh rumble against her back.
‘Clearly I am no gentleman, then.’
Incensed, she turned towards him, intending to say something cutting, but when she looked into those dark eyes her breath caught in her throat. He was teasing her again. Laughter gleamed in his eyes and her traitorous body was responding. She was tingling with excitement in a way she remembered from those early days following her come-out, when she had been carefree and had flirted outrageously with many a handsome gentleman. Now she wanted to laugh back at Raoul, to tease him in return. Even worse, she found herself wondering what it would be like if he kissed her. The thought frightened her. In her present situation she dare not risk becoming too friendly with this stranger. Quickly she turned away again.
* * *
Raoul closed his eyes and exhaled a long, slow breath, thankful that the lady was now staring fixedly ahead, her little nose in the air as she tried to ignore him. What was he about, teasing her in such a way? There was something about the lady that brought out the rake in him and made him want to flirt with her, even though he knew it would be much more sensible to keep his distance. He had no time for women, other than the most casual liaisons, and instinct told him that involvement with Lady Cassandra Witney would be anything but casual.
He glanced at the lady as she rode before him. His arms were on either side, holding her firm while his hands gripped the reins. The bay was a sturdy animal and did not object to the extra weight and Raoul had to admit it was not excessive. She was petite, slender as a reed. He was almost afraid to hold her too close in case he crushed her. She was trying hard not to touch him, but sometimes the movement of the horse sent her back against him and those dark curls would tangle with his beard and he would catch a faint, elusive scent of summer flowers. Confound it, he was enjoying himself! He could not deny that having her sitting up before him made the journey much more pleasurable.
* * *
It soon became clear that the tapster’s estimate of the journey time was very optimistic. With only the long-tailed bay to ride progress was slow and in the hot September sun Raoul was reluctant to push the horse to more than a walking pace. He was glad when their road took them through dense woodland; that at least provided some welcome shade. The lady before him said very little. Perhaps she was still cross with him for teasing her, but he did not mind her reticence, for he was not fond of inconsequential chattering.
Raoul judged they had only an hour or so of daylight left and was beginning to consider where they would spend the night when the horse’s ears pricked. Raoul heard it, too, the jingling sounds of harness and male voices from around the bend ahead of them. Lots of voices. Quickly he dragged on the reins and urged the horse into the shelter of the trees.
Their sudden departure from the road shook his companion out of her reverie. She asked him what was happening and he answered her briefly.
‘It may be nothing, but I think there may be soldiers ahead of us.’
* * *
Cassie’s heart thudded with anxiety as they pushed deeper between the trees. It was bad enough that she had no papers to prove her identity, but she was also travelling with a fugitive. She could imagine all too well what would happen if they were caught. The ground had been rising since they left the road, but now it began to climb steeply and they stopped to dismount. In silence they moved deeper into the woods until they were out of sight of the road and the raucous voices had faded to a faint, occasional shout.
‘Stay here,’ muttered Raoul, tethering the horse. ‘I will go back and see what they are about.’
‘I shall come with you.’
‘You will be safer here.’
‘Oh, no.’ She caught his sleeve. ‘You are not leaving me alone.’
He frowned and looked as if he was about to argue, then he changed his mind.
‘Very well. Come with me, but quietly.’
He took her hand and led her back through the bushes, following the sound of the voices. At last he stopped, pulling Cassie closer and binding her to him as they peered through the thick foliage. She could see splashes of colour through the trees, mainly blue, but touches of red and the glint of sunlight on metal. The air was redolent with woodsmoke.
‘They are making camp for the night,’ breathed Raoul.
‘What shall we do? Can we circle around them and back to the road?’
He shook his head. ‘We have no idea how many of them there are. They may be the first of several units, or there may be stragglers. We must give them a very wide berth. We need to move deeper into the woods, too, in case they come foraging for firewood.’
It was at that inopportune moment, with French soldiers dangerously close, that Cassie discovered she did not wish to go anywhere. Raoul still had his arm about her waist and despite his rough and dirty clothes her body was happy to lean into him. She was disturbingly aware of that powerful figure, tense and ready to act. Growing up, she had always been impatient of convention and had craved excitement and danger. Instinct told her this man was both exciting and dangerous. A heady combination, she thought as he led her away. And one she would be wise to keep at bay.
They retrieved the horse and set off into the woods. Raoul was no longer holding her and Cassie had to fight down the temptation to grab his hand. She was perfectly capable of walking unaided and she told herself it was useful to have both hands free to draw her skirts away from encroaching twigs and branches. It was impossible to ride, the trees were too thick and their low branches were barely above the saddle. They walked for what seemed like hours. Cassie was bone-weary but stubborn pride kept her silent. As the sun went down it grew much colder and the thought of spending another night in the open was quite daunting.
It was almost dark when they saw before them a small house in a clearing. An old woman appeared at the door and Cassie stopped, knowing the deep shadows of the trees would hide them. She almost gasped with shock and surprise when Raoul put his arm about her waist and walked her forward into the clearing.
‘Come along, madame, let us see if we can find a little charity here.’ He raised his voice: ‘Good evening to you, Mother. Could you spare a little supper for two weary travellers? We were taking a short cut and lost our way.’
The old woman looked at them with incurious eyes until he jingled the coins in his pocket. She jerked her head, as if inviting them in.
‘I have salt herring I can fry for you and a little bread.’
‘That would suit us very well, Mother, thank you.’
They followed her into the cottage. Raoul’s arm was still about Cassie and he was smiling, but she knew he was alert, ready to fight if danger threatened. A single oil lamp burned inside and by its fragile light Cassie could see the house was very small, a single square room with an earth floor and a straw mattress in one corner. Cassie guessed the old woman lived here alone. A sluggish fire smoked in the hearth, but it was sufficient to warm the small space and Cassie sank down on to a rickety bench placed against one wall. The old woman gestured to Raoul to sit down with Cassie while she prepared their meal.
Cassie was exhausted. Raoul’s shoulder was so temptingly close and she leaned her head against it, watching through half-closed eyes as the woman poked the fire into life and added more wood. Soon the pungent smell of the fish filled the room. Cassie’s eyes began to smart and she closed them, but then it was too much trouble to open them again and she dozed until Raoul gave her a little nudge.
‘Wake up now. You must eat something.’
Sleepily Cassie sat up to find a small table had been pushed in front of them and it was set now with plates and horn cups. They dined on salt herring and bread, but when the old woman offered them some of her white brandy Raoul refused, politely but firmly.
‘Would it be so very bad?’ Cassie murmured when their hostess went off to fetch them some water.
‘Very likely,’ he replied, ‘but even if it is drinkable, to take it with the herring would give you a raging thirst.’
She accepted this without comment. She did not like the fish very much, but the bread was fresh and Cassie made a good meal. When it was finished the old woman cleared everything away. Raoul took a few coins out of his pocket and held them out.
‘Thank you, Mother, for your hospitality. There is double this if you will let us sleep on your floor tonight.’
The old crone’s eyes gleamed. ‘Double it again and I’ll let ye have the paillasse.’
Cassie glanced from the woman to the bed in the corner and could barely suppress a shudder at the thought of what might be crawling amongst the straw. To her relief Raoul did not hesitate to decline her offer.
‘We would not take your cot, Mother, nor your covers. We shall be comfortable enough before the fire.’
She shrugged and took the coins from his palm.
‘As you please.’
The old woman banked up the fire and cleared a space before it, even going so far as to find a threadbare rug to put on the ground. Raoul went outside to attend to the horse and the old woman gave Cassie a toothless smile.
‘You’ve got yourself a good man there, madame.’
‘What? Oh—oh, yes.’ Cassie nodded. She was too tired to try and explain that they were not married.
* * *
When Raoul returned the old woman blew out the lamp and retired to her bed with her flask of brandy, leaving her guests to fend for themselves before the fire. There was no privacy and they both lay down fully dressed on the old rug. Raoul stretched out on his back and linked his hands behind his head.
‘Do not fret,’ he murmured. ‘I shall not touch you.’
Cassie did not deign to reply to his teasing tone. She curled up on her side with her back to Raoul. She was nearest the fire and glad of the heat from the dying embers, but she could not relax. She was far too on edge, aware of Raoul’s body so close to her own. He was so big, and rough and...male. Gerald had been more of a gamester than a sportsman. He had been fastidious about his dress and she had never seen him with more than a slight shadow of stubble on his face. That is what she had loved about him; he had always looked like the perfect gentleman. She stirred, uncomfortable with the thought that he had not always acted like a gentleman.
Not that it mattered now, Gerald was dead and she would have to make her own way in the world. Sleepily she wondered why she had not told Raoul she was a widow. After all, it could make no difference to him, since as far as he was aware her husband was still in Verdun. But some deep, unfathomable instinct told her Raoul Doulevant was an honourable man. Now her hands came together and she fingered the plain wedding band. It was little enough protection, but it was all she had.
Cassie lay still, tense and alert until she heard Raoul snoring gently. The old woman had told them it was a full day’s walk from here to Reims, so by tomorrow they would be in the city and she could be rid of her ragged companion. She closed her eyes. The sooner dawn came the better.
* * *
Cassie stirred. She was still lying on her side, facing the fire which had died down to a faint glow, and the room was in almost total darkness. She reached down to make sure the skirts of her riding habit were tucked around her feet, but she could feel the chill of the night air through the sleeves of her jacket. She tried rubbing her arms, but that did not help much. She sighed.
‘What is the matter?’ Raoul’s voice was no more than a sleepy whisper in the darkness.
‘I am cold.’
He shifted closer, curving his body around hers and putting his arm over her. The effect was startling. Heat spread quickly through her body and with it a sizzling excitement. It did not matter that Raoul was dressed in rough homespun clothes, or that his ragged beard tickled her neck, her pulse leapt erratically as he curled himself about her.
‘Is that better?’
Cassie swallowed. She could not reply, her throat had dried, her breasts strained against the confines of her jacket. She was wrapped in the arms of a man, a stranger. Even worse, she wanted him to kiss and caress her. Heavens she should move away, immediately! But somehow she could not make her body obey, and the idea of lying cold and alone for the remainder of the night was not at all appealing. It was confusing, to feel so secure, yet so vulnerable, all at the same time.
Raoul’s arm tightened, pulling them closer together. So close she could feel his breath on her cheek, feel his body close against hers. She should protest, she should object strongly to being held in this way, but she was so warm now, so comfortable. The initial burning excitement had settled into a sense of wellbeing. She had never felt so safe before, or so warm. She felt a smile spreading out from her very core.
‘Oh, yes,’ she murmured sleepily. ‘Oh, yes, that is much better.’
* * *
Raoul lay very still, listening to Cassie’s gentle, regular breathing. It was taking all his willpower not to nuzzle closer and nibble the delightful shell-like ear, to keep his hands from seeking out the swell of her breasts. He uttered up a fervent prayer of thanks that the thick folds of her skirts prevented her knowing just how aroused he was to have her lying with him in this way.
He had been too long without a woman. How else could he explain the heat that shot through him whenever they touched? Even when she looked at him he was aware of a connection, as if they had known each other for ever. Fanciful rubbish, he told himself. She was a spoiled English aristo and he despised such women. By heaven, at eight-and-twenty he was too old to fall for a pair of violet-blue eyes, no matter how much they sparkled. And there was no doubt that Lady Cassandra’s eyes sparkled quite exceptionally, so much so they haunted his dreams, as did the delightful curves of her body. Even now he wanted to explore those curves, to run his fingers over the dipping valley of her waist, the rounded swell of her hips and the equally enchanting breasts that he judged would fit perfectly into his hands.
He closed his eyes. This was nothing short of torture, to keep still while he was wrapped around this woman. He turned his mind to consider how he must look to her, with his dirty clothes and unkempt hair. She must think him a rogue, a vagabond. He was not fit to clean her boots.
And yet here she was, sleeping in his arms.
Chapter Three (#ulink_c018787d-22e6-5ac0-8164-99d6a1205680)
They quit the cottage soon after dawn and followed the narrow track through the woods that the old woman told them would bring them to the highway a few miles to the west of Reims. They rode and walked by turns as the sun moved higher in the clear blue sky, but although Cassandra was cheerful enough her companion was taciturn, even surly, and after travelling a few miles in silence she taxed him with it. They were walking side by side at that point and Cassie decided it would be easier to ask the question now, rather than when they were on horseback. For some inexplicable reason when she was sitting within the circle of his arms it was difficult to think clearly.
She said now, ‘You have scarce said a dozen civil words to me since we set out, monsieur. Have I offended you in some way?’
‘If you must know I did not sleep well.’
‘Oh.’ Something in his tone sent the blood rushing to her cheeks as Cassie realised that she might have been the cause. She had woken at dawn to find they were still curled up together but even more intimately, his cheek resting against her hair and one of those strong, capable hands cradling her breast. It was such a snug fit she thought they might have been made for one another. A preposterous idea, but at the time it had made her want to smile. Now it only made her blush. He had still been sleeping when she had slipped out of his unconscious embrace and she had said nothing about it, hoping he would not remember, but perhaps he had been more aware of how they had slept together than she had first thought.
Cassie closed her eyes as embarrassment and remorse swept over her like a wave. If eloping with Gerald had dented her reputation, what had happened to her since leaving Verdun was like to smash it completely.
Raoul Doulevant cleared his throat.
‘How long have you been in France, milady?’
He was trying to give her thoughts a different turn and she responded gratefully.
‘Just over a year. Gerald and I travelled to Paris last summer, shortly after we were married. The Treaty of Amiens had opened the borders and we joined the fashionable throng. Then, in May this year, the Peace ended.’
‘Ah, yes.’ He nodded. ‘Bonaparte issued instructions that every Englishman between the ages of sixteen and sixty should be detained.’
‘Yes.’
Cassie fell silent, unwilling to admit that she had already been regretting her hasty marriage. She had stayed and supported her husband, even though he had given her little thanks for it after the first anxious weeks of his detention.
‘But now you return to England without him. I had heard the English in Verdun lived very comfortably.’
‘Only if they have money. Our funds were running very low.’
‘Ah. So now your husband’s fortune has gone you have abandoned him.’
‘No!’ She bit her lip. She should correct him, tell him it was her money they had lived on, that she was now a widow, but the words stuck in her throat. Pride would not let her admit how wrong she had been, how foolish. Instead she said haughtily, ‘You have no right to judge me.’
‘Why, because I am not your equal, my lady?’
‘You are impertinent, monsieur. I had expected better manners from a doctor.’
‘But I have told you I am not a doctor. I am a surgeon.’
‘But clearly not a gentleman!’
A heavy silence followed her words, but she would not take them back. An angry frown descended upon Raoul’s countenance, but he did not speak. Cassie kept pace with him, head high, but his refusal to respond flayed her nerves. She tried telling herself that it was better if they did not talk, that it was safer to keep a distance, yet she found the silence unbearable and after a while she threw a question at him.
‘If you are no deserter, why are you being pursued?’
‘That need not concern you.’
Cassie knew his retort was no more than she deserved, after what she had said to him. Her temper had subsided as quickly as it was roused; she knew it was wise to keep a distance from this man, but that did not mean they had to be at odds.
She tried to make amends by saying contritely, ‘I beg your pardon if my words offended you, monsieur, but you must admit, your appearance, your situation... We shall have a miserable journey if we do not discuss something.’
There, she had apologised, but when he said nothing she glanced at his angry countenance and thought ruefully that his pride was equal to hers. They were not suited as travelling companions. Cassie walked on beside him, resigned to the silence, but presently the strained atmosphere between them changed. The black cloud lifted from his brow and he began to speak.
‘A year ago—about the time that you came to France—I quit the navy and went to Paris to live with my sister Margot. She and her husband had taken me in when I had gone there ten years before to study at the Hôtel-Dieu under the great French surgeon, Desault. Margot was widowed three years ago, so by moving into her house I thought I could support her. Unfortunately last winter she caught the eye of a minor official in Paris, one Valerin. Margo did not welcome his attentions and I told him so. He did not like it.’
‘You were rather rough with him, perhaps,’ she observed sagely.
‘Yes. I came home one night and found him trying to force himself upon Margot. I threw him out of the house and broke his nose into the bargain. That was my mistake. Life became difficult, we were suspected of being enemies of the state, the house was raided several times. It became so bad that a couple of months ago I sent Margot to Brussels. I planned to follow her, once I had wound up my affairs in Paris, but Valerin was too quick for me. He accused me of being a deserter. When I looked for my papers they had gone, taken during one of the house raids, I suppose, and when I applied to the prefect to see the record of my discharge the files were missing.’
‘And could no one vouch for you?’
He shrugged. ‘My old captain, possibly, but he is at sea. A response from him could take months. I thought it best to leave Paris. And just in time. I was still making my preparations when Valerin came with papers for my arrest and I was forced to flee with nothing. He was so intent upon my capture that he sent word to the Paris gates, which is why you find me dressed en paysan and, as you put it, looking like a bear.’
Cassie bit her lip.
‘I should not have said that of you. I am in no position to preach to you now, monsieur.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘I have never been so dirty. What I would give for clean linen!’
‘I fear that will have to wait until we reach Reims, madame.’
* * *
They kept to the woodland paths and avoided the main highways. It made the journey longer, but Raoul was anxious to avoid meeting anyone who might ask for their papers. Their only food was some fruit, wine and bread they purchased from a woodsman’s cottage and at noon they stopped on a ridge, sitting on a fallen tree to eat their frugal meal.
‘Is that Reims ahead of us?’ asked Cassie, pointing to the roofs and spires in the distance.
‘It is. We shall be there before dark, milady.’ He sensed her anxiety and added, ‘I shall see you safe to a priest, or a nunnery, madame, before I leave you.’
‘Thank you.’ She sighed. ‘Travelling alone is very perilous for a lady.’
She was trying to make light of it, but he was not deceived. She was frightened, as well she should be. It was no good to tell himself she was not his responsibility, Raoul’s conscience told him otherwise. He made an attempt to stifle it, saying harshly, ‘You should have thought of that before you left your husband.’
He glanced down at her and saw that she was close to tears. The urge to take her in his arms was so great that he clenched his fists and pressed them into his thighs. He searched for something to say.
‘Why did you elope with him?’
One dainty hand fluttered.
‘He was handsome and charming, and he swept me off my feet. Grandmama, who is my guardian, said I was too young, but I thought I knew better. When Gerald suggested we should elope I thought it would be a great adventure. I do not expect you to understand, but life in Bath was very...tame. Oh, there were parties and balls and lots of friends, but it was not enough. I wanted excitement. Gerald offered me that.’
‘No doubt being in an enemy country and detained at Verdun has given you a surfeit of excitement.’
She frowned a little, considering.
‘One would have thought so, but do you know, it was not so very different from Bath. There are so many English people there and they are determined to carry on very much as they always do. There are parties and assemblies, race meetings and gambling dens, everyone finding silly or frivolous entertainments to fill the time. In truth it is a very a foolish way to live. To be perfectly honest, I was bored.’
Raoul watched her. She had clearly forgotten to whom she was talking, there was no reserve as the words poured forth and when she turned her head and smiled up at him, completely natural and unaffected, it shook him to the core. He had the very disturbing sensation of his whole world tilting. The ground beneath him turned to quicksand and it threatened to consume him. It was not that she was trying to attract him, quite the opposite. Her look was trusting and friendly, and it cut through his defences like a sword through paper.
He dragged his eyes away. He needed to repair his defences, to put up the barriers again.
* * *
Cassie sucked in a ragged breath, unsure what had just happened to her. In telling Raoul about her elopement she had opened her soul to him in a way she had never done with anyone before. Even when she had thought herself hopelessly in love with Gerald she had never felt such a connection as she did with this dark stranger. It frightened her.
He rose, saying gruffly, ‘We should go, we still have several hours travelling to reach Reims.’
Cassie nodded and followed him towards the horse. His voice was perfectly composed. He had not commented, displayed no emotion at what she had told him. No doubt he thought her an idle, frivolous woman, worthy only of contempt. When he sprang into the saddle and put his hand out to her she glanced up at his face, an anxious frown creasing her brow.
‘No doubt you think me a silly creature. Contemptible.’
The black eyes gave nothing away.
‘What I think of you is unimportant,’ he said shortly. ‘Come, let us press on.’
* * *
The afternoon grew warmer as they made their way towards Reims and the bay’s walking pace slowed to an amble. The city was lost to sight as they descended into a wooded valley where the air was warm and filled with the trill of birdsong. It was enchanting, reminding Cassie of hot summer days in England, but much as she wanted to share her thoughts with her companion she held back, knowing she must keep a proper distance. She had already told him far too much and feared she had earned his disapproval. Her spirit flared in momentary rebellion. Well, let him disapprove, it did not matter to her in the least.
When at last they dismounted she was thankful that the rough path was wide enough to walk with the horse between them. There must be no accidental brushing of the hands and heaven forbid that he should be gentleman enough to offer her his arm, for she would have to refuse and that might give rise to offence. How difficult it was to maintain propriety in this wilderness! The heat in the valley was oppressive and the sun beat down upon her bare head. She sighed, regretting the loss of her bonnet.
‘Are you tired, milady?’
‘No, merely hot and a little uncomfortable.’ She unfastened the neck button of her shirt. Even that was an indiscretion, she knew, but a very minor one, considering her situation.
‘Would you like to rest in the shade for a while?’
‘Thank you, but I would prefer to keep going and reach Reims. Perhaps there we can find some clean clothes.’ She could not help adding, ‘For both of us.’
His breath hissed out. ‘Does my dirty raiment offend you, milady?’
‘No more than my own,’ she replied honestly. ‘We are both in need of a good bath. I suppose it cannot be helped when one is travelling.’
He came to a halt.
‘An answer may be at hand,’ he said. ‘Listen.’
‘What is it? I cannot—’
But he was already pushing his way through the thick bushes. Cassie followed and soon heard the sound of rushing water. It grew louder, but they had gone some way from the path before they reached the source of the noise. Cassie gave a little gasp of pure pleasure.
They were on the edge of a natural pool. It was fed by a stream tumbling down the steep cliff on the far side and the midday sun glinted on the falling water, turning the spray into a glistening rainbow.
‘Oh, how beautiful!’
‘Not only beautiful, milady, but convenient. We can bathe here.’
‘What? Oh, no, I mean—’
Cassie broke off, but her blushes only deepened when Raoul gave her a scornful look.
‘You have warm air and clean water here, madame, I cannot conjure an army of servants for you, too. I am going to make the most of what nature has given us. I suggest you do, too.’
He tethered the horse and began to strip off his clothes, throwing his shirt into the pool to wash it. Cassie knelt on the bank and dipped her hands into the water. It was crystal clear and deliciously cool against her skin. From the corner of her eye she saw that Raoul had now discarded all his clothes. She looked away quickly, but not before she had noted the lean athletic body. How wrong she had been to describe him as a bear, she thought distractedly. There was only a shadowing of hair on his limbs with a thicker covering on his chest, like a shield that tapered down towards...
Oh, heavens! She must not even think of that.
She heard the splash as he dived into the pool and only then did she risk looking up again. Raoul was a strong swimmer, sending diamond droplets flying up as he surged through the water and away from her. For a moment she envied him his freedom before berating herself as a ninny. He had said she should make use of what he had termed nature’s gift and she would. The pool was large enough to keep out of each other’s way. There were several large bushes at the edge of the water and she moved behind one of them to divest herself of her riding habit. She shook out the jacket and the full skirts and draped them over the bush where they could air in the sunshine, then she followed Raoul’s example and tossed her shirt into the water. Once she had removed her corset she did the same with her shift, then she knelt at the side of the pool and washed the fine garments as best she could before wringing them out and hanging them over another convenient shrub. The sun was so high and strong she thought they would both be quite dry by the time she had bathed herself.
The pool was shallower in the secluded spot she had chosen and the cold on her hot skin made her gasp as she stepped in. Cautiously she walked away from the bank until the water was just over waist deep and she lowered herself until only her head was above the surface. Now her body was submerged she felt more comfortable. She moved into slightly deeper water and closed her eyes, feeling the heat of the sun on her face. Her body felt weightless, rocking with the gentle movement of the water, cleansing, relaxing.
‘There, do you not feel better?’
Cassie gave a little scream. Raoul was only feet away from her, his wet hair plastered to his head and his eyes gleaming with laughter.
‘G-go away, if you please,’ Cassie ordered him, praying the sun glinting on the surface of the water would prevent him from seeing her naked body. ‘Pray, go and wash your clothes, sir, and let me be private.’
‘I came to tell you I have been standing beneath the waterfall,’ he said, ignoring her request. ‘It is refreshing, I think you will like it.’
‘No, thank you.’
‘Why not? I will stay here, if you wish to be alone.’
‘I want to be alone here,’ she said, trying to keep her voice calm. The amusement in his eyes deepened and she glared at him. ‘Go away. I wish to dress. Now.’
‘But your linen cannot be dry yet.’
‘That is my concern, not yours.’
‘It is not far to swim across to the waterfall. You would feel better for the exercise.’
‘Most definitely I should not.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘You cannot swim.’ When she did not reply he reached out to her. ‘Let me teach you.’
‘No!’ The word came out as a squeak. ‘You c-cannot teach me.’
‘It is very easy.’
She shook her head, backing away a little, towards the bank, but having to crouch down in the shallower water.
There was a splash as he pushed himself upright.
‘Look, it is not so very deep, you could walk across, if you wished.’
Cassie was looking. Her eyes were fixed on those broad shoulders and that muscled chest glistening in the sunlight. Thankfully the rest of his body was still submerged.
‘Come.’ He held his hand out to her. ‘I want you to stand beneath the waterfall and tell me if it is not the most invigorating sensation you have ever experienced.’
It was madness. She should dress immediately, but a glance at the bank showed her that her shirt and her shift were still too damp to wear. She could sit here in the shallows while the sun baked the skin on her face to the colour of a biscuit or she could go with Raoul into the shade beneath the waterfall.
No, it was not to be contemplated, but already her hand was going out to his and she was edging out of the shallows. As the water came up over her shoulders she felt its power rocking her off her feet. Raoul’s grip tightened.
‘Do not worry,’ he said. ‘I will hold you.’
It surprised Cassie just how safe she felt with her hand held so firmly in his warm grasp.
‘Did you learn to swim in the navy?’ she asked in an effort not to think about his naked body, just an arm’s reach away from her own.
‘No. My father taught me.’
‘I would imagine it is a useful accomplishment for a ship’s surgeon.’
‘It is not difficult, you should try it. Even dogs can swim.’
‘I am not a dog, monsieur!’
‘No, I can see that.’
Cassie set her lips firmly together and suppressed an angry retort. If it wasn’t for the fact that they had reached the middle of the pool and the water was so deep that she was forced to stand on tiptoe, she might have moved away, but she needed his support. She maintained a stern silence and kept him at arm’s length as they moved forward. Cassie was also leaning away from her partner and she was reminded of seeing Grandmama performing a stately minuet. The thought made her want to giggle and she wondered what the marchioness would think if she could see her granddaughter now, naked as a babe and in the company of a strange man.
Raoul was guiding her to one side of the waterfall, where there was a gap between the sheer cliff and the falling water. Soon she began to feel the spray on her face, a fine mist that cooled her heated skin, but she did not have much chance to enjoy it, for an incautious step found nothing but water beneath her foot and she plunged beneath the surface. Panic engulfed Cassie before Raoul’s strong arms caught her up.
‘It’s all right, you are safe now, I have you.’
She grabbed his shoulders, coughing, and as he pulled her close her legs came up and wrapped themselves about his waist.
‘My apologies, milady,’ he muttered, his voice unsteady. ‘I had not noticed that the pool floor was so uneven here. I will carry you the rest of the way.’
She clung on, no longer concerned that they were naked, all that mattered was that she was safe in his arms. Her face was hidden against his neck, the salty taste of his skin was on her mouth. Whenever she breathed in she was aware of the faint musky scent of him. The sound of rushing water was loud and constant, but she could also hear Raoul’s ragged breathing and felt his heart hammering against her breast as he moved slowly, step by step, through the water. At last he stopped.
‘You can stand down now, madame. It is not so deep. Trust me.’
Trust him? She had no choice. It had been sheer madness to come so far from the bank, to put herself at the mercy of a man she did not know. She swallowed. How could she claim not to know Raoul Doulevant, when their naked bodies had been entwined so intimately? Even now his hands were moving to her waist, supporting her, giving her confidence. Keeping her head buried against him, Cassie unwrapped her legs from his body. Gingerly she reached down to find firm, smooth rock beneath her feet. She stepped away from Raoul, but could not bring herself to release his hand as she gazed around. It was much darker here and she looked up to see that they were standing behind a curtain of water that cast a greenish hue over everything. Without the sun to warm her, Cassie realised that the parts of her body above the water were tensed against the cold. She glanced down, noting with relief that her hair was hanging down and concealing her breasts, then thought wryly that it was a little late for modesty, when moments ago she had been clinging like ivy to her companion. She glanced towards him and gave a little laugh of surprise.
‘Your skin looks green!’
Raoul glanced at her.
‘And you look like a mermaid.’
‘Oh? You have seen one of those mythical creatures, I suppose.’
He grinned. ‘Hundreds.’
She was laughing up at him. Raoul was inordinately pleased that she shared his delight in this place and it was the most natural thing in the world to lean a little closer and kiss her. He felt a tremor run through her, felt her body yield a little before she regained control and backed away from him, eyes wide and dark. She released his hand, clearly preferring to run the risk of drowning rather than touch him.
‘We, we should go back now, monsieur.’
She would not meet his eyes and Raoul silently cursed himself. What was he about, consorting with this woman? He could not resist flirting with her, but she was not for him. Yet his body told him differently, it had known it from the first time he had pulled her into his arms and ridden away with her. Now it remembered every step he had taken with her in his arms, every moment of her warm flesh pressed against his, arousing him and sending the hot blood pounding through his veins and making him dizzy. Enough of such madness. He did not want her naked body in his arms again, she was too tempting. The instant and powerful arousal when she had flung her legs about him had almost toppled them both beneath the water. Yet she had felt as fragile as a bird when he held her close, her heart beating erratically against his chest, rousing in him a protectiveness that he really did not wish to feel for any Englishwoman. He must get them both back to the far bank without further embarrassing the lady. He set his jaw. That would not be easy when her naked form was so temptingly close. The apprehension in her face told him that she, too, was wondering how they would get back.
He turned away from her.
‘Put your hands on my shoulders and let your body float up behind you. If you relax you will find it easier.’
Obediently she placed her hands on his shoulders. Briefly he covered her fingers with his own.
‘Hold tight now.’
* * *
Cassie was gripping as tightly as she could, feeling the knotted muscle moving beneath her hands as he used his arms to help pull them through the water. Her body was still vibrating from his kiss, her blood felt hot and she wondered what would have happened if they had not been standing up to their shoulders in the cold water. She thought it might then have been much more difficult to pull away from him, to remember the dangers of her situation. Even now she was not safe; she could not make it back across the pool without his help. She knew she must keep her body away from that broad back and not pull herself close and allow her breasts to rest against him, which was what some wild and wanton part of her wanted to do. She kept her body straight, pushing her legs up towards the surface of the water and keeping her eyes fixed on the tendrils of dark hair curling at the nape of Raoul’s neck. At first it took all her energy to concentrate, but gradually she managed to relax a little and discovered it required less effort. She was floating out behind him and where her back broke the surface she could feel the heat of the sun on her skin. Her grip on Raoul’s strong shoulders eased, she tried a few tentative kicks with her legs and heard a chuckle.
‘A few more trips across the pool and I think you might be swimming, milady.’
Quite unaccountably, his words pleased her, but she managed not to give herself away when she responded. ‘No, I thank you.’ They had almost reached the bank and her feet sank to the pool’s floor. ‘I can manage from here. If you will leave me I will dress myself.’
‘Are you sure you would not like me to help you with your corset?’
She gritted her teeth. Really, he was quite infuriating.
‘I will manage,’ she told him. ‘Pray, go and dress yourself, monsieur. Over there, out of my sight.’
Grinning, Raoul swam away. Milady was back, as haughty and commanding as ever, but when he had climbed out of the water and was pulling on his shirt he heard a faint but unmistakable sound coming from the other side of those concealing bushes. Lady Cassandra was singing.
When at last she emerged from the bushes she was fully dressed and she had removed the pins from her hair, letting the thick, dark tresses spread around her shoulders while they dried. She looked better, he thought. Less tired and her eyes were brighter. She looked beautiful. A sudden, exultant trill of birdsong filled the air, like a fanfare for the lady.
Scowling, Raoul turned away and busied himself checking the girth on the saddle. This was no time for such fanciful ideas. Resolutely he kept his eyes from her until he was mounted on the horse.
‘Well, madame, shall we continue?’
He put out his hand. She sprang nimbly up, but from the way she held herself, tense and stiff before him, he knew that she, too, was trying to avoid touching him more than necessary.
* * *
Raoul pushed the bay to a canter and they covered the rest of the journey to Reims in good time. The sun was low in the sky when they reached the main highway and dismounted for a final time to rest the horse before they rode into the city. They had hardly spoken since leaving the pool, both caught up in their own thoughts, but as he waited for her to pin up her hair again he noted the frown creasing her brow.
‘What is in your mind, madame?’
‘How far is it from Reims to Le Havre?’
He shrugged. ‘Three days, perhaps, to Rouen, then another two to Le Havre. Or you may be in luck and find a ship in Rouen that will take you to the coast. You might even find one to take you all the way to England.’
‘But France is at war with England, will that not make it more difficult?’
Raoul shrugged. ‘Difficult, but not impossible, if you have money.’
Le Havre could be bustling with troops. Dangerous enough for him, but a pretty young woman, travelling alone, would have to be very careful. He glanced at her. She had finished pinning up her hair, but even so she looked remarkably youthful. An unscrupulous man might take advantage of her. He might steal her money, thought Raoul. Or worse. He remembered when he had first seen her, about to be attacked by the courier and his accomplice. She had been prepared to fight, but without his help she might not escape so lightly next time.
‘If you will help me to reach the coast and find a ship to take me home, I will pay you.’
The words came out in a rush and she fell silent after, keeping her eyes fixed on the distant horizon as if afraid to look at him.
Why not? Raoul asked himself. Because she is English and an aristocrat. Everything you despise. Everything you have cause to hate.
He glanced at the lady, noticed how tightly her hands were clasped together as she waited for his answer. She was also a woman and for all her bravado she was vulnerable and alone and it was not in his nature to turn his back on a defenceless creature.
He would prefer to travel to Brussels, but he had to admit that without money to pay his way any journey would be difficult. And once they reached a port he might well be able to find a ship to take him north along the coast.
‘How much?’
She shook her head.
‘I cannot say. I will pay for a carriage from Reims and our lodgings on the way and after that I need to find a ship to carry me home. I do not know how much all that will cost. However, if you will trust me, I will give you whatever I can spare, once I have booked my passage to England.’
Well, whichever way he went there was danger, but Raoul could not deny that the going would be easier if he had money.
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I will help you.’
She smiled, visibly relieved.
‘Good.’ She put out her hand. ‘In England our tradesmen shake hands on a bargain. We will do the same, if you please.’
His brows went up, but after a brief hesitation he took her hand. Once they had shaken solemnly he did not let go, but carried her hand to his lips.
‘Now I consider our bargain sealed, milady.’
He might have been holding a wild bird, the way her fingers fluttered within his grasp. Desire reared up again and he wanted to pull her into his arms. A shadow of alarm crossed her face. Had she read his mind? Perhaps she, too, was recalling that moment in the pool when she had wrapped herself about him, their warm bodies melding together in the cold water. Had she felt that tug of attraction?
‘Yes, very well.’ She pulled her hand free and turned away from him, saying briskly, ‘If we are going to travel together, then the first thing is to find you a decent set of clothes, and a razor. You are a disgrace. I cannot have my servant dressed in rags.’
His lip curled. There was his answer. That was what she thought of him.
‘So, madame, I am to be your servant?’
The look she gave him would have frozen the sun.
‘Of course. I am the daughter of a marquess and—’
He broke in angrily. ‘I do not acknowledge that your birth gives you superiority over me.’
* * *
Cassie had been about to confess that it would not be easy for her to imitate the behaviour of a servant. She had intended it to be self-deprecating, but his retort sent all such thoughts flying and she responded with icy hauteur.
‘I shall be paying you for your services, monsieur, since I have money and you do not.’
She was immediately ashamed of her response. It was ill bred, but his bitter interruption, the assumption that she was so full of conceit as to think herself superior, had angered her. Yet that in itself was wrong. What was it about this man that put her usual sunny nature to flight so easily? She was still pondering the problem when he jumped to his feet.
‘Well, now we have settled our roles in this little charade we should be on our way.’
He held out his hand to her, his face unsmiling, his eyes black and cold. As he pulled her to her feet Cassie bit back the urge to say something conciliatory.
This is how it should be. You do not want to become too close to this man.
He would help her reach England, she would pay him. It was a business arrangement, nothing more.
* * *
When they reached the city gates the road was so crowded and bustling with traders and carriages they were able to slip through without being questioned. The savoury aroma of food emanating from a busy tavern tempted them to stop and dine.
‘What do we do now?’ asked Cassie, when they had finished their meal and were once more on the street, Raoul leading their tired horse. ‘My preference is to find a respectable inn, like the one ahead of us, but...’ she paused and, recalling their recent altercation, she chose her next words carefully ‘...I fear our appearance would cause comment.’
Raoul rubbed his chin. ‘Yours may be explained by an accident to the carriage, but I agree my clothes are not suitable for a manservant. I have a plan, but I will need money, milady.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘What do you intend?’
‘You will go ahead of me, tell them your servant follows. I will find new clothes and join you in an hour.’
Cassie dug a handful of coins from her purse and gave them to him, then she watched him walk away. There was a tiny frisson of anxiety at the thought that he might not return.
‘Well if he does not come back there is nothing I can do about it,’ she told herself as she turned her own steps towards the inn.
Despite her own dishevelled appearance Cassie’s assured manner and generous advance payment secured rooms without difficulty. She requested a jug of hot water and set about repairing the ravages to her hair and her dress. She was only partly successful, but once she had washed her face and hands and re-dressed her hair she felt much more presentable. A servant came in to light the candles and Cassie realised with a start that darkness was falling outside now. Where was Raoul?
She sat down on a chair and folded her hands in her lap, willing herself to be calm. If he had taken the money and gone on his way she could hardly blame him, but she could not help feeling a little betrayed and also very slightly frightened at the thought of being alone.
Her ears caught the thud of quick steps on the stairs and she rose, looking expectantly towards the door, only to stare open-mouthed as a stranger entered the room.
Gone was the rough beard and shaggy, unkempt hair. Gone, too, were the ragged clothes. In fact, the only things about Raoul Doulevant that she recognised were his dark eyes, alight with laughter.
He was, she realised with a shock, devastatingly handsome. His black hair had been cut and brushed back from his brow. His cheeks, free of the heavy black beard, were lean and smooth above the firm jaw. His lips were so finely sculpted that Cassie felt a sensuous shiver run through her just looking at them. He stood tall and straight in a coat of dark-blue wool that stretched over powerful shoulders. The white linen at his throat and wrists accentuated the deep tan of his skin, while his long legs were encased in buckskins and top boots that showed his athletic limbs to advantage. To complete the ensemble he held a pair of tan gloves and a tall hat in hands. He flourished a deep bow and Cassie swallowed, unable to take her eyes off him. The laughter in his eyes deepened.
‘Well, milady, do I have your approval?’
‘Very much so.’ Her voice was nothing more than a croak and she coughed, hoping to clear whatever was blocking her throat. ‘Where did you find such elegant clothes in this little town?’
He grinned. ‘There are ways.’
It was all he would say and she did not press him. On closer inspection it was seen that the coat and breeches were not new and although the boots were highly polished they bore signs of wear. However, Raoul Doulevant presented the picture of a very respectable gentleman and Cassie glanced ruefully at her own clothes.
‘I fear the servant is now more grand than the mistress.’
‘That is a concern,’ agreed Raoul, coming further into the room. ‘When I arrived the landlord took me for your husband.’
‘Oh, heavens.’ She put a hand to her cheek, distracted by memories of standing with him beneath the waterfall. Suddenly her mind was filled with wild thoughts of what it might be like to be married to such a man. She closed her eyes for a moment. It would be disastrous. She had rushed into a marriage once and had suffered the consequences. Falling out of love had been almost too painful to bear. She would not go through that again.
‘Our host appears to be in some confusion over our name, too,’ Raoul continued, unaware of her agitation. ‘I told him we are Madame and Monsieur Duval.’ Her eyes flew open as he continued. ‘I believe, upon reflection, that it would be best if we travel as man and wife.’ He put up his hand to silence her protest. ‘I considered saying we were brother and sister, but although your French is enchanting, milady, you do not speak it like a native.’
‘No, but—’
‘And it would be impossible to pass you off as my servant, you are far too arrogant.’
‘I am not arrogant!’
He continued as if she had not spoken.
‘No, it must be as man and wife. It is settled.’
Cassie took a long and indignant breath, preparing to make a withering retort but he caught her eye and said with quiet deliberation, ‘You asked for my help, milady.’
There was steel in his voice and she knew it would be dangerous to cross him. She doubted he had ever intended to travel as her servant. Well, she had a choice—she could dispense with his escort, and thus break the bargain they had struck, or she could go along with his plan. The infuriating thing was she could not think of a better one.
‘Man and wife in name only,’ she told him imperiously.
‘Even after the...er...intimacies we shared in that shady pool?’
The laughter was back in his eyes, although his voice was perfectly serious. Cassie fought down her temper. He was teasing her, he enjoyed teasing her.
‘We shared nothing but being in the same water,’ was her crushing reply. ‘It was a mistake and will not be repeated.’
‘No, milady.’
‘It should be easy enough to keep a safe distance between us. It is not as if we are in love, after all.’
‘Indeed not.’
‘And in my opinion,’ she continued airily, ‘love is an emotion that is best left to poets and artists. Its importance in real life is grossly exaggerated.’
‘Truly? You believe that?’
He folded his arms and regarded her with amusement. Really, she thought angrily, he was much more at home in these new clothes. He was so assured. So arrogant!
Even as she fumed with indignation he said, grinning, ‘Explain yourself, milady, if you please.’
Very well, she would tell him. Cassie had had plenty of time to ponder on this over the past year. She waved her hand.
‘What passes for love is mere lust on the man’s part. It makes him profess feelings he does not truly feel and engenders a false affection that can never last.’ He was still grinning at her. Cassie said bluntly, ‘Let us say that the man is led by what is in his breeches, not his heart. And for the woman, why, it is nothing more than a foolish infatuation that fades quickly once she becomes better acquainted with her swain. Marital bliss and heavenly unions are not to be had by mere mortals. I am right,’ she insisted, when he had the audacity to laugh at her. ‘I have been—am married, after all. I know what goes on between a man and a woman. It is not as special as the poets would have us believe.’
‘If you think that, milady, it occurs to me that your husband is not an expert lover.’
Her brows rose. ‘And you are, perhaps?’
‘I have had no complaints.’
She met his dark, laughing eyes and for one panic-stricken moment she feared he meant to offer a demonstration of his prowess. She said hastily, ‘This is a most improper discussion. Let us say no more about it.’
‘Very well. But I fear my next news will not please you. Our host sends a thousand pardons to milady, but the servant’s room is not available.’ He patted his pocket. ‘He has refunded your payment for it.’
Cassie’s eyes narrowed and, as if reading her mind Raoul put up his hands.
‘This is no plan of mine, I assure you. The prefect has bespoke the room for a visitor and the landlord dare not refuse him. We must think ourselves fortunate he did not throw us out on the streets.’
Cassie was in no mood to consider anything but the fact that she must now share a room with this insufferable man. She dragged two of the blankets from the bed and handed them to him.
‘Then you will sleep on the floor!’
With that she threw a couple of pillows on to the chair, climbed up on the bed and pulled the curtains shut around her.
Cassie sat in the dark, straining her ears for every sound from the room. She was half-afraid Raoul might tear open the curtains and demand to share the bed. She remained fully dressed and tense, listening to him moving about the room, and it was not until she heard the steady sound of his breathing that she finally struggled out of her riding habit and slipped beneath the covers.
* * *
Raoul scowled at the blankets in his hand. By the saints, how would he make himself comfortable with these? But honesty compelled him to admit it was no more than he deserved. It was his teasing that had angered her, but for the life of him he could not help it. He had seen the flash in her eyes when he walked in. It had been a look of admiration, nay, attraction, and it had set his pulse racing. He had been determined to treat her as an employer, to convey the landlord’s news dispassionately and then they might have discussed the sleeping arrangements like two sensible adults. Instead he had given in to the temptation to bring that sparkle back to her eyes. He grinned at the memory. Even now part of him could not regret it, she looked magnificent when she was roused, a mixture of arrogance and innocence that was irresistible. With a sigh be began to spread the blankets on the floor. And these was his deserts. Well, he would make the most of it. He had slept in worse places.
* * *
Cassie had no idea of the time when she woke, until she peeped out through the curtains to find the sun streaming into the bedchamber. Cautiously she pushed back the hangings. The room was empty, the blankets and pillows on the floor showing her where Raoul had slept, but there was no sign of the man himself. Cassie slipped off the bed and dressed quickly, but a strange emptiness filled her as she wondered if Raoul had left for good. Perhaps, when he had realised she would not succumb to his advances he had decided to go his own way. The thought was strangely depressing and she could not prevent hope leaping in her breast when she heard someone outside the door, nor could she stop her smile of relief when Raoul strode into the room, a couple of large packages beneath one arm and a rather battered bandbox dangling from his hand. His brows rose when he saw her.
‘I hardly expected such a warm welcome, milady.’
‘I thought you had gone,’ she confessed.
‘And break our bargain? I am not such a rogue.’ He handed her the parcels. ‘I had a little money left from yesterday, plus the reimbursement from the landlord, and I decided to see if I could find something suitable to augment your wardrobe. There is also a trunk following; to travel without baggage is to invite curiosity, is it not?’
She barely acknowledged his last words, for she was busy opening the first of the packages. It contained a selection of items for Cassie’s comfort including a brush and comb and a new chemise. The second was a round gown of yellow muslin with a matching shawl.
‘Oh,’ she said, holding up the gown. ‘Th-thank you.’
‘I had to guess your size, but it is fastened by tapes and should fit you. And there is this.’ He put the bandbox on the table and lifted out a straw bonnet. ‘The fine weather looks set to continue and I thought this might be suitable.’
‘Oh,’ she said again. ‘I—thank you. I am very grateful.’
‘I cannot have my wife dressed in rags. My wife in name only,’ he added quickly. ‘Although after last night we must make sure we demand a truckle bed for the maid.’
‘But we do not have a maid.’
‘We shall say she is following on and then complain that she has not turned up. At least then I shall have a cot to sleep in.’
‘You seem to have thought of everything, monsieur.’
‘I spent a damned uncomfortable night considering the matter,’ he retorted. ‘Now, madame, shall we go downstairs and break our fast?’
Chapter Four (#ulink_342b6505-1daa-575a-9ac9-eaa41f87c8dd)
The lure of a fresh gown was too tempting to resist. Cassandra begged Raoul to wait for her downstairs and twenty minutes later she joined him in the dining room dressed in her new yellow muslin. She saw his eyes widen with appreciation and was woman enough to feel pleased about it. They were alone in the room at that moment and as Raoul held the chair for her Cassie murmured her thanks again.
‘The gown fits very well, monsieur, and the maid has promised to have my riding habit brushed and packed by the time we are ready to leave.’
‘Good.’ He took his seat opposite and cast an appraising eye over her. ‘The woman in the shop was correct, that colour is perfect for you.’
Cassie looked up, intrigued. ‘How then did you describe me to her?’
‘A petite brunette with the most unusual violet eyes.’
‘Oh.’ Cassie blushed. ‘Th-thank you, monsieur.’
* * *
Raoul berated himself silently. She thought he was complimenting her, but it had not been his intention. It was true he thought her beautiful, but he did not wish her to know that. Confound it, he did not want to admit the fact to himself. He gave his attention to his breakfast. He had told the truth, nothing more.
While she was busy pouring herself a cup of coffee he took another quick glance. There was no denying it, she was beautiful. The lemon gown enhanced her creamy skin and set off the dusky curls that she had brushed until they shone. She had pinned up her hair, accentuating the slender column of her throat and her bare shoulders that rose from the low-cut corsage. His pulse leapt and he quickly returned his gaze to his plate. Strange how the sight should affect him. After all, he had seen her shoulders before, and more, when she had been bathing in the lake. But something was different. He looked up again. Yes, there was a thin gold chain around her neck from which was suspended an oval locket set with a single ruby. But it was not the jewel that held his attention, it was the fact that the ornament rested low on her neck, directing the eye to the shadowed valley of her breasts.
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Sarah Mallory
‘IT SEEMED SUCH AN ADVENTURE TO ELOPE…’Lady Cassandra Witney once left behind everything she knew for love. Now, widowed, disillusioned and stranded in France, all she wants is to return to England, beg forgiveness of her family and forget about men for ever!But Cassie’s resolve never to fall for a man again is tested when fugitive Raoul Doulevant offers to escort her on her journey. Infuriating he may be, but he’s also honourable, brave and dangerously attractive! Perhaps Raoul can give this runaway the home she’s been yearning for…The Infamous ArrandalesScandal is their destiny!
The Infamous Arrandales
Scandal is their destiny!
Meet the Arrandale family—dissolute, disreputable and defiant! This infamous family have scandal in their blood, and wherever they go their reputation will always precede them!
Don’t miss any of the fabulous books in Sarah Mallory’s dazzling new quartet!
The Chaperon’s Seduction Already available
Temptation of a Governess Already available
Return of the Runaway Available now
and look for the fourth and final sinfully scandalous story, coming soon!
Author Note (#ulink_500d15f1-2cc8-54a7-abbc-583fe5a2d29f)
These days we think of surgeons as being at the top of the medical profession—skilled lifesavers, possibly even more important than general practitioners. In the eighteenth and nineteenth century things were very different. Doctors and physicians might be considered gentlemen, but surgeons worked with their hands, and rarely had any formal qualifications, so they were considered artisans, tradesmen. This is the world occupied by Raoul Doulevant, a Belgian surgeon who is proud of his skills but who knows he cannot be considered a suitable husband for the daughter of a marquess.
Cassie is an Arrandale, the errant granddaughter of the Dowager Marchioness of Hune. She is mentioned in the earlier books of this mini-series but never seen, having eloped and run off to France with her husband during the short-lived Peace of Amiens. Now, in 1803, the peace is at an end, Cassie is a widow and she wants to return to England.
This is the story of Cassie and Raoul’s flight through France. It is dangerous, difficult, and as they learn more about each other they realise their worlds are just too far apart for them to find happiness together without momentous sacrifices on both sides.
Enjoy their journey!
Return of
the Runaway
Sarah Mallory
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
SARAH MALLORY was born in the West Country and now lives on the beautiful Yorkshire moors. She has been writing for more than three decades—mainly historical romances set in the Georgian and Regency period. She has won several awards for her writing, most recently the Romantic Novelists’ Association RoNA Rose Award in 2012 (for The Dangerous Lord Darrington) and 2013 (for Beneath the Major’s Scars).
To Marianne—from the proudest mum in the world.
Contents
Cover (#u95fef5b3-9e62-5553-8171-c6786a1f75d6)
Introduction (#u32fa09ce-4d3a-57c5-ab94-4826aadad6c1)
Author Note (#uc08a3816-7659-54e4-8252-6b4af38c01f5)
Title Page (#ue9cd684f-df87-5b82-a8c4-6f383b747134)
About the Author (#u49f6b11c-0b62-5ce2-8ea4-ef098e3a1f16)
Dedication (#u1646465a-5923-51e4-b3c9-2f264a5097ba)
Chapter One (#ub51df16d-3c67-58df-922c-a844876f2f56)
Chapter Two (#u4c125ddb-eb65-5f56-a65a-d0801fc93c6d)
Chapter Three (#u85a4b314-f7f8-561d-983d-241ba015808f)
Chapter Four (#ubf1805fb-8288-5947-ad91-41322459c1b5)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_ca4ba268-734e-5bef-b380-84a40b442f6a)
Verdun, France—September 1803
The young lady in the room at the top of the house on the Rue Égalité was looking uncharacteristically sober in her dark-blue linen riding habit. Even the white shirt she wore beneath the close-fitting jacket bore only a modest frill around the neck. She had further added to the sobriety by sewing black ribbons to her straw bonnet and throwing a black lace shawl around her shoulders. Now she sat before the looking glass and regarded her reflection with a critical eye.
‘“Lady Cassandra Witney is headstrong and impetuous,”’ she stated, recalling a recent description of herself. Her critic had also described her as beautiful, but Cassie disregarded that. She propped her chin on her hand and gave a tiny huff of dissatisfaction. ‘The problem with being headstrong and impetuous,’ she told her image, ‘is that it leads one to make mistakes. Marrying Gerald was most definitely a mistake.’
She turned and surveyed the little room. Accompanying Gerald to Verdun had been a mistake, too, but when the Treaty of Amiens had come to an end in May she had not been able to bring herself to abandon him and go home to England. That would have been to admit defeat and her spirit rebelled at that. Eloping with Gerald had been her choice, freely made, and she could almost hear Grandmama, the Dowager Marchioness of Hune, saying, ‘You have made your bed, my girl, now you must lie in it.’
And lie in it she had, for more than a year, even though she had known after a few months of marriage that Gerald was not the kind, loving man she had first thought him.
A knock at the door interrupted her reverie. After a word with the servant she picked up her portmanteau and followed him down the stairs. A light travelling chaise was waiting at the door with Merimon, the courier she had hired, standing beside it. He was a small, sharp-faced individual and now he looked down his long narrow nose at the bag in her hand.
‘C’est tout?’
‘It is all I wish to take.’
Cassandra answered him in his own language, looking him in the eye. As the bag was strapped on to the chaise she reflected sadly that it was little enough to show for more than a year of married life. Merimon opened the door of the chaise and continued to address her in coarse French.
‘Milady will enter, if you please, and I will accompany you on foot. My horse is waiting at the Porte St Paul.’
Cassie looked up. The September sun was already low in the sky.
‘Surely it would have been better to set off at first light,’ she observed.
Merimon looked pained.
‘I explained it all to you, milady. I could not obtain a carriage any sooner. And this road, there is no shelter and the days can be very hot for the horses. This way we shall drive through the night, you will sleep and when you awake, voilà, we shall be in Reims.’
‘I cannot sleep in here.’ Cassie could not help it, she sniffed. How different it had been, travelling to France with Gerald. She had been so in love then, and so hopeful. Everything had been a delicious adventure. She pushed away the memories. There was no point in dwelling on the past. ‘Very well, let us get on, then. The sooner this night is over the better.’
* * *
It was not far to the eastern gate, where Cassie knew her passport would be carefully checked. Verdun still maintained most of its medieval fortifications, along with an imposing citadel. It was one of the reasons the town had been chosen to hold the British tourists trapped in France when war was declared: the defences made it very difficult for enemies to get in, but it also made it impossible for the British to get out.
When they reached the city gate she gave her papers to Merimon, who presented them to the guard. The French officer studied them for a long moment before brushing past the courier and approaching the chaise. Cassie let down the window.
‘You are leaving us, madame?’
‘Yes. I came to Verdun with my husband when he was detained. He died a week since. There is no longer any reason for me to remain.’ She added, with a touch of hauteur, ‘The First Consul Bonaparte decreed that only English men of fighting age should be detained.’
The man inclined his head. ‘As you say. And where do you go?’
‘Rouen,’ said Merimon, stepping up. ‘We travel via Reims and Beauvais and hope to find passage on a ship from Rouen to Le Havre, from whence milady can sail to England.’
Cassie waited, tense and anxious while the gendarme stared at her. After what seemed like hours he cast a searching look inside the chaise, as if to assure himself that no prisoner was hiding on the floor. Finally he was satisfied. He stood back and handed the papers to Merimon before ordering the postilion to drive on. The courier loped ahead to where a small urchin was holding the reins of a long-tailed bay and as the chaise rattled through the gates he scrambled into the saddle and took up his position beside it.
Cassie stripped off her gloves, then removed her bonnet and rubbed her temples. Perhaps now she was leaving Verdun the dull ache in her head would ease. It had been a tense few days since Gerald’s death, his so-called friends circling like vultures waiting to strike at the first sign of weakness. Well, that was behind her now. She was going home. Darkness was falling. Cassie settled back into one corner as the carriage rolled and bumped along the uneven road. She found herself hoping the roads in England were as good as she remembered, that she might not suffer this tooth-rattling buffeting for the whole of the journey.
The chaise began to slow suddenly and Cassie sat up. For some time they had been travelling through woodland with tall trees lining the road and making it as black as pitch inside the carriage. Now, however, pale moonlight illuminated the window and Cassie could see that they were in some sort of clearing. The ground was littered with tree stumps and lopped branches, as if the trees had only recently been felled and carried away. She leaned forward and looked out of the window, expecting to see the lights of an inn, but there was nothing, just the pewter-coloured landscape with the shadow of the woods like a black wall in every direction.
The carriage came to a halt. Merimon dismounted, tied his horse to a wheel and came up to open the door.
‘Step out, milady. We take you no further.’
Cassie protested furiously as he grabbed her wrist and hauled her out of the carriage.
‘How dare you treat me thus,’ she raged at him. ‘Your contract is to take me to Le Havre. You will not get the rest of your money if you do not do so.’
His coarse laugh sent a chill running through her.
‘No? Since you have no friends in Le Havre, and no banker, you must be carrying your money with you. Is that not the truth?’
The chill turned to icy fear.
‘Nonsense,’ she said stoutly. ‘I would not be so foolish as to—’
Another horrid laugh cut through her protests.
‘But certainly you would. Give me your purse now and perhaps we will not hurt you quite so much.’
Cassie glanced behind her to see that the postilion had dismounted and hobbled his horses. He was now walking slowly towards her. If only she had not left her bonnet in the chaise she might have made use of the two very serviceable hatpins that were secured in it. As it was she had only her wits and her own meagre strength to rely on. She took a step away from Merimon who made no move to stop her. Why should he, when the postilion was blocking her retreat?
‘I shall be missed,’ she said. ‘I have told friends I shall write to them from Rouen.’
‘A week at least before they begin to worry, if they ever do.’ Merimon gestured dismissively. ‘No one cares what happens to you, apart from your husband, and he is dead. I cannot believe the English détenus will be in a hurry to tear themselves away from their pleasures.’
No, thought Cassandra, neither could she believe it. Gerald had ensured that all her friends there had been his cronies, selfish, greedy persons who only professed affection if it was to their advantage. She was alone here, she was going to have to fight and it was unlikely that she would win. Cassie tensed as Merimon drew a long knife from his belt. He gave her an evil grin.
‘Well, milady, do we get your money before or after we have taken our pleasure?’
‘Never, I should think.’
The sound of the deep, amused drawl had them all turning towards the carriage.
A stranger was untying the reins of Merimon’s horse. The man was a little over average height, bare-headed, bearded and dressed in ragged homespun, but there was nothing of the peasant about his bearing. He carried himself like a soldier and his voice was that of one used to command.
‘You will move away from the lady now, if you know what’s good for you.’
‘We have no quarrel with you, citizen,’ called Merimon. ‘Be on your way.’
‘Oh, I do not think so.’
The stranger was walking towards them, leading the bay. With his untidy hair and thick beard his face was but little more than a dark shape in the moonlight, but Cassie saw the gleam of white as he grinned. For a long moment there was silence, tense and expectant, then everything exploded into action. With a howl of rage Merimon hurled himself at the stranger and at the same time Cassie saw the postilion bearing down upon her.
That was fortunate, she thought. Merimon was the bigger of the two and he had a knife. With the postilion she had a chance. Cassie tensed as he approached, his arms outstretched. His ugly, triumphant grin told her he thought she was petrified, but just as he launched himself forward she acted. In one smooth, fluid movement she stepped aside, turning, bending and scooping up a branch about the length and thickness of her own arm. Without a pause she gripped the branch with both hands and carried it with all her force against the back of the postilion’s knees. He dropped to the ground with a howl.
‘Nicely done, mademoiselle.’ The stranger trotted up, mounted on the bay. He held out his hand to her. ‘Well?’ he said. ‘Do you want to come with me, or would you prefer to take your chances here with these scélérats?’
Villains indeed, thought Cassie, quickly glancing about her. Merimon was on his knees, groggily shaking his head, and the postilion was already staggering to his feet. Swiftly she ran across to the stranger. She grasped his outstretched hand, placed one foot on his boot and allowed him to pull her up before him. He lifted her easily and settled her across his thighs before urging the horse to a canter.
Cassie had no fear of falling, the stranger’s strong arms held her firmly before him. The choice, since she was sitting sideways, was to turn into the man or away and Cassie opted for the latter, twisting her body to look ahead. The black shawl had snagged on one arm of her riding habit and now it fluttered like a pennant over her shoulder. It must have flown into the rider’s face because without a word he pulled it free, tossing it aside as they pounded away into the darkness of the trees. Cassie turned her head to watch it drift slowly to the ground behind them. Her only symbol of grieving for her husband, for her marriage. It was gone. She faced forward again, looking ahead into the darkness. Into the unknown future.
Chapter Two (#ulink_7f8ca941-0b14-5f98-8f71-16da87a93b41)
They rode through the woods with only the thudding beat of the cantering horse to break the silence. Cassie made no attempt to speak. It was difficult to see through the gloom and she wanted her companion to concentrate his efforts on guiding them safely between the trees. Only when he slowed the horse to a walk did she break the silence.
‘Do you know where we are going?’
She immediately berated herself for asking the question in English, but he answered her with only the faintest trace of an accent.
‘At present I have no idea,’ came the cheerful reply. ‘Once we are clear of the trees and I can see the sky I shall be able to tell you.’ He added, when she shifted before him, ‘Would you like to get down? We should rest this nag for a while.’
He brought the horse to a stand and eased Cassie to the ground. It was only then she realised her legs would not hold her and grabbed the saddle for support.
The man jumped down beside her.
‘Come, let us walk a little and your limbs will soon be restored.’
He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. His clothes were rough and smelled of dirt and sweat, but Cassie was in no position yet to walk unaided so she allowed him to support her. His strength was comforting, but he puzzled her. His manner and his voice belonged to an educated man, yet he had the ragged appearance of a fugitive.
She said cautiously, ‘I have not thanked you for coming to my rescue. What were you doing there?’
‘I needed a horse.’
His calm answer surprised her into a laugh.
‘That raises even more questions, monsieur.’
She thought he might fob her off, but he answered quite frankly.
‘I was being pursued and ran into the woods for cover. I saw the horse tethered to the carriage wheel with no one to guard him, since your companions were too busy threatening you. I was very grateful for that and thought it would be churlish to ride off and leave you to your fate.’
‘It would indeed.’
Cassie kept her voice calm, but she was beginning to wonder if she had jumped from the frying pan to the fire.
She made a slight move to free herself and immediately he released her. Reassured, she continued to keep pace with him, the horse clip-clopping behind them while the moon sailed overhead in the clear, ink-blue sky.
‘So you are a fugitive,’ she said, with some satisfaction. ‘I thought as much.’
‘And you are not afraid of me?’
Cassie’s head went up.
‘I am afraid of no one.’ She realised how foolish her swift retort would sound, considering her current situation, and she added slowly, ‘Not afraid. Cautious. As one should be of a stranger.’
‘True, but we can remedy that.’ He stopped and sketched a bow. ‘I am Raoul Doulevant, at your service.’
He expected a reply and after a moment she said, ‘I am Lady Cassandra Witney.’
‘And you are English, which is why we are conversing in this barbaric tongue.’
‘Then let us talk in French,’ she replied, nettled.
‘As you wish.’ He caught her left hand. Neither of them was wearing gloves and his thumb rubbed across the plain gold band on her third finger.
‘Ah. I addressed you as mademoiselle when we first met. My apologies, madame.’
She was shocked that his touch should feel so intimate and she drew her hand away. ‘We should get on.’
When she began to walk again he fell into step beside her.
‘Where is your husband?’
Cassie hesitated for a heartbeat’s pause before she replied.
‘At Verdun.’
‘He is a détenu?’
Again she hesitated, not wanting to admit she was a widow. That she was alone and unprotected.
‘Yes. That scoundrel you knocked down was the courier I hired to escort me back to England.’
‘A bad choice, clearly.’
She felt the hot tears prickling at the back of her eyes and blinked them away. This was no time for self-pity.
‘And what of you?’ she asked him, anxious to avoid more questions concerning her situation. ‘Who is pursuing you?’
‘Officers of the law. They think I am a deserter.’
‘They think it? And is it not so?’
‘No. I was discharged honourably from the navy six months ago.’
She said, a hint of censure in her voice, ‘In the present circumstances, with the country at war, I would have thought any true Frenchman would wish to remain in the service of his country, monsieur.’
‘Any true Frenchman might,’ he retorted. ‘But I am from Brussels. I grew up in the Southern Netherlands, under Austrian rule.’
‘And yet your French is excellent.’
‘My family came originally from a town near the French border and moved to Brussels when I was a babe, so I grew up learning the language. Then I moved to Paris and later joined the French Navy, so you see, for years I have spoken nothing else.’
* * *
The lady made no reply and Raoul asked himself bitterly why he put himself out to explain. What difference would it make to her? She was English and everyone knew they thought themselves superior to the rest of Europe. It was the very worst of bad fortune that he should have saddled himself with an English aristo!
‘The horse is rested now,’ he said shortly. ‘I think we can ride again.’
He mounted and reached down for her, pulling her up before him. He tried not to think how small and feminine she was, how the faint trace of perfume reminded him of balmy summer days. She settled herself on the horse, her dark curls tickling his chin. When the horse stumbled in the dark she clutched at his sleeve and instinctively he wrapped one arm around her waist.
She gasped and said haughtily, ‘Thank you, you do not need to hold me so tightly. I am in no danger of falling now.’
His jaw clenched. If she thought he had designs upon her she was much mistaken. Silently he released her and put both hands back on the reins, but it was impossible not to be aware of her for she was practically sitting on his lap. He thought ruefully that he would have enjoyed the situation, if she had been anything other than an Englishwoman.
They travelled on, alternatively walking and riding, but maintaining an awkward silence. Raoul concentrated on guiding their mount through the near darkness of the woods. At length he noticed that the trees were thinning and they emerged on to a wide track that stretched like a grey ribbon in the starry darkness. They dismounted and Raoul stared up at the sky. The moon had gone and the stars were dimming in the first light of dawn.
‘Do you know where we are now?’ she asked him.
‘We have been travelling north.’
‘The wrong direction.’
‘That depends upon where one wishes to go, madame.’
* * *
Cassie bit her lip. She was in a foreign land, enemy country. This man had saved her from an immediate danger, but there was no reason why he should do more for her. Indeed, the alacrity with which he had released her when the horse had missed its step suggested he had no wish to help her further. Yet she needed help. Her encounter with Merimon had shown her that.
She asked politely, ‘What is your destination, monsieur?’
‘Brussels.’
‘I want to get to England. Do you think it might be easier from there?’ She added, trying not to sound anxious, ‘I gave my passport to the courier.’
‘Then you have no papers.’
‘No.’
Suddenly she felt very vulnerable, alone in the middle of France with a stranger. A fugitive and she had only his word that he was not a villain. His next words sent a chill of fear through her blood.
‘Do you have any money?’
* * *
Even in the gloom Raoul saw the look of apprehension flicker across the lady’s face and it incensed him.
He said coldly, ‘I am no thief, madame, I do not intend to steal from you.’
She came back at him with all the arrogance he had come to expect from the English, head up, eyes flashing.
‘How do I know that? You stole the horse, after all.’
His lip curled, but it occurred to him that she had no other defence so he reined in an angry response. Instead he growled, ‘Remember, madame, I could have left you to your fate with those two villains.’
‘That is very true,’ she acknowledged. ‘I am obliged to you and I beg your pardon.’ She drew in a long breath, ‘And, yes, I do have a little money.’
Her stiff apology doused his anger immediately. He smiled.
‘Then you have the advantage of me, madame, for I have not a sou.’
‘Oh, I see. Let me give you something for rescuing me—’
He recoiled instantly.
‘That is not necessary,’ he said quickly. ‘After all, I have this fine horse, do I not?’
‘Yes, of course. He will carry you to Brussels, I am sure.’ She paused. ‘Is it far from here?’
He shrugged. ‘Depending on just where we are, three or four days’ travel, I would think. You would do better if you head for Reims, it is much closer and you will be able to buy your passage from there to the coast.’
‘Thank you.’ He watched her look at the sky, then up and down the track. ‘So, Reims would be that way?’
She pointed in a southerly direction, trying to sound matter of fact, as if she was well accustomed to setting off alone, in the dark, along a little-used road through an alien land, but Raoul heard the note of anxiety in her voice.
She is not your concern.
‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘If you keep to this track I have no doubt it will bring you to the Reims road. The sun will be coming up soon, you will have no difficulty finding your way.’
‘Then I will bid you adieu, Monsieur Doulevant,’ she said quietly. ‘I thank you for your assistance and I hope you reach Brussels safely.’
She gave a little curtsy, suddenly looking so lost and woebegone that every protective instinct he had rose to the fore.
‘Wait!’
Don’t do this, man. You owe her nothing.
Raoul ignored the warning voice in his head.
‘I will take you as far as Reims.’
The flash of relief he saw in her face was quickly replaced with suspicion.
‘How do I know you will not strangle me for my money?’
He ground his teeth.
‘If I strangle you, milady, it will be for your sharp tongue!’
Strangely, his words seemed to reassure her. She gave an imperious little nod.
‘I accept your escort, sir, and I thank you.’
‘It is my pleasure,’ he replied with equal insincerity. ‘Come, we will ride.’
* * *
As she allowed herself to be pulled once more on to the horse Cassie was relieved that she was not obliged to make the long walk alone. Her escort explained that they must not overtax their mount and they made slow progress. The road was deserted and they saw no one except a swineherd who was happy to sell Cassie his food sack in exchange for a handful of coins. The bag contained only wine and bread, but it was enough for two and at noon they rested in the shade of a tree to eat.
Cassie was hot and thirsty and when he handed her the flask she took a long draught. The wine was very rough and she felt its effects immediately.
Her companion broke off a piece of bread and held it out to her.
‘So you left your husband in Verdun?’
‘Yes.’ Cassie was tempted to tell him her husband was dead, but she remembered Merimon’s taunt and decided it was safer to infer she had a husband to protect her honour, even if he was many miles away. ‘Yes, he is at Verdun.’
She took the bread and nibbled at it as he surveyed her with his dark eyes.
‘I am surprised he allowed you to travel alone. You are very young to be married.’
Cassie straightened.
‘I am old enough!’
One dark brow went up.
‘How old?’ he asked her. ‘You do not look more than eighteen.’
‘I am nearly one-and-twenty and have been married a full year.’
‘Vraiment? Tsk, what were your parents about to allow such a thing?’
‘My parents died when I was a child.’
‘Even worse, then, for your guardian to approve it.’
Cassie thought of Grandmama.
‘She did not approve. We eloped.’
Cassie wondered why she had told him that. She was not proud of how she had behaved and the fact that it had all gone wrong just showed how foolish she had been. Falling in love had been a disaster and it was not a mistake she intended to make again. Glancing up at that moment, she thought she detected disapproval in those dark eyes. Well, let him disapprove. She cared not for his opinion, or for any man’s. She scrambled to her feet and shook the crumbs from her skirts.
‘Shall we continue?’
With a shrug he packed away the rest of the wine and bread and soon they were on their way again. Cassie maintained what she hoped was a dignified silence, but she was very much afraid Raoul Doulevant would think it more of a childish sulk. However, it could not be helped. She could not justify herself to him without explaining everything and that she would not do to a total stranger.
* * *
The sun was sinking when they met a farmer and his wife approaching them in a cumbersome wagon. Cassie listened while her escort conducted a brief conversation. The farmer confirmed that they were indeed on the road to Reims, but it was at least another full day’s ride.
‘You are welcome to come back with us,’ offered the farmer’s wife. ‘It is an hour or so back the way you have come, but we can give you and your lady a meal and a bed for the night.’
Cassie froze. The idea of food was enticing, but these people clearly thought that she and this unkempt stranger were, were...
‘Thank you, but, no, we had best press on.’
Raoul Doulevant answered for them both and exchanged a few more friendly words with the farmer before they parted. Cassie felt the hot flush of embarrassment on her cheek and it was all she could do to respond to their cheerful farewell with a nod of acknowledgement.
* * *
‘It is fortunate I refused their hospitality,’ he remarked, misinterpreting her silence. ‘A farmer’s hovel would not suit your ladyship.’
‘You are mistaken,’ she retorted. ‘A bed and a good meal would be very welcome, since I suspect the alternative will be a night spent out of doors. But you were very right to refuse. I would like to get to Reims with all haste.’
‘Certainly. We cannot get there too soon for my liking!’
‘Good. Let us ride through the night, then,’ Cassie suggested, rattled.
They rode and walked by turns until the last of the daylight faded away. Cassie was fighting to stay awake, but nothing would make her admit it. She was the daughter of a marquess, granddaughter of an Arrandale and it was beneath her to show weakness of any sort.
Thick clouds rolled in from the west, obscuring the sky and plunging the world into almost complete darkness. When the bay stumbled for the third time she heard Raoul Doulevant curse softly under his breath.
‘This is sheer foolishness, monsieur,’ she told him. ‘We should stop until the cloud lifts.’
‘That would delay our journey; I was hoping to make a few more miles yet.’
‘If the horse breaks a leg that will delay us even more,’ Cassie pointed out.
When he did not reply she admitted, albeit reluctantly, that she would like to rest. Immediately he drew the horse to a halt and helped Cassie to dismount. Without ceremony he took her arm and guided her and the horse from the near darkness of the road into the blackness of the trees.
‘Stay here, madame, while I see to the horse.’
Cassie slumped down against the base of a tree. Stay here, he had said. Did he think she would run away? She had no idea where she was, or which way she should go. She recalled how she had complained that she could not sleep in the carriage. What luxury that seemed now, compared to her present predicament. Not only must she sleep out of doors, but in the company of a stranger. The fact that they had introduced themselves made no difference; she knew nothing of this man.
She listened to the rustle of leaves as Raoul Doulevant secured the horse before coming to sit down beside her. She felt his presence rather than saw him and his silence unnerved her. She tried to recall what he had told her of himself.
‘So you are a sailor, monsieur?’
‘I was ship’s surgeon on the Prométhée for six years.’
‘Really?’
She could not keep the surprise from her voice and he gave a short laugh.
‘My clothes tell the different story, no? I was obliged to...er...acquire these to escape detection.’
‘If you were being pursued, then clearly that did not work.’
‘No. There is one, Valerin, who is very determined to catch me.’
‘He holds a grudge against you, perhaps?’
‘I stopped him from forcing himself upon my sister. I should have killed him, instead of leaving him alive to denounce me.’
Cassie shivered. The words were quietly spoken, but there was no mistaking the menace in them.
‘Where is your sister now?’
‘I sent her to Brussels. We still have friends there. She is safe.’
‘No doubt she is anxious for you to join her.’
‘Perhaps. Her last letter said she had met an old friend, a wealthy merchant who is now a widower. I think they will make a match of it. Who knows, they may already be married. She is a widow and does not need to wait for my blessing.’
It was the most he had said to her all day and his tone was perfectly polite so she pushed aside her animosity.
‘All the same, monsieur, it is good of you to delay your journey for me.’
When he did not reply she wondered if he was regretting his decision.
‘Try to sleep,’ he said at last. ‘I will wake you if the light improves enough to move on.’
‘Will you not sleep, too?’
The black shape shifted, as if he had drawn up his knees and was hugging them.
‘No.’
Cassie was too exhausted to wonder at his stamina or to fight off her low spirits. Eloping with Gerald Witney had been shocking enough, but she was very much afraid that her friends and family would be even more shocked if they could see her now, alone under the stars with a strange man. She sighed as she curled up on the ground. There was nothing to be done and she was quite desperate for sleep, so she made herself as comfortable as she could and closed her eyes.
* * *
Raoul sank his chin on his knees and gazed at the unremitting darkness. The track was well-nigh invisible now. They had been right to stop, he acknowledged, but he wished it had not been necessary. The sooner he was relieved of this woman’s presence the better. He travelled best alone, he did not want the responsibility of a foreign female, especially an arrogant Englishwoman. She could find her own way from Reims. After all, Bonaparte had no quarrel with women, she could hire a carriage to take her to the coast. Raoul closed his mind to the fact that she had been duped once by an unscrupulous courier. He had problems enough of his own to think of. He glanced up, although the darkness was so complete it was impossible to see where the trees ended and the sky began. There was no sign that the cloud would lift any time soon, so eventually he laid himself down on the ground, knowing he would be wise to rest.
* * *
Dawn broke, but not a glimmer of sun disturbed the uniform grey of the sky. Raoul put his hand on Lady Cassandra’s shoulder to rouse her. He could feel the bones, fine and delicate as a bird beneath his hand. But she was not that delicate. He remembered how she had brought her attacker down with the tree branch. He could not deny this aristo had spirit.
He shook her gently. ‘We must be moving.’
She stirred, smiling as if in the grip of some pleasant dream, and he thought suddenly that she really was very pretty, with her clear skin and a heart-shaped face framed by hair the colour of polished mahogany. Her straight little nose drew his eye to the soft curves of her lips and he was just wondering how it would feel to kiss her when she woke up and looked at him.
It was the first time he had looked into her eyes. They were a clear violet-blue, set beneath curving dark brows and fringed with thick, long lashes. He watched the violet darken to near black with fear and alarm when she saw him. He removed his hand from her shoulder, but the guarded look remained as she sat up. When she stretched he could not help but notice how the buttons of her jacket strained across her breast.
Raoul shifted his gaze, only to note that her skirts had ridden up a little to expose the dainty feet in their boots of half-jean. Something stirred within him, unbidden, unwelcome. He jumped up and strode off to fetch the horse. This was no time for lustful thoughts, especially for an English aristo.
* * *
Cassie scrambled to her feet and shook out her skirts before putting a hand to her hair, pushing the pins in as best she could without the aid of a mirror. She must look almost as dishevelled as her companion, but it could not be helped. He brought the horse alongside and held out his hand to her. As he pulled her up before him she marvelled again at his strength, at how secure she felt sitting up before him. She could not deny there was some comfort in being pressed close to that unwashed but decidedly male body. There was power in every line of him, in the muscular thighs beneath her and the strong arms that held her firmly in place. When she leaned against him, his chest was reassuringly solid at her back. Gerald had never made her feel this safe. Immediately she felt a wave of guilt for the thought and it was mixed with alarm. Raoul Doulevant was, after all, a stranger.
* * *
It was not cold, but the lack of wind allowed the mist to linger and the low cloud seemed to press on the treetops as they rode through the silent morning. Cassie’s stomach rumbled, reminding her that she had not eaten since yesterday.
‘There’s a village ahead,’ said Raoul presently. ‘We should find a tavern there.’ He drew the horse to a halt. ‘It might be best if you give me a few coins before we get there. It would not do for you to be waving a fat purse before these people.’
‘I do not have a fat purse,’ she objected. Cautiously she reached into her skirts to the pocket and drew out a small stockinette purse. She counted out some coins and handed them to Raoul, who put them in his own pocket.
‘Thank you. Now, when we get there, you had best let me take care of everything. You speak French charmingly, milady, but your accent would give you away.’
Cassie kept her lips firmly pressed together. He intended no compliment, she was sure of that. She contented herself with an angry look, but his smile and the glint of amusement in his eyes only made her more furious. If they had not been riding into the village at that moment she would have given him a sharp set-down for teasing her so.
* * *
The village boasted a sizable inn. When they had dismounted Raoul handed the reins to the waiting ostler and escorted Cassie into the dark interior. It took a few moments for Cassie’s eyes to adjust to the gloom, then she saw that the room was set out with benches and tables, but was mercifully empty of customers. A pot-bellied tapster approached them, wiping his hands on a greasy apron. Raoul ordered wine and food and their host invited them to sit down.
‘Been travelling long?’ asked the tapster as he banged a jug of wine on the table before them. Raoul grunted.
‘Takin’ my sister home,’ he said. ‘She’s been serving as maid to one of the English ladies in Verdun.’
‘Ah.’ The tapster sniffed. ‘Damned English have taken over the town, I hear.’
Raoul poured a glass of wine and held it out for Cassie, his eyes warning her to keep silent.
‘Aye,’ he said cheerfully. ‘But they are generous masters, only look at the smart habit my sister now possesses! And their English gold is filling French coffers, so who are we to complain?’
‘You are right there, my friend.’ The tapster cackled, revealing a mouth full of broken and blackened teeth. He slapped Raoul on the shoulder and wandered off to fetch their food.
* * *
Cassie could hardly contain her indignation as she listened to this interchange.
‘Sister?’ she hissed in a furious undertone, as soon as they were alone. ‘How can that man think we are related?’
His grin only increased her fury.
‘Very easily,’ he said. ‘Have you looked at yourself recently, milady? Your gown is crumpled and your hair is a tangle. I am almost ashamed to own you.’
‘At least I do not look like a bear!’ she threw at him.
Cassandra regretted the unladylike outburst immediately. She chewed her lip, knowing she would have to apologise.
‘I beg your pardon,’ she said at last and through clenched teeth. ‘I should be grateful for your escort.’
‘You should indeed,’ he growled. ‘You need not fear, madame. As soon as we reach Reims I shall relieve you of my boorish presence.’
He broke off as the tapster appeared and put down two plates in front of them.
‘There, monsieur. A hearty meal for you both. None of your roast beef here.’
Raoul gave a bark of laughter. ‘No, we leave such barbarities to the enemy.’
Grinning, the tapster waddled away.
‘Is that how you think of me?’ muttered Cassie. ‘As your enemy?’
‘I have told you, I am not French.’
‘But you served in their navy.’
He met her gaze, his eyes hard and unsmiling.
‘I have no reason to think well of the English. Let us say no more of it.’
‘But—’
‘Eat your food, madame, before I put you across my knee and thrash you like a spoiled brat.’
Cassie looked away, unsettled and convinced he might well carry out his threat.
The food was grey and unappetising, some sort of stew that had probably been in the pot for days, but it was hot and tasted better than it looked. Cassie knew she must eat to keep up her strength, but she was not sorry when they were finished and could be on their way.
* * *
Raoul Doulevant’s good humour returned once they were mounted. He tossed a coin to the ostler and set off out of the village at a steady walk.
‘The tapster says Reims is about a day’s ride from here,’ he told Cassie. ‘We might even make it before nightfall.’
‘I am only sorry he did not know where we could buy or hire another horse,’ she remarked, still smarting from their earlier exchange.
‘You do not like travelling in my arms, milady?’
‘No, I do not.’
‘You could always walk.’
‘If you were a gentleman you would walk.’
She felt his laugh rumble against her back.
‘Clearly I am no gentleman, then.’
Incensed, she turned towards him, intending to say something cutting, but when she looked into those dark eyes her breath caught in her throat. He was teasing her again. Laughter gleamed in his eyes and her traitorous body was responding. She was tingling with excitement in a way she remembered from those early days following her come-out, when she had been carefree and had flirted outrageously with many a handsome gentleman. Now she wanted to laugh back at Raoul, to tease him in return. Even worse, she found herself wondering what it would be like if he kissed her. The thought frightened her. In her present situation she dare not risk becoming too friendly with this stranger. Quickly she turned away again.
* * *
Raoul closed his eyes and exhaled a long, slow breath, thankful that the lady was now staring fixedly ahead, her little nose in the air as she tried to ignore him. What was he about, teasing her in such a way? There was something about the lady that brought out the rake in him and made him want to flirt with her, even though he knew it would be much more sensible to keep his distance. He had no time for women, other than the most casual liaisons, and instinct told him that involvement with Lady Cassandra Witney would be anything but casual.
He glanced at the lady as she rode before him. His arms were on either side, holding her firm while his hands gripped the reins. The bay was a sturdy animal and did not object to the extra weight and Raoul had to admit it was not excessive. She was petite, slender as a reed. He was almost afraid to hold her too close in case he crushed her. She was trying hard not to touch him, but sometimes the movement of the horse sent her back against him and those dark curls would tangle with his beard and he would catch a faint, elusive scent of summer flowers. Confound it, he was enjoying himself! He could not deny that having her sitting up before him made the journey much more pleasurable.
* * *
It soon became clear that the tapster’s estimate of the journey time was very optimistic. With only the long-tailed bay to ride progress was slow and in the hot September sun Raoul was reluctant to push the horse to more than a walking pace. He was glad when their road took them through dense woodland; that at least provided some welcome shade. The lady before him said very little. Perhaps she was still cross with him for teasing her, but he did not mind her reticence, for he was not fond of inconsequential chattering.
Raoul judged they had only an hour or so of daylight left and was beginning to consider where they would spend the night when the horse’s ears pricked. Raoul heard it, too, the jingling sounds of harness and male voices from around the bend ahead of them. Lots of voices. Quickly he dragged on the reins and urged the horse into the shelter of the trees.
Their sudden departure from the road shook his companion out of her reverie. She asked him what was happening and he answered her briefly.
‘It may be nothing, but I think there may be soldiers ahead of us.’
* * *
Cassie’s heart thudded with anxiety as they pushed deeper between the trees. It was bad enough that she had no papers to prove her identity, but she was also travelling with a fugitive. She could imagine all too well what would happen if they were caught. The ground had been rising since they left the road, but now it began to climb steeply and they stopped to dismount. In silence they moved deeper into the woods until they were out of sight of the road and the raucous voices had faded to a faint, occasional shout.
‘Stay here,’ muttered Raoul, tethering the horse. ‘I will go back and see what they are about.’
‘I shall come with you.’
‘You will be safer here.’
‘Oh, no.’ She caught his sleeve. ‘You are not leaving me alone.’
He frowned and looked as if he was about to argue, then he changed his mind.
‘Very well. Come with me, but quietly.’
He took her hand and led her back through the bushes, following the sound of the voices. At last he stopped, pulling Cassie closer and binding her to him as they peered through the thick foliage. She could see splashes of colour through the trees, mainly blue, but touches of red and the glint of sunlight on metal. The air was redolent with woodsmoke.
‘They are making camp for the night,’ breathed Raoul.
‘What shall we do? Can we circle around them and back to the road?’
He shook his head. ‘We have no idea how many of them there are. They may be the first of several units, or there may be stragglers. We must give them a very wide berth. We need to move deeper into the woods, too, in case they come foraging for firewood.’
It was at that inopportune moment, with French soldiers dangerously close, that Cassie discovered she did not wish to go anywhere. Raoul still had his arm about her waist and despite his rough and dirty clothes her body was happy to lean into him. She was disturbingly aware of that powerful figure, tense and ready to act. Growing up, she had always been impatient of convention and had craved excitement and danger. Instinct told her this man was both exciting and dangerous. A heady combination, she thought as he led her away. And one she would be wise to keep at bay.
They retrieved the horse and set off into the woods. Raoul was no longer holding her and Cassie had to fight down the temptation to grab his hand. She was perfectly capable of walking unaided and she told herself it was useful to have both hands free to draw her skirts away from encroaching twigs and branches. It was impossible to ride, the trees were too thick and their low branches were barely above the saddle. They walked for what seemed like hours. Cassie was bone-weary but stubborn pride kept her silent. As the sun went down it grew much colder and the thought of spending another night in the open was quite daunting.
It was almost dark when they saw before them a small house in a clearing. An old woman appeared at the door and Cassie stopped, knowing the deep shadows of the trees would hide them. She almost gasped with shock and surprise when Raoul put his arm about her waist and walked her forward into the clearing.
‘Come along, madame, let us see if we can find a little charity here.’ He raised his voice: ‘Good evening to you, Mother. Could you spare a little supper for two weary travellers? We were taking a short cut and lost our way.’
The old woman looked at them with incurious eyes until he jingled the coins in his pocket. She jerked her head, as if inviting them in.
‘I have salt herring I can fry for you and a little bread.’
‘That would suit us very well, Mother, thank you.’
They followed her into the cottage. Raoul’s arm was still about Cassie and he was smiling, but she knew he was alert, ready to fight if danger threatened. A single oil lamp burned inside and by its fragile light Cassie could see the house was very small, a single square room with an earth floor and a straw mattress in one corner. Cassie guessed the old woman lived here alone. A sluggish fire smoked in the hearth, but it was sufficient to warm the small space and Cassie sank down on to a rickety bench placed against one wall. The old woman gestured to Raoul to sit down with Cassie while she prepared their meal.
Cassie was exhausted. Raoul’s shoulder was so temptingly close and she leaned her head against it, watching through half-closed eyes as the woman poked the fire into life and added more wood. Soon the pungent smell of the fish filled the room. Cassie’s eyes began to smart and she closed them, but then it was too much trouble to open them again and she dozed until Raoul gave her a little nudge.
‘Wake up now. You must eat something.’
Sleepily Cassie sat up to find a small table had been pushed in front of them and it was set now with plates and horn cups. They dined on salt herring and bread, but when the old woman offered them some of her white brandy Raoul refused, politely but firmly.
‘Would it be so very bad?’ Cassie murmured when their hostess went off to fetch them some water.
‘Very likely,’ he replied, ‘but even if it is drinkable, to take it with the herring would give you a raging thirst.’
She accepted this without comment. She did not like the fish very much, but the bread was fresh and Cassie made a good meal. When it was finished the old woman cleared everything away. Raoul took a few coins out of his pocket and held them out.
‘Thank you, Mother, for your hospitality. There is double this if you will let us sleep on your floor tonight.’
The old crone’s eyes gleamed. ‘Double it again and I’ll let ye have the paillasse.’
Cassie glanced from the woman to the bed in the corner and could barely suppress a shudder at the thought of what might be crawling amongst the straw. To her relief Raoul did not hesitate to decline her offer.
‘We would not take your cot, Mother, nor your covers. We shall be comfortable enough before the fire.’
She shrugged and took the coins from his palm.
‘As you please.’
The old woman banked up the fire and cleared a space before it, even going so far as to find a threadbare rug to put on the ground. Raoul went outside to attend to the horse and the old woman gave Cassie a toothless smile.
‘You’ve got yourself a good man there, madame.’
‘What? Oh—oh, yes.’ Cassie nodded. She was too tired to try and explain that they were not married.
* * *
When Raoul returned the old woman blew out the lamp and retired to her bed with her flask of brandy, leaving her guests to fend for themselves before the fire. There was no privacy and they both lay down fully dressed on the old rug. Raoul stretched out on his back and linked his hands behind his head.
‘Do not fret,’ he murmured. ‘I shall not touch you.’
Cassie did not deign to reply to his teasing tone. She curled up on her side with her back to Raoul. She was nearest the fire and glad of the heat from the dying embers, but she could not relax. She was far too on edge, aware of Raoul’s body so close to her own. He was so big, and rough and...male. Gerald had been more of a gamester than a sportsman. He had been fastidious about his dress and she had never seen him with more than a slight shadow of stubble on his face. That is what she had loved about him; he had always looked like the perfect gentleman. She stirred, uncomfortable with the thought that he had not always acted like a gentleman.
Not that it mattered now, Gerald was dead and she would have to make her own way in the world. Sleepily she wondered why she had not told Raoul she was a widow. After all, it could make no difference to him, since as far as he was aware her husband was still in Verdun. But some deep, unfathomable instinct told her Raoul Doulevant was an honourable man. Now her hands came together and she fingered the plain wedding band. It was little enough protection, but it was all she had.
Cassie lay still, tense and alert until she heard Raoul snoring gently. The old woman had told them it was a full day’s walk from here to Reims, so by tomorrow they would be in the city and she could be rid of her ragged companion. She closed her eyes. The sooner dawn came the better.
* * *
Cassie stirred. She was still lying on her side, facing the fire which had died down to a faint glow, and the room was in almost total darkness. She reached down to make sure the skirts of her riding habit were tucked around her feet, but she could feel the chill of the night air through the sleeves of her jacket. She tried rubbing her arms, but that did not help much. She sighed.
‘What is the matter?’ Raoul’s voice was no more than a sleepy whisper in the darkness.
‘I am cold.’
He shifted closer, curving his body around hers and putting his arm over her. The effect was startling. Heat spread quickly through her body and with it a sizzling excitement. It did not matter that Raoul was dressed in rough homespun clothes, or that his ragged beard tickled her neck, her pulse leapt erratically as he curled himself about her.
‘Is that better?’
Cassie swallowed. She could not reply, her throat had dried, her breasts strained against the confines of her jacket. She was wrapped in the arms of a man, a stranger. Even worse, she wanted him to kiss and caress her. Heavens she should move away, immediately! But somehow she could not make her body obey, and the idea of lying cold and alone for the remainder of the night was not at all appealing. It was confusing, to feel so secure, yet so vulnerable, all at the same time.
Raoul’s arm tightened, pulling them closer together. So close she could feel his breath on her cheek, feel his body close against hers. She should protest, she should object strongly to being held in this way, but she was so warm now, so comfortable. The initial burning excitement had settled into a sense of wellbeing. She had never felt so safe before, or so warm. She felt a smile spreading out from her very core.
‘Oh, yes,’ she murmured sleepily. ‘Oh, yes, that is much better.’
* * *
Raoul lay very still, listening to Cassie’s gentle, regular breathing. It was taking all his willpower not to nuzzle closer and nibble the delightful shell-like ear, to keep his hands from seeking out the swell of her breasts. He uttered up a fervent prayer of thanks that the thick folds of her skirts prevented her knowing just how aroused he was to have her lying with him in this way.
He had been too long without a woman. How else could he explain the heat that shot through him whenever they touched? Even when she looked at him he was aware of a connection, as if they had known each other for ever. Fanciful rubbish, he told himself. She was a spoiled English aristo and he despised such women. By heaven, at eight-and-twenty he was too old to fall for a pair of violet-blue eyes, no matter how much they sparkled. And there was no doubt that Lady Cassandra’s eyes sparkled quite exceptionally, so much so they haunted his dreams, as did the delightful curves of her body. Even now he wanted to explore those curves, to run his fingers over the dipping valley of her waist, the rounded swell of her hips and the equally enchanting breasts that he judged would fit perfectly into his hands.
He closed his eyes. This was nothing short of torture, to keep still while he was wrapped around this woman. He turned his mind to consider how he must look to her, with his dirty clothes and unkempt hair. She must think him a rogue, a vagabond. He was not fit to clean her boots.
And yet here she was, sleeping in his arms.
Chapter Three (#ulink_c018787d-22e6-5ac0-8164-99d6a1205680)
They quit the cottage soon after dawn and followed the narrow track through the woods that the old woman told them would bring them to the highway a few miles to the west of Reims. They rode and walked by turns as the sun moved higher in the clear blue sky, but although Cassandra was cheerful enough her companion was taciturn, even surly, and after travelling a few miles in silence she taxed him with it. They were walking side by side at that point and Cassie decided it would be easier to ask the question now, rather than when they were on horseback. For some inexplicable reason when she was sitting within the circle of his arms it was difficult to think clearly.
She said now, ‘You have scarce said a dozen civil words to me since we set out, monsieur. Have I offended you in some way?’
‘If you must know I did not sleep well.’
‘Oh.’ Something in his tone sent the blood rushing to her cheeks as Cassie realised that she might have been the cause. She had woken at dawn to find they were still curled up together but even more intimately, his cheek resting against her hair and one of those strong, capable hands cradling her breast. It was such a snug fit she thought they might have been made for one another. A preposterous idea, but at the time it had made her want to smile. Now it only made her blush. He had still been sleeping when she had slipped out of his unconscious embrace and she had said nothing about it, hoping he would not remember, but perhaps he had been more aware of how they had slept together than she had first thought.
Cassie closed her eyes as embarrassment and remorse swept over her like a wave. If eloping with Gerald had dented her reputation, what had happened to her since leaving Verdun was like to smash it completely.
Raoul Doulevant cleared his throat.
‘How long have you been in France, milady?’
He was trying to give her thoughts a different turn and she responded gratefully.
‘Just over a year. Gerald and I travelled to Paris last summer, shortly after we were married. The Treaty of Amiens had opened the borders and we joined the fashionable throng. Then, in May this year, the Peace ended.’
‘Ah, yes.’ He nodded. ‘Bonaparte issued instructions that every Englishman between the ages of sixteen and sixty should be detained.’
‘Yes.’
Cassie fell silent, unwilling to admit that she had already been regretting her hasty marriage. She had stayed and supported her husband, even though he had given her little thanks for it after the first anxious weeks of his detention.
‘But now you return to England without him. I had heard the English in Verdun lived very comfortably.’
‘Only if they have money. Our funds were running very low.’
‘Ah. So now your husband’s fortune has gone you have abandoned him.’
‘No!’ She bit her lip. She should correct him, tell him it was her money they had lived on, that she was now a widow, but the words stuck in her throat. Pride would not let her admit how wrong she had been, how foolish. Instead she said haughtily, ‘You have no right to judge me.’
‘Why, because I am not your equal, my lady?’
‘You are impertinent, monsieur. I had expected better manners from a doctor.’
‘But I have told you I am not a doctor. I am a surgeon.’
‘But clearly not a gentleman!’
A heavy silence followed her words, but she would not take them back. An angry frown descended upon Raoul’s countenance, but he did not speak. Cassie kept pace with him, head high, but his refusal to respond flayed her nerves. She tried telling herself that it was better if they did not talk, that it was safer to keep a distance, yet she found the silence unbearable and after a while she threw a question at him.
‘If you are no deserter, why are you being pursued?’
‘That need not concern you.’
Cassie knew his retort was no more than she deserved, after what she had said to him. Her temper had subsided as quickly as it was roused; she knew it was wise to keep a distance from this man, but that did not mean they had to be at odds.
She tried to make amends by saying contritely, ‘I beg your pardon if my words offended you, monsieur, but you must admit, your appearance, your situation... We shall have a miserable journey if we do not discuss something.’
There, she had apologised, but when he said nothing she glanced at his angry countenance and thought ruefully that his pride was equal to hers. They were not suited as travelling companions. Cassie walked on beside him, resigned to the silence, but presently the strained atmosphere between them changed. The black cloud lifted from his brow and he began to speak.
‘A year ago—about the time that you came to France—I quit the navy and went to Paris to live with my sister Margot. She and her husband had taken me in when I had gone there ten years before to study at the Hôtel-Dieu under the great French surgeon, Desault. Margot was widowed three years ago, so by moving into her house I thought I could support her. Unfortunately last winter she caught the eye of a minor official in Paris, one Valerin. Margo did not welcome his attentions and I told him so. He did not like it.’
‘You were rather rough with him, perhaps,’ she observed sagely.
‘Yes. I came home one night and found him trying to force himself upon Margot. I threw him out of the house and broke his nose into the bargain. That was my mistake. Life became difficult, we were suspected of being enemies of the state, the house was raided several times. It became so bad that a couple of months ago I sent Margot to Brussels. I planned to follow her, once I had wound up my affairs in Paris, but Valerin was too quick for me. He accused me of being a deserter. When I looked for my papers they had gone, taken during one of the house raids, I suppose, and when I applied to the prefect to see the record of my discharge the files were missing.’
‘And could no one vouch for you?’
He shrugged. ‘My old captain, possibly, but he is at sea. A response from him could take months. I thought it best to leave Paris. And just in time. I was still making my preparations when Valerin came with papers for my arrest and I was forced to flee with nothing. He was so intent upon my capture that he sent word to the Paris gates, which is why you find me dressed en paysan and, as you put it, looking like a bear.’
Cassie bit her lip.
‘I should not have said that of you. I am in no position to preach to you now, monsieur.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘I have never been so dirty. What I would give for clean linen!’
‘I fear that will have to wait until we reach Reims, madame.’
* * *
They kept to the woodland paths and avoided the main highways. It made the journey longer, but Raoul was anxious to avoid meeting anyone who might ask for their papers. Their only food was some fruit, wine and bread they purchased from a woodsman’s cottage and at noon they stopped on a ridge, sitting on a fallen tree to eat their frugal meal.
‘Is that Reims ahead of us?’ asked Cassie, pointing to the roofs and spires in the distance.
‘It is. We shall be there before dark, milady.’ He sensed her anxiety and added, ‘I shall see you safe to a priest, or a nunnery, madame, before I leave you.’
‘Thank you.’ She sighed. ‘Travelling alone is very perilous for a lady.’
She was trying to make light of it, but he was not deceived. She was frightened, as well she should be. It was no good to tell himself she was not his responsibility, Raoul’s conscience told him otherwise. He made an attempt to stifle it, saying harshly, ‘You should have thought of that before you left your husband.’
He glanced down at her and saw that she was close to tears. The urge to take her in his arms was so great that he clenched his fists and pressed them into his thighs. He searched for something to say.
‘Why did you elope with him?’
One dainty hand fluttered.
‘He was handsome and charming, and he swept me off my feet. Grandmama, who is my guardian, said I was too young, but I thought I knew better. When Gerald suggested we should elope I thought it would be a great adventure. I do not expect you to understand, but life in Bath was very...tame. Oh, there were parties and balls and lots of friends, but it was not enough. I wanted excitement. Gerald offered me that.’
‘No doubt being in an enemy country and detained at Verdun has given you a surfeit of excitement.’
She frowned a little, considering.
‘One would have thought so, but do you know, it was not so very different from Bath. There are so many English people there and they are determined to carry on very much as they always do. There are parties and assemblies, race meetings and gambling dens, everyone finding silly or frivolous entertainments to fill the time. In truth it is a very a foolish way to live. To be perfectly honest, I was bored.’
Raoul watched her. She had clearly forgotten to whom she was talking, there was no reserve as the words poured forth and when she turned her head and smiled up at him, completely natural and unaffected, it shook him to the core. He had the very disturbing sensation of his whole world tilting. The ground beneath him turned to quicksand and it threatened to consume him. It was not that she was trying to attract him, quite the opposite. Her look was trusting and friendly, and it cut through his defences like a sword through paper.
He dragged his eyes away. He needed to repair his defences, to put up the barriers again.
* * *
Cassie sucked in a ragged breath, unsure what had just happened to her. In telling Raoul about her elopement she had opened her soul to him in a way she had never done with anyone before. Even when she had thought herself hopelessly in love with Gerald she had never felt such a connection as she did with this dark stranger. It frightened her.
He rose, saying gruffly, ‘We should go, we still have several hours travelling to reach Reims.’
Cassie nodded and followed him towards the horse. His voice was perfectly composed. He had not commented, displayed no emotion at what she had told him. No doubt he thought her an idle, frivolous woman, worthy only of contempt. When he sprang into the saddle and put his hand out to her she glanced up at his face, an anxious frown creasing her brow.
‘No doubt you think me a silly creature. Contemptible.’
The black eyes gave nothing away.
‘What I think of you is unimportant,’ he said shortly. ‘Come, let us press on.’
* * *
The afternoon grew warmer as they made their way towards Reims and the bay’s walking pace slowed to an amble. The city was lost to sight as they descended into a wooded valley where the air was warm and filled with the trill of birdsong. It was enchanting, reminding Cassie of hot summer days in England, but much as she wanted to share her thoughts with her companion she held back, knowing she must keep a proper distance. She had already told him far too much and feared she had earned his disapproval. Her spirit flared in momentary rebellion. Well, let him disapprove, it did not matter to her in the least.
When at last they dismounted she was thankful that the rough path was wide enough to walk with the horse between them. There must be no accidental brushing of the hands and heaven forbid that he should be gentleman enough to offer her his arm, for she would have to refuse and that might give rise to offence. How difficult it was to maintain propriety in this wilderness! The heat in the valley was oppressive and the sun beat down upon her bare head. She sighed, regretting the loss of her bonnet.
‘Are you tired, milady?’
‘No, merely hot and a little uncomfortable.’ She unfastened the neck button of her shirt. Even that was an indiscretion, she knew, but a very minor one, considering her situation.
‘Would you like to rest in the shade for a while?’
‘Thank you, but I would prefer to keep going and reach Reims. Perhaps there we can find some clean clothes.’ She could not help adding, ‘For both of us.’
His breath hissed out. ‘Does my dirty raiment offend you, milady?’
‘No more than my own,’ she replied honestly. ‘We are both in need of a good bath. I suppose it cannot be helped when one is travelling.’
He came to a halt.
‘An answer may be at hand,’ he said. ‘Listen.’
‘What is it? I cannot—’
But he was already pushing his way through the thick bushes. Cassie followed and soon heard the sound of rushing water. It grew louder, but they had gone some way from the path before they reached the source of the noise. Cassie gave a little gasp of pure pleasure.
They were on the edge of a natural pool. It was fed by a stream tumbling down the steep cliff on the far side and the midday sun glinted on the falling water, turning the spray into a glistening rainbow.
‘Oh, how beautiful!’
‘Not only beautiful, milady, but convenient. We can bathe here.’
‘What? Oh, no, I mean—’
Cassie broke off, but her blushes only deepened when Raoul gave her a scornful look.
‘You have warm air and clean water here, madame, I cannot conjure an army of servants for you, too. I am going to make the most of what nature has given us. I suggest you do, too.’
He tethered the horse and began to strip off his clothes, throwing his shirt into the pool to wash it. Cassie knelt on the bank and dipped her hands into the water. It was crystal clear and deliciously cool against her skin. From the corner of her eye she saw that Raoul had now discarded all his clothes. She looked away quickly, but not before she had noted the lean athletic body. How wrong she had been to describe him as a bear, she thought distractedly. There was only a shadowing of hair on his limbs with a thicker covering on his chest, like a shield that tapered down towards...
Oh, heavens! She must not even think of that.
She heard the splash as he dived into the pool and only then did she risk looking up again. Raoul was a strong swimmer, sending diamond droplets flying up as he surged through the water and away from her. For a moment she envied him his freedom before berating herself as a ninny. He had said she should make use of what he had termed nature’s gift and she would. The pool was large enough to keep out of each other’s way. There were several large bushes at the edge of the water and she moved behind one of them to divest herself of her riding habit. She shook out the jacket and the full skirts and draped them over the bush where they could air in the sunshine, then she followed Raoul’s example and tossed her shirt into the water. Once she had removed her corset she did the same with her shift, then she knelt at the side of the pool and washed the fine garments as best she could before wringing them out and hanging them over another convenient shrub. The sun was so high and strong she thought they would both be quite dry by the time she had bathed herself.
The pool was shallower in the secluded spot she had chosen and the cold on her hot skin made her gasp as she stepped in. Cautiously she walked away from the bank until the water was just over waist deep and she lowered herself until only her head was above the surface. Now her body was submerged she felt more comfortable. She moved into slightly deeper water and closed her eyes, feeling the heat of the sun on her face. Her body felt weightless, rocking with the gentle movement of the water, cleansing, relaxing.
‘There, do you not feel better?’
Cassie gave a little scream. Raoul was only feet away from her, his wet hair plastered to his head and his eyes gleaming with laughter.
‘G-go away, if you please,’ Cassie ordered him, praying the sun glinting on the surface of the water would prevent him from seeing her naked body. ‘Pray, go and wash your clothes, sir, and let me be private.’
‘I came to tell you I have been standing beneath the waterfall,’ he said, ignoring her request. ‘It is refreshing, I think you will like it.’
‘No, thank you.’
‘Why not? I will stay here, if you wish to be alone.’
‘I want to be alone here,’ she said, trying to keep her voice calm. The amusement in his eyes deepened and she glared at him. ‘Go away. I wish to dress. Now.’
‘But your linen cannot be dry yet.’
‘That is my concern, not yours.’
‘It is not far to swim across to the waterfall. You would feel better for the exercise.’
‘Most definitely I should not.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘You cannot swim.’ When she did not reply he reached out to her. ‘Let me teach you.’
‘No!’ The word came out as a squeak. ‘You c-cannot teach me.’
‘It is very easy.’
She shook her head, backing away a little, towards the bank, but having to crouch down in the shallower water.
There was a splash as he pushed himself upright.
‘Look, it is not so very deep, you could walk across, if you wished.’
Cassie was looking. Her eyes were fixed on those broad shoulders and that muscled chest glistening in the sunlight. Thankfully the rest of his body was still submerged.
‘Come.’ He held his hand out to her. ‘I want you to stand beneath the waterfall and tell me if it is not the most invigorating sensation you have ever experienced.’
It was madness. She should dress immediately, but a glance at the bank showed her that her shirt and her shift were still too damp to wear. She could sit here in the shallows while the sun baked the skin on her face to the colour of a biscuit or she could go with Raoul into the shade beneath the waterfall.
No, it was not to be contemplated, but already her hand was going out to his and she was edging out of the shallows. As the water came up over her shoulders she felt its power rocking her off her feet. Raoul’s grip tightened.
‘Do not worry,’ he said. ‘I will hold you.’
It surprised Cassie just how safe she felt with her hand held so firmly in his warm grasp.
‘Did you learn to swim in the navy?’ she asked in an effort not to think about his naked body, just an arm’s reach away from her own.
‘No. My father taught me.’
‘I would imagine it is a useful accomplishment for a ship’s surgeon.’
‘It is not difficult, you should try it. Even dogs can swim.’
‘I am not a dog, monsieur!’
‘No, I can see that.’
Cassie set her lips firmly together and suppressed an angry retort. If it wasn’t for the fact that they had reached the middle of the pool and the water was so deep that she was forced to stand on tiptoe, she might have moved away, but she needed his support. She maintained a stern silence and kept him at arm’s length as they moved forward. Cassie was also leaning away from her partner and she was reminded of seeing Grandmama performing a stately minuet. The thought made her want to giggle and she wondered what the marchioness would think if she could see her granddaughter now, naked as a babe and in the company of a strange man.
Raoul was guiding her to one side of the waterfall, where there was a gap between the sheer cliff and the falling water. Soon she began to feel the spray on her face, a fine mist that cooled her heated skin, but she did not have much chance to enjoy it, for an incautious step found nothing but water beneath her foot and she plunged beneath the surface. Panic engulfed Cassie before Raoul’s strong arms caught her up.
‘It’s all right, you are safe now, I have you.’
She grabbed his shoulders, coughing, and as he pulled her close her legs came up and wrapped themselves about his waist.
‘My apologies, milady,’ he muttered, his voice unsteady. ‘I had not noticed that the pool floor was so uneven here. I will carry you the rest of the way.’
She clung on, no longer concerned that they were naked, all that mattered was that she was safe in his arms. Her face was hidden against his neck, the salty taste of his skin was on her mouth. Whenever she breathed in she was aware of the faint musky scent of him. The sound of rushing water was loud and constant, but she could also hear Raoul’s ragged breathing and felt his heart hammering against her breast as he moved slowly, step by step, through the water. At last he stopped.
‘You can stand down now, madame. It is not so deep. Trust me.’
Trust him? She had no choice. It had been sheer madness to come so far from the bank, to put herself at the mercy of a man she did not know. She swallowed. How could she claim not to know Raoul Doulevant, when their naked bodies had been entwined so intimately? Even now his hands were moving to her waist, supporting her, giving her confidence. Keeping her head buried against him, Cassie unwrapped her legs from his body. Gingerly she reached down to find firm, smooth rock beneath her feet. She stepped away from Raoul, but could not bring herself to release his hand as she gazed around. It was much darker here and she looked up to see that they were standing behind a curtain of water that cast a greenish hue over everything. Without the sun to warm her, Cassie realised that the parts of her body above the water were tensed against the cold. She glanced down, noting with relief that her hair was hanging down and concealing her breasts, then thought wryly that it was a little late for modesty, when moments ago she had been clinging like ivy to her companion. She glanced towards him and gave a little laugh of surprise.
‘Your skin looks green!’
Raoul glanced at her.
‘And you look like a mermaid.’
‘Oh? You have seen one of those mythical creatures, I suppose.’
He grinned. ‘Hundreds.’
She was laughing up at him. Raoul was inordinately pleased that she shared his delight in this place and it was the most natural thing in the world to lean a little closer and kiss her. He felt a tremor run through her, felt her body yield a little before she regained control and backed away from him, eyes wide and dark. She released his hand, clearly preferring to run the risk of drowning rather than touch him.
‘We, we should go back now, monsieur.’
She would not meet his eyes and Raoul silently cursed himself. What was he about, consorting with this woman? He could not resist flirting with her, but she was not for him. Yet his body told him differently, it had known it from the first time he had pulled her into his arms and ridden away with her. Now it remembered every step he had taken with her in his arms, every moment of her warm flesh pressed against his, arousing him and sending the hot blood pounding through his veins and making him dizzy. Enough of such madness. He did not want her naked body in his arms again, she was too tempting. The instant and powerful arousal when she had flung her legs about him had almost toppled them both beneath the water. Yet she had felt as fragile as a bird when he held her close, her heart beating erratically against his chest, rousing in him a protectiveness that he really did not wish to feel for any Englishwoman. He must get them both back to the far bank without further embarrassing the lady. He set his jaw. That would not be easy when her naked form was so temptingly close. The apprehension in her face told him that she, too, was wondering how they would get back.
He turned away from her.
‘Put your hands on my shoulders and let your body float up behind you. If you relax you will find it easier.’
Obediently she placed her hands on his shoulders. Briefly he covered her fingers with his own.
‘Hold tight now.’
* * *
Cassie was gripping as tightly as she could, feeling the knotted muscle moving beneath her hands as he used his arms to help pull them through the water. Her body was still vibrating from his kiss, her blood felt hot and she wondered what would have happened if they had not been standing up to their shoulders in the cold water. She thought it might then have been much more difficult to pull away from him, to remember the dangers of her situation. Even now she was not safe; she could not make it back across the pool without his help. She knew she must keep her body away from that broad back and not pull herself close and allow her breasts to rest against him, which was what some wild and wanton part of her wanted to do. She kept her body straight, pushing her legs up towards the surface of the water and keeping her eyes fixed on the tendrils of dark hair curling at the nape of Raoul’s neck. At first it took all her energy to concentrate, but gradually she managed to relax a little and discovered it required less effort. She was floating out behind him and where her back broke the surface she could feel the heat of the sun on her skin. Her grip on Raoul’s strong shoulders eased, she tried a few tentative kicks with her legs and heard a chuckle.
‘A few more trips across the pool and I think you might be swimming, milady.’
Quite unaccountably, his words pleased her, but she managed not to give herself away when she responded. ‘No, I thank you.’ They had almost reached the bank and her feet sank to the pool’s floor. ‘I can manage from here. If you will leave me I will dress myself.’
‘Are you sure you would not like me to help you with your corset?’
She gritted her teeth. Really, he was quite infuriating.
‘I will manage,’ she told him. ‘Pray, go and dress yourself, monsieur. Over there, out of my sight.’
Grinning, Raoul swam away. Milady was back, as haughty and commanding as ever, but when he had climbed out of the water and was pulling on his shirt he heard a faint but unmistakable sound coming from the other side of those concealing bushes. Lady Cassandra was singing.
When at last she emerged from the bushes she was fully dressed and she had removed the pins from her hair, letting the thick, dark tresses spread around her shoulders while they dried. She looked better, he thought. Less tired and her eyes were brighter. She looked beautiful. A sudden, exultant trill of birdsong filled the air, like a fanfare for the lady.
Scowling, Raoul turned away and busied himself checking the girth on the saddle. This was no time for such fanciful ideas. Resolutely he kept his eyes from her until he was mounted on the horse.
‘Well, madame, shall we continue?’
He put out his hand. She sprang nimbly up, but from the way she held herself, tense and stiff before him, he knew that she, too, was trying to avoid touching him more than necessary.
* * *
Raoul pushed the bay to a canter and they covered the rest of the journey to Reims in good time. The sun was low in the sky when they reached the main highway and dismounted for a final time to rest the horse before they rode into the city. They had hardly spoken since leaving the pool, both caught up in their own thoughts, but as he waited for her to pin up her hair again he noted the frown creasing her brow.
‘What is in your mind, madame?’
‘How far is it from Reims to Le Havre?’
He shrugged. ‘Three days, perhaps, to Rouen, then another two to Le Havre. Or you may be in luck and find a ship in Rouen that will take you to the coast. You might even find one to take you all the way to England.’
‘But France is at war with England, will that not make it more difficult?’
Raoul shrugged. ‘Difficult, but not impossible, if you have money.’
Le Havre could be bustling with troops. Dangerous enough for him, but a pretty young woman, travelling alone, would have to be very careful. He glanced at her. She had finished pinning up her hair, but even so she looked remarkably youthful. An unscrupulous man might take advantage of her. He might steal her money, thought Raoul. Or worse. He remembered when he had first seen her, about to be attacked by the courier and his accomplice. She had been prepared to fight, but without his help she might not escape so lightly next time.
‘If you will help me to reach the coast and find a ship to take me home, I will pay you.’
The words came out in a rush and she fell silent after, keeping her eyes fixed on the distant horizon as if afraid to look at him.
Why not? Raoul asked himself. Because she is English and an aristocrat. Everything you despise. Everything you have cause to hate.
He glanced at the lady, noticed how tightly her hands were clasped together as she waited for his answer. She was also a woman and for all her bravado she was vulnerable and alone and it was not in his nature to turn his back on a defenceless creature.
He would prefer to travel to Brussels, but he had to admit that without money to pay his way any journey would be difficult. And once they reached a port he might well be able to find a ship to take him north along the coast.
‘How much?’
She shook her head.
‘I cannot say. I will pay for a carriage from Reims and our lodgings on the way and after that I need to find a ship to carry me home. I do not know how much all that will cost. However, if you will trust me, I will give you whatever I can spare, once I have booked my passage to England.’
Well, whichever way he went there was danger, but Raoul could not deny that the going would be easier if he had money.
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I will help you.’
She smiled, visibly relieved.
‘Good.’ She put out her hand. ‘In England our tradesmen shake hands on a bargain. We will do the same, if you please.’
His brows went up, but after a brief hesitation he took her hand. Once they had shaken solemnly he did not let go, but carried her hand to his lips.
‘Now I consider our bargain sealed, milady.’
He might have been holding a wild bird, the way her fingers fluttered within his grasp. Desire reared up again and he wanted to pull her into his arms. A shadow of alarm crossed her face. Had she read his mind? Perhaps she, too, was recalling that moment in the pool when she had wrapped herself about him, their warm bodies melding together in the cold water. Had she felt that tug of attraction?
‘Yes, very well.’ She pulled her hand free and turned away from him, saying briskly, ‘If we are going to travel together, then the first thing is to find you a decent set of clothes, and a razor. You are a disgrace. I cannot have my servant dressed in rags.’
His lip curled. There was his answer. That was what she thought of him.
‘So, madame, I am to be your servant?’
The look she gave him would have frozen the sun.
‘Of course. I am the daughter of a marquess and—’
He broke in angrily. ‘I do not acknowledge that your birth gives you superiority over me.’
* * *
Cassie had been about to confess that it would not be easy for her to imitate the behaviour of a servant. She had intended it to be self-deprecating, but his retort sent all such thoughts flying and she responded with icy hauteur.
‘I shall be paying you for your services, monsieur, since I have money and you do not.’
She was immediately ashamed of her response. It was ill bred, but his bitter interruption, the assumption that she was so full of conceit as to think herself superior, had angered her. Yet that in itself was wrong. What was it about this man that put her usual sunny nature to flight so easily? She was still pondering the problem when he jumped to his feet.
‘Well, now we have settled our roles in this little charade we should be on our way.’
He held out his hand to her, his face unsmiling, his eyes black and cold. As he pulled her to her feet Cassie bit back the urge to say something conciliatory.
This is how it should be. You do not want to become too close to this man.
He would help her reach England, she would pay him. It was a business arrangement, nothing more.
* * *
When they reached the city gates the road was so crowded and bustling with traders and carriages they were able to slip through without being questioned. The savoury aroma of food emanating from a busy tavern tempted them to stop and dine.
‘What do we do now?’ asked Cassie, when they had finished their meal and were once more on the street, Raoul leading their tired horse. ‘My preference is to find a respectable inn, like the one ahead of us, but...’ she paused and, recalling their recent altercation, she chose her next words carefully ‘...I fear our appearance would cause comment.’
Raoul rubbed his chin. ‘Yours may be explained by an accident to the carriage, but I agree my clothes are not suitable for a manservant. I have a plan, but I will need money, milady.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘What do you intend?’
‘You will go ahead of me, tell them your servant follows. I will find new clothes and join you in an hour.’
Cassie dug a handful of coins from her purse and gave them to him, then she watched him walk away. There was a tiny frisson of anxiety at the thought that he might not return.
‘Well if he does not come back there is nothing I can do about it,’ she told herself as she turned her own steps towards the inn.
Despite her own dishevelled appearance Cassie’s assured manner and generous advance payment secured rooms without difficulty. She requested a jug of hot water and set about repairing the ravages to her hair and her dress. She was only partly successful, but once she had washed her face and hands and re-dressed her hair she felt much more presentable. A servant came in to light the candles and Cassie realised with a start that darkness was falling outside now. Where was Raoul?
She sat down on a chair and folded her hands in her lap, willing herself to be calm. If he had taken the money and gone on his way she could hardly blame him, but she could not help feeling a little betrayed and also very slightly frightened at the thought of being alone.
Her ears caught the thud of quick steps on the stairs and she rose, looking expectantly towards the door, only to stare open-mouthed as a stranger entered the room.
Gone was the rough beard and shaggy, unkempt hair. Gone, too, were the ragged clothes. In fact, the only things about Raoul Doulevant that she recognised were his dark eyes, alight with laughter.
He was, she realised with a shock, devastatingly handsome. His black hair had been cut and brushed back from his brow. His cheeks, free of the heavy black beard, were lean and smooth above the firm jaw. His lips were so finely sculpted that Cassie felt a sensuous shiver run through her just looking at them. He stood tall and straight in a coat of dark-blue wool that stretched over powerful shoulders. The white linen at his throat and wrists accentuated the deep tan of his skin, while his long legs were encased in buckskins and top boots that showed his athletic limbs to advantage. To complete the ensemble he held a pair of tan gloves and a tall hat in hands. He flourished a deep bow and Cassie swallowed, unable to take her eyes off him. The laughter in his eyes deepened.
‘Well, milady, do I have your approval?’
‘Very much so.’ Her voice was nothing more than a croak and she coughed, hoping to clear whatever was blocking her throat. ‘Where did you find such elegant clothes in this little town?’
He grinned. ‘There are ways.’
It was all he would say and she did not press him. On closer inspection it was seen that the coat and breeches were not new and although the boots were highly polished they bore signs of wear. However, Raoul Doulevant presented the picture of a very respectable gentleman and Cassie glanced ruefully at her own clothes.
‘I fear the servant is now more grand than the mistress.’
‘That is a concern,’ agreed Raoul, coming further into the room. ‘When I arrived the landlord took me for your husband.’
‘Oh, heavens.’ She put a hand to her cheek, distracted by memories of standing with him beneath the waterfall. Suddenly her mind was filled with wild thoughts of what it might be like to be married to such a man. She closed her eyes for a moment. It would be disastrous. She had rushed into a marriage once and had suffered the consequences. Falling out of love had been almost too painful to bear. She would not go through that again.
‘Our host appears to be in some confusion over our name, too,’ Raoul continued, unaware of her agitation. ‘I told him we are Madame and Monsieur Duval.’ Her eyes flew open as he continued. ‘I believe, upon reflection, that it would be best if we travel as man and wife.’ He put up his hand to silence her protest. ‘I considered saying we were brother and sister, but although your French is enchanting, milady, you do not speak it like a native.’
‘No, but—’
‘And it would be impossible to pass you off as my servant, you are far too arrogant.’
‘I am not arrogant!’
He continued as if she had not spoken.
‘No, it must be as man and wife. It is settled.’
Cassie took a long and indignant breath, preparing to make a withering retort but he caught her eye and said with quiet deliberation, ‘You asked for my help, milady.’
There was steel in his voice and she knew it would be dangerous to cross him. She doubted he had ever intended to travel as her servant. Well, she had a choice—she could dispense with his escort, and thus break the bargain they had struck, or she could go along with his plan. The infuriating thing was she could not think of a better one.
‘Man and wife in name only,’ she told him imperiously.
‘Even after the...er...intimacies we shared in that shady pool?’
The laughter was back in his eyes, although his voice was perfectly serious. Cassie fought down her temper. He was teasing her, he enjoyed teasing her.
‘We shared nothing but being in the same water,’ was her crushing reply. ‘It was a mistake and will not be repeated.’
‘No, milady.’
‘It should be easy enough to keep a safe distance between us. It is not as if we are in love, after all.’
‘Indeed not.’
‘And in my opinion,’ she continued airily, ‘love is an emotion that is best left to poets and artists. Its importance in real life is grossly exaggerated.’
‘Truly? You believe that?’
He folded his arms and regarded her with amusement. Really, she thought angrily, he was much more at home in these new clothes. He was so assured. So arrogant!
Even as she fumed with indignation he said, grinning, ‘Explain yourself, milady, if you please.’
Very well, she would tell him. Cassie had had plenty of time to ponder on this over the past year. She waved her hand.
‘What passes for love is mere lust on the man’s part. It makes him profess feelings he does not truly feel and engenders a false affection that can never last.’ He was still grinning at her. Cassie said bluntly, ‘Let us say that the man is led by what is in his breeches, not his heart. And for the woman, why, it is nothing more than a foolish infatuation that fades quickly once she becomes better acquainted with her swain. Marital bliss and heavenly unions are not to be had by mere mortals. I am right,’ she insisted, when he had the audacity to laugh at her. ‘I have been—am married, after all. I know what goes on between a man and a woman. It is not as special as the poets would have us believe.’
‘If you think that, milady, it occurs to me that your husband is not an expert lover.’
Her brows rose. ‘And you are, perhaps?’
‘I have had no complaints.’
She met his dark, laughing eyes and for one panic-stricken moment she feared he meant to offer a demonstration of his prowess. She said hastily, ‘This is a most improper discussion. Let us say no more about it.’
‘Very well. But I fear my next news will not please you. Our host sends a thousand pardons to milady, but the servant’s room is not available.’ He patted his pocket. ‘He has refunded your payment for it.’
Cassie’s eyes narrowed and, as if reading her mind Raoul put up his hands.
‘This is no plan of mine, I assure you. The prefect has bespoke the room for a visitor and the landlord dare not refuse him. We must think ourselves fortunate he did not throw us out on the streets.’
Cassie was in no mood to consider anything but the fact that she must now share a room with this insufferable man. She dragged two of the blankets from the bed and handed them to him.
‘Then you will sleep on the floor!’
With that she threw a couple of pillows on to the chair, climbed up on the bed and pulled the curtains shut around her.
Cassie sat in the dark, straining her ears for every sound from the room. She was half-afraid Raoul might tear open the curtains and demand to share the bed. She remained fully dressed and tense, listening to him moving about the room, and it was not until she heard the steady sound of his breathing that she finally struggled out of her riding habit and slipped beneath the covers.
* * *
Raoul scowled at the blankets in his hand. By the saints, how would he make himself comfortable with these? But honesty compelled him to admit it was no more than he deserved. It was his teasing that had angered her, but for the life of him he could not help it. He had seen the flash in her eyes when he walked in. It had been a look of admiration, nay, attraction, and it had set his pulse racing. He had been determined to treat her as an employer, to convey the landlord’s news dispassionately and then they might have discussed the sleeping arrangements like two sensible adults. Instead he had given in to the temptation to bring that sparkle back to her eyes. He grinned at the memory. Even now part of him could not regret it, she looked magnificent when she was roused, a mixture of arrogance and innocence that was irresistible. With a sigh be began to spread the blankets on the floor. And these was his deserts. Well, he would make the most of it. He had slept in worse places.
* * *
Cassie had no idea of the time when she woke, until she peeped out through the curtains to find the sun streaming into the bedchamber. Cautiously she pushed back the hangings. The room was empty, the blankets and pillows on the floor showing her where Raoul had slept, but there was no sign of the man himself. Cassie slipped off the bed and dressed quickly, but a strange emptiness filled her as she wondered if Raoul had left for good. Perhaps, when he had realised she would not succumb to his advances he had decided to go his own way. The thought was strangely depressing and she could not prevent hope leaping in her breast when she heard someone outside the door, nor could she stop her smile of relief when Raoul strode into the room, a couple of large packages beneath one arm and a rather battered bandbox dangling from his hand. His brows rose when he saw her.
‘I hardly expected such a warm welcome, milady.’
‘I thought you had gone,’ she confessed.
‘And break our bargain? I am not such a rogue.’ He handed her the parcels. ‘I had a little money left from yesterday, plus the reimbursement from the landlord, and I decided to see if I could find something suitable to augment your wardrobe. There is also a trunk following; to travel without baggage is to invite curiosity, is it not?’
She barely acknowledged his last words, for she was busy opening the first of the packages. It contained a selection of items for Cassie’s comfort including a brush and comb and a new chemise. The second was a round gown of yellow muslin with a matching shawl.
‘Oh,’ she said, holding up the gown. ‘Th-thank you.’
‘I had to guess your size, but it is fastened by tapes and should fit you. And there is this.’ He put the bandbox on the table and lifted out a straw bonnet. ‘The fine weather looks set to continue and I thought this might be suitable.’
‘Oh,’ she said again. ‘I—thank you. I am very grateful.’
‘I cannot have my wife dressed in rags. My wife in name only,’ he added quickly. ‘Although after last night we must make sure we demand a truckle bed for the maid.’
‘But we do not have a maid.’
‘We shall say she is following on and then complain that she has not turned up. At least then I shall have a cot to sleep in.’
‘You seem to have thought of everything, monsieur.’
‘I spent a damned uncomfortable night considering the matter,’ he retorted. ‘Now, madame, shall we go downstairs and break our fast?’
Chapter Four (#ulink_342b6505-1daa-575a-9ac9-eaa41f87c8dd)
The lure of a fresh gown was too tempting to resist. Cassandra begged Raoul to wait for her downstairs and twenty minutes later she joined him in the dining room dressed in her new yellow muslin. She saw his eyes widen with appreciation and was woman enough to feel pleased about it. They were alone in the room at that moment and as Raoul held the chair for her Cassie murmured her thanks again.
‘The gown fits very well, monsieur, and the maid has promised to have my riding habit brushed and packed by the time we are ready to leave.’
‘Good.’ He took his seat opposite and cast an appraising eye over her. ‘The woman in the shop was correct, that colour is perfect for you.’
Cassie looked up, intrigued. ‘How then did you describe me to her?’
‘A petite brunette with the most unusual violet eyes.’
‘Oh.’ Cassie blushed. ‘Th-thank you, monsieur.’
* * *
Raoul berated himself silently. She thought he was complimenting her, but it had not been his intention. It was true he thought her beautiful, but he did not wish her to know that. Confound it, he did not want to admit the fact to himself. He gave his attention to his breakfast. He had told the truth, nothing more.
While she was busy pouring herself a cup of coffee he took another quick glance. There was no denying it, she was beautiful. The lemon gown enhanced her creamy skin and set off the dusky curls that she had brushed until they shone. She had pinned up her hair, accentuating the slender column of her throat and her bare shoulders that rose from the low-cut corsage. His pulse leapt and he quickly returned his gaze to his plate. Strange how the sight should affect him. After all, he had seen her shoulders before, and more, when she had been bathing in the lake. But something was different. He looked up again. Yes, there was a thin gold chain around her neck from which was suspended an oval locket set with a single ruby. But it was not the jewel that held his attention, it was the fact that the ornament rested low on her neck, directing the eye to the shadowed valley of her breasts.
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Sarah Mallory
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: ‘IT SEEMED SUCH AN ADVENTURE TO ELOPE…’Lady Cassandra Witney once left behind everything she knew for love. Now, widowed, disillusioned and stranded in France, all she wants is to return to England, beg forgiveness of her family and forget about men for ever!But Cassie’s resolve never to fall for a man again is tested when fugitive Raoul Doulevant offers to escort her on her journey. Infuriating he may be, but he’s also honourable, brave and dangerously attractive! Perhaps Raoul can give this runaway the home she’s been yearning for…The Infamous ArrandalesScandal is their destiny!