Книга - Regency Rogues: Rakes’ Redemption: Return of the Runaway (The Infamous Arrandales) / The Outcast’s Redemption (The Infamous Arrandales)

Regency Rogues: Rakes' Redemption: Return of the Runaway (The Infamous Arrandales) / The Outcast's Redemption (The Infamous Arrandales)
Sarah Mallory


Scandal is their Destiny Return of the Runaway Stranded in France, Lady Cassandra Witney needs help to return to England. When fugitive Raoul Doulevant offers to escort her home, she soon sees this rogue is also honourable, brave and dangerously attractive… The Outcast’s Redemption Needing to prove his innocence of a terrible crime, Wolfgang Arrandale is forced to live as a fugitive. But Grace Duncombe, is intrigued by the wild stranger. It’s clear Wolf hides many secrets, but she’s drawn to him like no other. And soon she must defend this honourable outcast whatever the cost!







Regency Rogues

August 2019

Outrageous Scandal

September 2019

Rakes’ Redemption

October 2019

Wicked Seduction

November 2019

A Winter’s Night

December 2019

Unlacing the Forbidden

January 2020

Stolen Sins

February 2020

Candlelight Confessions

March 2020

Rescued by Temptation

April 2020

Wives Wanted

May 2020

Disgraceful Secrets

June 2020

Talk of the Ton

July 2020

Exotic Affairs


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, including the Romantic Novelists’ Association RoNA Rose Award in 2012 (for The Dangerous Lord Darrington) and 2013 (for Beneath the Major’s Scars).


Regency Rogues: Rakes’ Redemption

Return of the Runaway

The Outcast’s Redemption

Sarah Mallory






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ISBN: 978-1-474-09723-9

REGENCY ROGUES: RAKES’ REDEMPTION

Return of the Runaway © 2016 Sarah Mallory The Outcast’s Redemption © 2016 Sarah Mallory

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




Note to Readers (#ulink_9c6b4a04-b0a5-5a6e-8454-7063e7818c73)


This ebook contains the following accessibility features which, if supported by your device, can be accessed via your ereader/accessibility settings:



Change of font size and line height

Change of background and font colours

Change of font

Change justification

Text to speech





Table of Contents


Cover (#ua831ef03-a722-5f39-acf0-55bd1a56bc9a)

About the Author (#ua2366595-80ff-5eb8-bcfc-7826806cbfc7)

Title Page (#u4688213c-cce8-5379-a76a-7cb686dd4f50)

Copyright (#u61ed052f-6b26-5d90-bedf-df5ce029bc14)

Note to Readers (#u95120e7a-6ffb-508a-82a5-821134c1bfd7)

Return of the Runaway (#ud64898d6-f23c-5cfd-af6a-85d7042662d2)

Dedication (#u8844a327-7409-5b4c-a878-f8debbf01452)

Chapter One (#uf39dbbf4-9a9a-5873-aca5-948d16136caa)

Chapter Two (#ud7eb2863-f970-5776-b6e4-27d48ea0c315)

Chapter Three (#u8fdda05e-8d76-5be4-877a-d4f67b52a2bb)

Chapter Four (#u4342a200-b629-5116-a422-b012220853e2)

Chapter Five (#u21197197-4283-58b4-98c0-7762dcf8cba6)

Chapter Six (#u0ca134e3-9b21-57bb-9fe2-193bb134e2ca)

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)

The Outcast’s Redemption (#litres_trial_promo)

Dedication (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Two (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

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)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)




Return of the Runaway (#ulink_8f433874-a757-5350-8c8e-64fd605954b0)


Sarah Mallory


To Marianne –

from the proudest mum in the world.




Chapter One (#ulink_1d87c9b6-cc12-501f-9a13-53178966efb9)


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_d82551ae-caf0-53e2-9f6f-0a14f209ae72)


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_d1537dbb-f98d-55fc-87b8-aebda264cdc5)


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_c3f50658-8e55-56e2-a22f-330c9e0aed7b)


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.

‘You are staring at me, monsieur. Is something wrong?’

Raoul cleared his throat.

‘I have not seen that trinket before.’

‘The locket?’ She put one hand up to her breast. ‘Until today I have worn it beneath my riding shirt. It is the last of my jewellery. I sold the rest to pay for my journey.’

‘It holds special memories for you, perhaps.’

Her hand closed over it.

‘A portrait of my husband.’

‘Ah. I understand.’






Cassie did not reply, but gave her attention to finishing her breakfast. It was better that he thought she loved her husband. She was now sure enough of his character to know he would not wish to seduce another man’s wife.






They left Reims looking every inch a respectable couple. The trunk was packed and strapped on to the hired chaise, Cassie made herself comfortable inside, and Raoul rode as escort on the long-tailed bay. Their journey continued without incident. Cassie had given Raoul sufficient funds to pay for their board and lodgings, they were civil to one another when they stopped to dine on the road, and Raoul made no demur about sleeping in a dressing room at the wayside inn that provided their lodgings for the night. Their fear of discovery receded, too, for whereas the soldiers at the bridges and gendarmes at the town gates might question a pair of ragged travellers, a wealthy gentleman and his wife roused no suspicions and they were waved through without question. However, she agreed with Raoul that they should take a more circuitous route and avoid the main highway, which was constantly busy with soldiers. Their journey was going well. Raoul was very different from Merimon, her first, rascally escort, and she knew she was fortunate that he was such an honourable man.

Cassie wondered why, then, she should feel so discontented. Her eyes moved to the window and to the figure of Raoul, mounted upon the long tailed bay. She wanted him. She wanted him to hold her, to make love to her.

Shocking. Reprehensible. Frightening. She had already admitted to herself that eloping had been a mistake. How much more of a mistake to allow herself to develop a tendre for a man like Raoul Doulevant? A man whom she would not see again once she returned to England. Besides, it was nothing more than lust, she knew that. They were constantly at odds with one another and had he not told her himself he had no cause to like the English? Reluctantly she shifted her gaze away from him. No, much better to keep her distance, it would be madness to allow the undoubted attraction between them to take hold. If only she could forget what had happened in the lake, forget his kiss, the way it felt to have her naked body pressed close to his, the heat that had flowed between them despite the cool water.

She gave herself a little shake. The strong yearning she felt was because she was lonely. The last few months with Gerald had been very unhappy. She had no close friends in Verdun and loyalty had kept her from confiding her problems to anyone. Once she was back in England, living with Grandmama, taking up her old life again, she would be able to put from her mind her time in France. She smoothed out the skirts of her yellow muslin and tried to smother the quiet voice that told her Raoul Doulevant would not be easy to forget.






It was some time past noon and they were passing over a particularly uneven section of road when there was a sudden splintering crash and the carriage shuddered to a halt, lurching drunkenly into the ditch. Cassie was thrown from her seat and was lying dazed against the side of the carriage that now appeared to be the floor when the door above her opened. She heard Raoul’s voice, sharp with concern.

‘Are you hurt?’

Cassie moved cautiously.

‘I do not think so.’

He reached down to her. She grasped his hand and he lifted her out of the chaise and on to the ground. She found she was shaking and clung to Raoul for a moment until her legs would once more support her.

‘What happened?’ she asked him.

‘One of the wheels is broken,’ said Raoul, adding bitterly, ‘It is no surprise when you look at the state of the road. We should be thankful the windows did not shatter.’

‘Ah, well, you see, now the aristos are gone there’s no one to pay for the upkeep.’

They looked around to find a burly individual standing behind them. The man jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

‘The great house back there. When the family was in residence they paid handsomely to maintain this road in good condition for all their fine friends. Since they’ve gone...’ he shrugged ‘...no one around here cares to repair it for others to use.’

‘Who are you?’ Raoul asked him. ‘Do you live at the chateau?’

‘No, but I farm the land hereabouts and live in the grounds with my wife. Looking after the place, you might say.’

Cassie glanced through the trees towards the large house in the distance. The once-grand building looked decidedly sorry for itself, windows broken and shutters hanging off.

‘Then you are not looking after it very well,’ said Raoul, giving voice to Cassie’s thoughts.

‘Ah, good monsieur, I am but a humble farmer. The damage occurred when the family left.’ He spat on the ground. ‘They are either dead or fled abroad and I have neither the money nor authority to repair it. I merely keep an eye on it, so to speak.’

‘Enough,’ said Raoul. ‘It is not our concern. We need to get this chaise repaired, and quickly.’

The man lifted his cap and scratched his head.

‘The nearest wheelwright is back the way you came.’

‘I was afraid of that,’ Raoul muttered. ‘Even if we were riding we would be hard pressed to get back there by nightfall. Is there an inn nearby and perhaps a chaise that we might hire?’

The man spread his hands and shrugged. ‘Monsieur, I am desolated, but I have only a tumbril. The nearest inn is back in the town.’ He brightened. ‘But all is not lost. I can provide you with shelter for the night.’

Cassie looked to Raoul, but he had gone to help the postilion free the horses from the overturned chaise. Only when they were securely tethered to a tree did he return. The postilion was beside him and it was clear they had been considering the situation.

‘I think the best thing is for the post boy to take my horse and ride back to the town,’ said Raoul. ‘Tomorrow he can bring a new wheel and help to repair the chaise. In the meantime we need to stable the carriage horses.’

‘Well, the stables were burned out some years ago, but you can put them in the barn,’ replied the farmer genially. ‘And in the morning I have a team of oxen that we might use to pull the carriage out of the ditch. For a price, of course.’

‘Yes, well, we will come to that once the postilion has returned.’

Raoul issued a few brief instructions and the post boy scrambled up on to the bay. Cassie watched him trot away and turned back to where Raoul and the farmer were discussing the next problem.

‘We require a room for the night. You say you can accommodate us, how much will you charge?’

‘Ah, monsieur, my own house is small and my wife’s aged mother is bedridden, so I have no bedchamber I can offer for you. But do not despair, you and your lady are welcome to sleep in the barn.’

‘The barn!’ exclaimed Cassie.

‘But, yes, madame. It is a very good barn. The roof is sound and there is plenty of room for you and the horses. The animals keep it warm and there is plenty of clean straw.’

An indignant protest rose to Cassie’s lips, but Raoul put a warning hand on her shoulder.

‘Let us get the horses into shelter first,’ he said. ‘Then we will discuss our accommodation.’

Silently Cassie accompanied the two men as they led the horses off the road and through the gap in the hedge into the remains of the chateau’s formal gardens. The wide gravelled paths were so overgrown with weeds they were difficult to discern from the flowerbeds, and what had once been parterres and manicured lawns were now grazed by cattle. As they approached the house itself she could see it was in a very sorry state, the stucco was peeling, tiles had shifted on the roof and weeds flourished on the surrounding terrace. Cassie could not help exclaiming at the sight.

‘How sad to see such a fine house in ruins.’

‘There are many such places in France now, madame.’ The farmer grinned at her. ‘But it is empty and you are free to sleep there, if it’s more to your taste than my barn over there.’

The farmer indicated a collection of large buildings set back and to one side of the main house. Cassie guessed they had once been outhouses and servants’ quarters. What looked like the stable block was no more than a burned-out shell, but the other buildings and a small house beside it were now the farmer’s domain. He led the way to one of the large barns. The sweet smell of straw was overlaid with the stronger tang of cattle. Cassie quickly pulled out her handkerchief and held it over her nose. It did not surprise her that the carriage horses objected to being led inside, but with a little persuasion and encouragement from Raoul they were eventually stabled securely at one end of the great building, as far away as possible from the farmer’s oxen.

‘You see,’ declared their host, looking about him proudly, ‘there is plenty of room. So where would you like to sleep, here or in yonder palace?’

Cassie sent Raoul a beseeching look and prayed he would understand her.

Raoul grinned. ‘We’ll bed down in the chateau, my friend.’ He winked and gave the farmer’s arm a playful punch. ‘My wife has always considered herself a fine lady.’

The man shrugged. ‘It will cost you the same.’ He added, as Raoul counted out the money on to his palm, ‘You’ll find it pretty bare, monsieur, but ’tis weatherproof, mostly. I’ll bring your dinner in an hour, as well as candles and clean straw for your bed.’

Raoul added an extra coin. ‘Can you have our trunk brought in, too? I would not want it left at the roadside overnight.’

‘With pleasure, monsieur. My boy shall help me with it as soon as I’ve told the wife to prepare dinner for you.’

The farmer went off, gazing with satisfaction at the money in his hand.






‘We might perhaps have argued for a lower price,’ observed Raoul, ‘but I suspect the fellow will serve us well in the hope of earning himself a little extra before we leave here tomorrow.’ He turned to Cassie. ‘Shall we go and inspect our quarters?’

He held out his arm and she placed her fingers on his sleeve.

‘I am relieved that I do not have to sleep with the animals,’ she confessed.

‘I could see that the idea did not appeal. However, I doubt the chateau will be much better. I expect everything of value has been removed.’

‘We shall see.’

Her optimistic tone cheered him. He had expected an angry demand that they should go on to find an inn and was fully prepared to ask her just how she thought they were to get there with no saddle horse. There was also the trunk to be considered; having purchased it he did not think she would wish to leave it behind. But instead of being discontented the lady appeared sanguine, even eager to explore the chateau. They went up the steps to the terrace and carefully pulled open one of the long windows. The glass had shattered and it scrunched beneath their feet as they stepped into a large, high-ceilinged salon. A few pieces of broken furniture were strewn over the marble floor, the decorative plasterwork of the fireplace was smashed and there were signs in one corner that someone had tried to set light to the building. He heard Cassie sigh.

‘Oh, this is so sad, to think of the family driven out of their home.’

‘It was no more than they deserved, if they oppressed those dependent upon them.’

‘But you do not know that they did,’ she reasoned. ‘In England we heard many tales of innocent families being forced to flee for their lives.’

‘What else would you expect them to say? They would hardly admit that they lived in luxury while people were starving.’

‘No doubt you believe it was right to send so many men and women to the guillotine, merely because of their birth.’

‘Of course not. But I do not believe a man’s birth gives him the right to rule others. Aristocrats like yourself are brought up to believe you belong to a superior race and the English are the very worst!’

Cassie smiled. ‘You will not expect me to agree with you on that, monsieur.’ She looked around her once again. ‘But while I admit there are good and bad people in the world, I cannot believe that all France’s great families were bad landlords. Some will have fled because there was no reasoning with a powerful mob.’

‘But before that the king and his court were too powerful, and would not listen to reason,’ Raoul argued.

‘Perhaps.’ She walked to the centre of the room and turned around slowly, looking about her. ‘I grew up in rooms very like this. A large, cold mansion, far too big to be comfortable. I much prefer Grandmama’s house in Royal Crescent. That is in Bath,’ she explained.

‘I have heard of it,’ he said. ‘It has the hot baths, does it not?’

‘Yes. Many elderly and sick people go there to take the waters.’ Her eyes twinkled. ‘And many wealthy people who think they are sick enjoy living there, too, and pay high prices for dubious treatments. The doctors of Bath have grown fat giving out pills and placebos to the rich and privileged. It is not as fashionable as it once was, but it is still very pleasant with its concerts, and balls and the theatre, and all one’s friends in such close proximity. I lived there very happily with Grandmama until...’

‘Until you met your husband?’

‘Yes. I have not seen Bath for nearly eighteen months.’

‘You must have had the very great love to elope with this man,’ he said. ‘To give up your family and friends, everything you knew.’

He saw a shadow flicker across her eyes before she turned away from him.

‘Yes.’






Cassie hurried across the room, giving Raoul no time to question her further. A very great love? It had been a very great foolishness. She had ignored Grandmama’s warnings and thrown her cap over the windmill. She had been in love with Gerald then. Or at least, she had thought herself in love, but the last few months had brought her nothing but pain and disillusion. She had learned that love could not make one happy, it was merely a device used by men to delude poor, foolish females. She had witnessed it often enough in Verdun, especially amongst Gerald’s friends. A gentleman would profess himself hopelessly in love, then as soon as he had seduced the object of his affection the passion would fade and he would move on to another lover. A salutary lesson and one she would never forget.

Pushing aside the unwelcome thoughts, Cassie grasped the handles of the double doors and threw them wide, drawing in a sharp breath at the sight of the once-magnificent ballroom before her. ‘Oh, how wonderful it must have been to dance in a room such as this!’

She wandered into the cavernous space. The walls were pale primrose with huge blocks of darker yellow where large paintings had once hung. Between the windows were gilded mirror frames, the glass shattered and glittering on the floor. At each end of the room four Italian-marble pillars rose up and supported a ceiling that was decorated with a glorious scene of cherubs playing hide-and-seek amongst white clouds.

‘Oh, how I loved to dance,’ she murmured wistfully. ‘Grandmama took me to so many assemblies in Bath and it is one of the things I have missed most since my marriage. Gerald never took me to balls.’

A wave of unhappiness washed over her, so suddenly that it took her by surprise. She pressed her clasped hands to her chest and was obliged to bite her lip to hold back a sob. It had been a shock to discover so recently that her husband had escorted plenty of other ladies to balls in Verdun. She was a fool to let it upset her now. Gerald could never resist a pretty woman. In the end that had been his downfall.






Raoul watched as sadness clouded her face and suddenly he was overwhelmed with the need to drive the unhappiness from her eyes. He stepped closer, saying recklessly,

‘Then let us dance now.’

She frowned at him. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘I say we should dance.’

She laughed as he plucked the shawl from her shoulders and tossed it aside.

‘But we have no music, monsieur.’

‘I will sing for us.’ He took her hand. ‘What shall it be, the Allemande?’

He started to hum a lively tune and bowed. Cassie looked a little bemused, but she followed his lead, singing along quietly as she twisted beneath his arm and stretched up to let him turn beneath hers. By the time they performed the rosette, holding both hands and twirling at the same time, she was giggling too much to sing. Raoul persevered, leading her through the dance steps again. He felt inordinately pleased that he had put that troubled look to flight and as they skipped and stepped and twirled about his imagination took flight.

They were no longer dancing in a derelict house, but in a glittering ballroom with the most accomplished musicians playing for them. The music soared in his head and he imagined them both dressed in their finery. He could almost feel the shirt of finest linen against his skin, the starched folds of the neckcloth with a single diamond nestling at his throat. And instead of that poor yellow muslin, Cassie was wearing a ball gown of silk with diamonds glittering against her skin, although nothing could outshine the glow of her eyes as she looked up at him. When they performed the final rosette and ended, hands locked, she was laughing up at Raoul in a way that made his heart leap into his throat, stopping his breath.

Time stopped, too, as their eyes met. Raoul had felt this same connection between them before, but this time it was stronger, like a thread drawing them together. He watched the laughter die from those violet-blue eyes, replaced by a softer, warmer look that melted his heart and set his pulse racing even faster. His heart was pounding so hard that he felt light-headed and quite unsteady. His grip on her hands tightened. Those cherry-red lips were only inches away, inviting his kiss.






Cassie’s heart was beating so heavily that it was difficult to breathe. Raoul was standing before her, holding her hands, filling her senses. He was all she could see, his ragged breathing the only sound she heard. She was swathed in his powerful presence and it felt wonderful.

Kiss me.

She read it in his eyes. An order, a plea that went straight to her heart and filled her soul. She clung to his hands, trembling. She desperately wanted to close the gap between them and step into his arms, but above the excitement and exhilaration that filled her an alarm bell clamoured, faint but insistent. She knew there would be no going back if she gave in now. Raoul would take her, consume her, and she would be lost. It was a perilous situation; she was a widow, alone in an enemy country.

Strange, that this foolish, impromptu dance had so quickly driven all her troubles from her mind, but now that alarm bell could not be ignored. It was not just the physical perils that threatened her. She had thought Gerald had broken her heart, but now some instinct told her that if she gave herself to Raoul the parting would be much, much worse. That thought frightened her more than all the rest and made her fight for control.

She dragged up a laugh. ‘Well, that has surprised me.’






Clearly not a gentleman!

Those scornful words echoed in Raoul’s brain, reminding him of the gulf between them. He dropped her hands and moved away, allowing his indignation to turn into anger. It was necessary, if he was to combat this attraction that could only end in disaster. He should be pleased she was in no danger of falling in love with him. He had no room for a woman in his life and he would not want her broken heart on his conscience.

‘Yes, you considered me a savage, did you not?’ he threw at her. ‘Because I have not lived in your exalted circles. Whatever you might think of me, madame, my birth is respectable even if I was not born into the nobility. We moved amongst the first families of Brussels. My father was a doctor, a gentleman. It was I who let him down; I was determined to become a surgeon, despite the fact that many still regard them as mere tradesmen.’ He turned his finger, stabbing angrily into the air. ‘That is where the future lies, in a man’s skill and knowledge, not in his birth. But you and your kind do not recognise that yet. My father never recognised it, either. He was disappointed; he had such high hopes of me.’






Cassie saw the fire in his eyes and heard the bitterness behind his harsh words, but she knew his anger was not directed at her. He had misunderstood her, but in his present mood it would be useless to try and explain so she made no attempt to correct him.

She said carefully, ‘Parents are always ambitious for their children. At least, I believe that is the case. My own parents died when I was very young, but Grandmama always wanted the best for me. It must have grieved her most dreadfully when I eloped.’ She touched his arm, saying gently, ‘There must still be a little time before the farmer will bring our dinner. Shall we continue to explore?’

Raoul shrugged.

‘Why not?’ he said lightly. He scooped her shawl from the floor and laid it around her shoulders. She noted how carefully he avoided actually touching her. ‘Lead on, madame.’

The magical moment was broken, shattered like the ornate mirrors and tall windows. She felt the chill of disappointment and tried hard to be thankful that she had not weakened. A momentary lapse now would cost her dear.






The chateau had been stripped bare and they did not linger on the upper floors. Cassie pulled her shawl a little closer around her as the shadows lengthened and the chill of evening set in. She had been a child when the revolution in France had begun, only ten years old when King Louis had been murdered. It had been the talk of English drawing rooms and inevitably the news had reached the schoolroom, too. She had listened to the stories, but only now, standing in this sad shell of a house, did she have any conception of the hate and fear that must have been rife in France. She could only be thankful that such a bloody revolution had not occurred in England.

‘It grows dark,’ said Raoul. ‘We should go down and look out for our host.’

Cassie readily agreed. The stairs were in semi-darkness and when Raoul reached for her hand she did not pull away. She told herself it was merely a precaution, lest she trip in the dim light, but there was no mistaking the comfort she gained from his warm grasp. They heard the farmer’s deep voice bellowing from somewhere in the lower regions of the house and as they reached the hall he emerged from the basement stairs.

‘So there you are,’ he greeted them. ‘We’ve put your dinner in the kitchen and my boy is lighting a fire there now. You’ll find ’tis the most comfortable room, the windows are intact and there’s a table, too.’

They followed him down to the servants’ quarters and through a maze of dark corridors until they reached the kitchen. It was a large chamber, but a cheerful fire burned in the huge fireplace and numerous candles had been placed about the room to provide light. A plump woman with a spotless apron tied over her cambric gown was setting out their dinner on the scrubbed wooden table and the farmer introduced her as his wife. She looked up and fixed her sharp black eyes upon Raoul and Cassie. It was a blatantly curious stare and not a little scornful. Cassie’s head lifted and haughty words rose to her lips, but she fought them down. She had no wish to antagonise the woman, so she smiled and tried to speak pleasantly.

‘It is very good of you to let us stay here tonight.’

The woman relaxed slightly.

‘Eh bien, your money’s good and I suppose you will prefer this to sharing a bedchamber with the animals. The boy’ll be over with a couple of sacks of straw later and he’ll collect the dishes, too.’ She pointed to a small door in the corner of the room. ‘There’s a water pump in the scullery. It still works, if you need it.’

‘Thank you.’

The woman moved towards the door.

‘We will leave you, then.’ She gave a reluctant curtsy and followed her husband out into the dusk.

‘We should eat.’ Raoul indicated the bench.

They sat together and Cassie was relieved that there would be no awkward glances across the table. In fact, there was no need to look at him at all. They were facing the fireplace, where the fire crackled merrily and they could eat their meal in companionable silence. But it was not companionable, it pressed around her, pricking at her conscience and making her uneasy. At last she was unable to bear it any longer and had to speak, however inane her conversation.

‘This is where they would have cooked the food,’ she said at last, keeping her eyes on the dancing flames.

‘Yes.’ Raoul reached across to pick up the wine flask and poured more into their glasses. ‘The turning-spit mechanism and all the cooking irons have been plundered. No doubt they have found a home elsewhere, or been melted down and turned into farm tools.’

Cassie picked up her wine glass and turned it this way and that, so that the crystal glinted and sparkled in the candlelight.

‘These are very fine, perhaps the owners of this house used to drink from them.’

‘And now they are being used by their tenants,’ remarked Raoul coolly. ‘It is merely a redistribution of wealth.’

Her chin went up a little and she turned to regard him. ‘Something you heartily approve.’

Raoul met her eyes steadily. ‘I have never approved of violence, Lady Cassandra. It is my calling to save lives, not take them.’

She turned her gaze back to the fireplace, knowing she did not wish to fight him tonight.

‘So they cooked on an open fire. How old-fashioned,’ she murmured, thinking of the closed range in Grandmama’s house in Bath.

‘There might well have been a dozen or more servants in here,’ Raoul replied. ‘Slaving to provide meals for their masters.’

‘Not necessarily slaving,’ Cassie demurred. ‘In Bath my grandmother was at pains to provide the very best equipment for her cook. She said he is a positive tyrant.’

‘Yet she has the power to dismiss him on a whim.’

Cassie shook her head, smiling a little. ‘You are wrong, sir. The man is very aware of his own worth and paid well for his skills, I assure you. He also is the one with the power to hire or dismiss his staff as he wishes.’ Her smile grew. ‘And before you berate me again for the inequality of English society, I would tell you, monsieur, that the cook is a Frenchman.’

He grinned, acknowledging the hit.

‘Very well, I will admit that it is in most men’s nature to be a tyrant if they are not checked.’ He turned slightly and raised his glass to her. ‘A truce, Lady Cassandra?’

She returned his salute. ‘A truce, Monsieur Doulevant.’

They returned their attention to the food, but the atmosphere had changed. Cassie no longer felt at odds with her companion and she was a great deal happier.

A basket of logs had been placed near the fireplace, but the size of the hearth was such that it was soon emptied and by the time the farmer’s boy brought over their bedding and carried away the empty dishes the room was growing chilly.

‘We should get some sleep,’ said Raoul. ‘We will have another busy day tomorrow.’

There were two sacks of straw. Raoul placed one on either side of the kitchen table and handed Cassie one of the two blankets that had been provided.

‘Your bed awaits, my lady.’






She tried to make herself comfortable, but the sack was not well filled and the straw flattened quickly beneath her. She could not help a sigh that sounded very loud in the quiet, echoing kitchen.

‘Is it not luxurious enough for you, my lady?’

Tiredness made her irritable and she snapped back.

‘This is not what I expected when I left Verdun.’

‘I am surprised your husband agreed to your travelling alone.’

‘He did not agree. He’s—’

She bit off the words.

‘He what?’ Raoul asked suspiciously. ‘He does not know?’

‘That is true.’

It was not exactly a lie. Cassie knew it would sink her even further in his estimation, yet she was unwilling to admit she was a widow. She clung to the belief that there was some small protection in having a husband.

‘But of course. You told me yourself that you grew bored at Verdun. Tiens, I feel even more sympathy for your spouse, madame. You have quite literally abandoned him, have you not?’

The darkness was filled with his disapproval. It cut her and she responded by saying sharply, ‘That is not your concern.’

‘No indeed. Mon Dieu, but you are a heartless woman!’

‘You know nothing about me!’

Tell him, Cassie. Explain how you remained with your husband, endured the pain and humiliation of knowing he only wanted your fortune.

Pride kept her silent. Better Raoul should think her heartless than a fool. She turned on her side and pulled the thin blanket a little closer around her. ‘Oh, how I pray there will be a ship in Rouen that will carry me all the way to England,’ she muttered angrily. ‘The sooner we can say goodbye to one another the better.’

He gave a bark of bitter laughter.

‘Amen to that, my lady!’




Chapter Five (#ulink_6d2e1019-4e00-5a44-b31b-121137490e01)


It took the best part of the morning to repair the chaise. Discussions with the farmer elicited the information that their meandering route, chosen to minimise the chances of encountering soldiers on the road or passing an army garrison, meant that they were a good half-day’s drive away from Rouen and he doubted they would reach the city before nightfall, but Cassie was as anxious as Raoul to press on and echoed his refusal to remain another night.

She climbed into the chaise and watched Raoul scramble up on to the long-tailed bay. She was thankful he was not in the carriage with her, she did not enjoy travelling in the company of one who disapproved of her so blatantly. He saw her as a rich and spoiled lady who had run away from her marriage when the novelty had begun to pall. It would be useless to explain, because she knew that men saw these things differently. A wife was a mere chattel, was she not?

Cassie looked up as the chaise slowed. The road was winding its way between dilapidated cottages at the edge of a village. Through the window she watched Raoul exchange a few words with the postilion before bringing his horse alongside the carriage. Cassie let down the glass.

‘This is Flagey, it is very small and the post boy tells me there is a much better inn about an hour from here where we may change horses and dine,’ he informed her. ‘If we do not tarry he thinks we may still make Rouen tonight.’

‘Very well, let us push on. I—’ Cassie broke off as a loud rumble, like thunder, filled the air. It shook the ground and the carriage jolted as the horses sidled nervously. ‘What on earth was that?’

Raoul was already looking towards the cluster of buildings ahead of them. Above the roofs a cloud of dust was rising, grey as smoke. The bay threw up its head as the church bell began to toll.

‘An accident of some sort,’ he said, kicking his horse on. Cantering around the bend, he saw that a large building had collapsed on the far side of the village square. People were already congregating at the scene. Some of the women were wailing, a few holding crying babies, but most were helping the men to drag away the stones and rubble.

Raoul threw the horse’s reins to a woman with a babe in her arms and immediately ran forward to help, casting his jacket aside as he went.

‘How many men are in there?’ he demanded as he joined the rescuers.

One of the men stopped to drag a grimy sleeve across his brow.

‘Eight, ten, perhaps more. ’Tis the tithe barn. They were working to secure the roof before the winter when the timbers collapsed.’

Raoul joined the group, scrabbling at the wreckage. The dust was still rising from the debris, making everyone cough. It was clear that the roof had collapsed inwards, bringing down parts of the old walls. Muffled shouts and screams could be heard, so there were survivors, but Raoul knew they must reach them and quickly.

The first man they pulled out had a broken arm, but the next was badly crushed and groaning pitifully. An old woman standing beside Raoul crossed herself before trying to drag away another rotted timber. There would be more crushed bodies, more broken limbs.

‘You will need a doctor. Or better still, a surgeon.’

‘Dr Bonnaire is ten miles away, monsieur.’ The old woman took a moment to straighten up, pressing her hand to her back. She nodded to a group of young men working frantically to pull away more stones. ‘Jean can go, he is the fastest runner.’

‘Take the horse.’

Raoul heard Cassandra’s voice and turned to see her leading the bay forward.

She said again, ‘Take the horse. It will be much quicker to ride.’

‘Then let me go,’ said an older man, stepping up. ‘I can handle a horse and Jean’s strength would be better used getting those poor fellows out.’

‘Good idea,’ agreed Raoul.

He watched the man mount up and gallop away, calculating how long it would take the doctor to get there.

‘What can I do?’ asked Cassandra.

‘Where is the carriage?’

‘I have told the post boy to drive to the auberge at the far end of the village. What may I do to help you?’

He regarded her as she stood before him. She was too petite to be of help moving the rubble; her hands were unused to any type of work at all. He was also afraid that they would be bringing bodies out soon and he did not want her to witness the carnage. He looked towards a group of women and children crying noisily as they watched the proceedings.

‘Get them away,’ he muttered. ‘They are doing no good here.’

‘Of course.’

She nodded and Raoul went back to the laborious process of dragging away the rubble stone by stone.

As word of the disaster spread more people turned up to help with the rescue. Raoul left them to finish digging out the survivors while he attended those they had already pulled out of the building. He had not wanted to reveal that he was a medical man, but there was no sign of the doctor and these people needed his help.

After sluicing himself down at the village pump he went to the nearest house, where the injured men had been taken. There were four so far: a quick glance showed him that the man who had been severely crushed would not survive. There was nothing he could do for the fellow so he left him to the care of the local priest while he set the broken arm and patched up the others as best he could. Thankfully they were not seriously hurt, but others were being carried in, each one bringing with him the damp, dusty smell of the collapsed building. He had no instruments and his equipment was limited to the bandages piled on a table, but there was hot water in a kettle hanging over the fire and a large flask of white brandy to ease the suffering of the injured men.






It was growing dark and Raoul was working alone in the little room when he heard the thud of horses and the sudden commotion outside the door. The doctor, at last. He looked up, his relief tempered by surprise when he saw a fresh-faced young man enter the room.

‘You are Dr Bonnaire?’

‘Yes. And you are?’

‘Duval. My wife and I were passing through here when the accident happened.’

‘It was good of you to stay and help.’ Dr Bonnaire looked about him. ‘Are all the men recovered, did everyone survive?’

‘Everyone is accounted for now, nine men in all. Two are dead, four had only slight injuries. I patched them up and sent them home. These three are the most seriously injured.’ He nodded to a man sitting by the fire. ‘I have set his arm, but he has also had a blow to the head and is not yet able to stand.’ He walked over to the two men lying on makeshift beds. ‘These two are the worst. They were both trapped by their legs.’

As Bonnaire knelt beside the first of the men Raoul heard a soft voice behind him.

‘I thought you would need more light.’ Cassandra came in, followed by three of the village women, each one of them carrying lamps and candlesticks. ‘We collected these from the other houses.’

The doctor shot to his feet. ‘How thoughtful of you, Madame...?’

‘Duval,’ she said quietly.

‘Ah...’ he glanced towards Raoul ‘...your wife, sir. Enchanté, madame.’

Raoul saw the faint flush on Cassie’s cheek and knew she was not happy with the subterfuge, but it was necessary.

‘Aye, Madame Duval and her husband arrived most providentially,’ put in one of the other women.

‘Madame Deschamps owns the auberge at the far end of the village,’ explained Cassie. Her eyes flickered over Raoul and away again. ‘She and her husband have offered us a room for the night.’

‘Well, ’tis too late for you to be travelling on now and ’tis the least we can do, for all your trouble.’

‘You are very kind,’ murmured Raoul.

‘Nay, ’tis you and madame that have been kind, monsieur, helping us as you have done.’

Madame Deschamps appeared to be in no hurry to leave, but once the other women had gone Cassie touched her arm and murmured that they must not keep the good doctor from his work. She cast a last, shy glance at Raoul and ushered the landlady from the room. Bonnaire stood gazing at the door and Raoul prompted him gently.

‘Well, Doctor, would you like to examine your patients?’

‘What? Oh, yes. Yes.’

It did not take long. Raoul had already stripped the men of their clothing and cleaned their lacerated bodies. The doctor gently drew back the thin blanket from each of the men and gazed at their lower limbs.

‘Legs crushed beyond repair,’ he observed.

‘Yes.’ Raoul nodded. ‘Both men will require amputation at the knee.’

The young doctor blenched. He placed his case upon the table, saying quietly, ‘I thought that might be the situation and brought my tools.’

He lifted out a canvas roll and opened it out on the table to display an impressive array of instruments, very much like the ones Raoul had lost when he had fled from Paris, only these looked dull and blunt from lack of use.

Raoul frowned. ‘Have you ever performed an amputation, Doctor?’

Bonnaire swallowed and shook his head.

‘I saw one once, in Paris, but I could not afford to finish my training. These tools belonged to my uncle. He was an army surgeon.’

Raoul closed his eyes, his initial relief at finding a medical man on hand rapidly draining away. He sighed.

‘Then you had best let me deal with this.’

‘You? You are a surgeon, Monsieur Duval?’

‘Yes. And I have performed dozens of these operations.’

The relief in the young man’s face was only too apparent. A sudden draught made the candles flicker as the door opened and the priest came in.

‘Ah, Dr Bonnaire, they said you had arrived. Thanks be! A sad business, this. Will the Lord take any more souls this night, think you?’

‘I hope not, Monsieur le Curé,’ was the doctor’s fervent response.

‘Good, good. I came to tell you that you are not to worry about your fee, Doctor. If these poor people have not the means there is silverware in the church that can be sold. You shall not go unrewarded for this night’s work.’

The young doctor bowed.

‘Thank you, but if anyone is to be paid, it should be this man.’ He glanced at Raoul. ‘He is the more experienced surgeon and is going to perform the operations necessary to save these two men.’

‘Is that so indeed?’ declared the priest, his brows rising in surprise.

‘It is,’ said Raoul, grimly inspecting the instruments spread out before him. ‘But to do so I will require these to be sharpened.’

‘But of course, monsieur! Give me the ones you need and I shall see it is done without delay.’

‘And get someone to take this fellow home,’ added Raoul, nodding at the man dozing in the chair by the fire.

‘I will do so, sir, I will do so.’ The priest gathered up the instruments and bustled away, leaving Bonnaire to fix Raoul with a solemn gaze.

‘Thank you, monsieur, and I meant what I said about payment.’

‘I do not want the church’s silverware, but you should take it, Bonnaire, and when this night is done you should use it to go back to Paris and finish your training.’






They set to work, preparing the room and arranging all the lamps and candles to provide the best light around the sturdy table that would be used to carry out the operations. The situation was not ideal, but Raoul had worked in worse conditions during his time at sea. A woman crept in timidly and helped the injured man out of the room just as the priest returned with the sharpened instruments.

‘Thank you.’ Bonnaire took the honed tools and handed them to Raoul. ‘Perhaps, mon père, you could send someone to attend to the lights and the fire while we work.’

‘But of course. I will ask Madame Duval to step in.’

‘No.’ Raoul frowned. ‘She is not used to such work.’

The priest stopped and looked at him in surprise.

‘Really, monsieur? If you say so. Madame Deschamps, of course, is a woman most resourceful, but she is very busy at the auberge.’

‘Well, there must be someone else who can come in,’ said Raoul irritably.

The priest spread his hands.

‘These are simple people, monsieur, uneducated. They are easily frightened and I fear they would be sorely distressed by the sight of their neighbours in such a situation as this.’

‘But my wife...’

Raoul’s words trailed off. What could he say, that his wife was a lady? That she was too cossetted and spoiled to be of any use here?

‘Madame Duval has shown herself to be most resourceful in this tragedy,’ the priest continued. ‘The villagers turned to her in their grief and she did not fail them. While they could only weep and wail she arranged who should go to the fields to fetch the mothers and wives of those who were working in the barn. She helped to feed the children and put them to bed and it was madame who organised the women to prepare this house for you, to boil the water and tear up the clean sheets for bandages. Even now she is helping to cook supper at the auberge for those who are grieving too much to feed themselves or their families.’

‘Practical as well as beautiful,’ remarked Bonnaire. ‘You are to be congratulated on having such a partner, Monsieur Duval.’

Raoul’s jaw clenched hard as he tried to ignore the doctor’s remark. He did not want to be congratulated, did not want to think how fortunate a man would be to have a wife like Lady Cassandra.

He shrugged and capitulated.

‘Very well, let her come in.’

They had tarried long enough and he had work to do.






They lifted the first man on to the table. He and his fellow patient had been given enough brandy to make them drowsy and Raoul worked quickly. He was aware of Cassandra moving silently around the room, building up the fire to keep the water hot, trimming the wicks on the lights and even helping Bonnaire to hold down the patient when necessary. He glanced up at one critical point, fearing she might faint at the gruesome nature of the business, but although she was pale she appeared perfectly composed and obeyed his commands as steadily as the young doctor.

Midnight was long past before the operations were complete and the patients could be left to recover. Raoul felt utterly drained and when Bonnaire offered to sit with them through the night he did not argue. He shrugged on his coat and escorted Cassie to the auberge, where the landlady was waiting up to serve them supper.






Cassie was bone-weary and after all she had seen that evening she had no appetite, but she had eaten very little all day and she sat down opposite Raoul at the table while Madame Deschamps set two full plates before them.

The hot food warmed her and she began to feel better. She reached for her wine glass and looked up to see Raoul watching her.

‘I am sorry we have had to delay our journey, milady.’

‘I am not.’ She continued, a note of wonder in her voice, ‘Truly, I do not regret being here. It has been a difficult day and a sad one, too, but I am pleased I could be of help.’

She took a sip of wine while she considered all that had happened. Raoul had thrown himself into assisting the villagers and she had done the same. The people had been shocked and frightened, unable to think for themselves. They had needed someone to take charge and it had felt like the most natural thing in the world for her to step in, deciding what needed to be done and setting villagers to work. They had not questioned her, instead as the day wore on they had looked to her even more for guidance. She glanced shyly at Raoul.

‘For the first time in my life I think I have done something truly useful.’

Silently he raised his glass to her and, smiling, she gave her attention to her food. They finished their meal in silence and she sat back, watching as Raoul wiped a piece of bread around his plate. He was looking a little less grey and drawn than when they had come in, but she knew how tirelessly he had worked all day.

She said suddenly, ‘You must be exhausted.’

He pushed away his empty plate.

‘It has been a long day, certainly, and I cannot wait to get to my bed.’ He drained his wine. ‘Well, madame, shall we retire?’






Cassie had given little thought to the sleeping arrangements until the landlady showed them upstairs to what was clearly the best bedroom. A large canopied bed filled the centre of the room, its curtains pulled back to display the plump, inviting mattress. It was then that Cassie’s tiredness fled, replaced by a strong sense of unease. She stopped just inside the door and did not move, even when the landlady left them.

‘Ah. There is no truckle bed,’ she muttered. ‘I forgot to mention it.’

‘Then we must share this one.’ Raoul unbuttoned his coat and waistcoat and threw them over a chair.

‘No!’ Cassie was scandalised. To sleep in the open was one thing—even to curl up together on the floor before the fire had not felt this dangerous, after all the old woman had been sleeping in the same room and providing some sort of chaperonage. But to share a bed, to have that strong, lithe body only inches away— ‘Out of the question,’ she said firmly.

Raoul yawned. ‘You need not fear for your virtue, milady, but if you think I will sleep on the floor tonight you are much mistaken.’

She eyed him suspiciously. If her own fatigue could vanish so quickly, she was sure his would, too. She remembered waking on the cottage floor to find his hand cradling her breast. The thought made her grow hot, but not with embarrassment. She began to recognise her own yearning for a man’s touch. She watched in growing alarm as he sat down to pull off his boots.

She said quickly, ‘I know how men use soft words and pretty gestures to seduce a woman, but I am not so easily caught, monsieur.’

‘Confound it, woman, I am not using any soft words,’ he snapped, but Cassie was so on edge she paid no heed.

‘I know ’tis all a sham,’ she continued, in an attempt to quell the flicker of desire that was uncurling inside her. ‘A man must have his way and the result for the woman is always disappointing.’

‘Disappointing, milady?’

With a growl he rose from the chair and came purposefully towards her. It took all Cassie’s willpower not to back away from him. She tensed as he put out his hand and took her chin between his thumb and forefinger.

‘Mayhap you have only had English lovers so far.’

She pulled her chin from his grasp. Her heart was hammering and panic was not far away, because she knew she was ready to fall into his arms at any moment. She started to gabble, trying to convince herself that such an action would be foolish in the extreme.

‘Lovers? The word is too easily used, monsieur. Love rarely comes into it, in my experience. The coupling that ensues is for the man to enjoy and the woman to endure.’

His eyes narrowed and for one fearful moment she thought he might see that as a challenge, but after a brief hesitation he turned away.

‘You might be the famous Pompadour herself and I could not make love to you tonight. I am too tired to argue the point with you now, madame. Sleep where you will, but I am going to bed.’

To Cassie’s dismay he threw himself on to the covers. He could not sleep there! She must reason with him, persuade him to move.

‘I am glad you will not try to woo me with soft words,’ she told him. ‘It will not work with me. Let me remind you I have had a husband.’

‘But not a very good one,’ he muttered, putting his hands behind his head and closing his eyes.

‘Gerald was a very accomplished lover,’ she told him indignantly.

She turned away to place her folded shawl on the trunk. Would he notice she had used the past tense? Suddenly she did not want to lie any more and she exhaled, like a soft sigh.

‘At least, he had any number of mistresses and he told me they were all satisfied with his performance. I confess I never found it very enjoyable, even when I thought I was wildly in love with him.’ She clasped her hands together and stared down at the shawl, as if gaining courage from its cheerful, sunny colours. ‘But perhaps it is wrong of me to say that, now he is no longer alive. You see, monsieur, I did not abandon my husband. I remained at Verdun, at his side, and would be there still, if he had not been killed. I made up my mind that I would not leave him, even though the provocation was very great indeed.’

There. She closed her eyes, feeling a sense of relief that she had at last confessed it. She was a widow and her husband had been unfaithful. Let him sneer at her if he wished.

A gentle snore was the only answer. Cassie turned to see that Raoul was fast asleep. Even a rough shake on the shoulder failed to rouse him. How dare he fall asleep while she was pouring out her heart! She looked at the sleeping figure. At least he was not taking up the whole bed. She blew out most of the candles and sat down on the edge of the bed, her indignation dying away as she regarded him. She reached out and gently brushed a stray lock of dark hair from his brow. He had worked tirelessly today, using all his strength and his skill to help the villagers. He deserved his rest.






Raoul surfaced from a deep sleep and lay still, eyes closed. He felt supremely comfortable, a soft mattress beneath him and a feather pillow under his head. He was still wearing his shirt and breeches but someone had put a blanket over him.

Someone.

Lady Cassandra.

He turned his head, expecting to see her dark curls spread over the pillow next to his, instead he found himself staring at a wall of white.

‘What the—?’ He sat up, frowning at the line of bolsters and pillows that stretched down the middle of the bed. On the far side of this downy barrier was Cassandra, wrapped snugly in a coverlet. He felt a momentary disappointment when he saw that her hair had been tamed into a thick plait.

She stirred, disturbed by his movements.

‘It is called bundling,’ she said sleepily.

‘I beg your pardon?’

She yawned. ‘The feather barricade between us. It is a device that I understand is often used in village courtships in England, so a man and woman could spend time together and find out if they truly liked each other without...committing themselves.’

‘I do not think it would prove much of a deterrent, if the couple were willing.’

She was awake now and eyeing him warily.

‘Well, in this case one of the couple was not willing,’ she told him, throwing back her cover and slipping off the bed.

He saw she was still wearing her stays on top of a chemise that stopped some way above her very shapely ankles.

‘I would consider that contraption of whalebone and strong linen to be a more effective deterrent than a few bolsters, milady.’

‘If you were a gentleman you would not be looking at me.’ She added scornfully, ‘But what else should I expect from a foreigner?’

Raoul picked up one of the bolsters and put it behind him, so he could lean back and watch Cassandra as she walked across to the washstand. He was well rested now and fully appreciative of the picture she presented.

‘So it is only foreigners who look at pretty women? Mon Dieu, Englishmen are not only dull, they must have ice in their veins.’

She turned, clutching the towel before her.

‘Of course they do not. They—’ She stamped her foot. ‘Ooh, you delight in teasing me!’

He grinned. ‘I cannot resist, you bite so easily. By the way, how did you sleep in that corset? It must have been very uncomfortable.’

‘I loosened the laces, naturally. And before you say anything more I do not need your help to tighten them again!’

He laughed and climbed out of bed.

‘No, of course not, milady. I shall tease you no more. We must break our fast and move on. What is the time?’ He looked out of the window. ‘Tiens, it must be noon at least.’

‘It was almost dawn before we went to bed,’ said Cassie. ‘I asked Madame Deschamps not to disturb us.’

She felt her cheeks burn as she remembered the landlady’s knowing wink when she heard the request. When she had eloped she had been subjected to many such looks and rude jibes, too, but then she had thought herself too much in love to care about such things. How she was ever to explain these past few days she did not know. She could only hope that when she returned to England the details of this journey would remain a secret.

Raoul turned from the window.

‘I had best go and see the patients. I hope Dr Bonnaire would have called me, if he needed my help in the night.’ He grabbed his clothes and dressed quickly. ‘We are still a good half-day’s travel from Rouen. We will need to leave soon if we are to get there tonight.’

‘Naturally we must stay here, monsieur, if you are needed.’

He looked a little surprised at her words and nodded as he picked up his hat. ‘I will go now to see how the men are doing.’

With that he was gone. Cassie finished dressing in silence, pushing aside the fleeting regret that Raoul had said he would stop teasing her.






Raoul spent an hour in the house that had become a makeshift hospital and when he returned to the auberge Cassandra was waiting for him at the door. His mood brightened when he saw her, pretty as a picture in her yellow gown, her dark curls brushed and pinned in a shining disorder about her head.

‘Madame Deschamps insisted on cooking for us,’ she greeted him. ‘I have packed everything, and the carriage and your horse are ready to depart as soon we have broken our fast.’

At that moment the landlady herself came bustling out, insisting that they must not leave Flagey until they had eaten a good meal.

‘I have bread and eggs and ham waiting for you, monsieur, and you will have the room to yourselves, you will not be disturbed.’

There was no point in arguing, so Raoul followed Cassie and their landlady into the little dining room.

‘How did you find your patients?’ asked Cassie as they settled down to their meal.

‘The two men we operated on are awake and recovering. It will be slow, but I have hopes that with a little ingenuity they will be able to get around again. Most do and consider themselves fortunate they have only lost a leg and not their life. Bonnaire is happy to look after them now. And I called in on the fellow with the broken arm. His head has cleared, I think he will make a full recovery.’

‘They must all be thankful you were here to help them.’

‘They were. That is why it has taken me so long to get back. Everyone in Flagey wanted to speak to me.’ He grinned. ‘I cannot tell you the number of gifts I have had to decline, but I did not think you would wish to have a basket of eggs or a plucked chicken in the chaise with you, although I was tempted by the flitch of bacon.’

Cassie laughed.

‘These poor people have little enough of their own. It is very generous of them to offer to share it with you. They are clearly very grateful for what you have done.’

‘This is not just for me, milady, your efforts too were much appreciated.’

Cassie blushed. ‘Truly?’

‘Yes, truly.’

Raoul had received nothing but praise this morning for his ‘good lady’. They had told him how she had supported everyone, organising them, comforting those in grief and cajoling the mothers into looking after their little ones. A saint, one man had called her. Raoul looked at her now, remembering how she had helped him during the operations, quietly and calmly doing as she was bid without question. He had expected that she would crumble at the sight of the crushed limbs, that she might cry, or swoon and need to be escorted away, but she had faced everything with a calm determination that surprised him.

And yet had he not seen signs of her resourcefulness even before they reached Flagey? There had been no tears, no tantrums during their time together. She had matched him step for step without complaint. His respect for her was growing.

Cassie was clearly pleased at his praise and he had to fight the urge to smile back at her. He dragged his eyes back to his plate. Heaven defend him from actually liking this woman! He scraped together the last of the ham and eggs.

But she would make a good wife.

Some demon on Raoul’s shoulder whispered the words into his ear, but he closed his mind to them. He was not the marrying sort. He lived for his work. Surgery was his first love and a man could not have two mistresses.

‘Our lack of a servant has not gone unnoticed, however.’ He told her, sitting back in his chair. ‘I have already set it about that you are so demanding no maid will stay with us.’

As he expected, she bristled at that. Her smile disappeared.

‘Me, demanding?’

‘Why, yes. They have experienced your managing ways for themselves. To their benefit in this instance, of course, and once I had explained that you were English they were not at all surprised when I told them you were extremely domineering.’

‘Domineering?’

‘I also said you were a scold.’

‘You did not!’

‘I did. A positive virago.’

She sat up very straight.

‘You are insulting sir.’

‘But truthful, milady. You have all the arrogance of your race. And your class.’

‘Oh, you—you—’ Her knife clattered on to her empty plate. She pushed back her chair and jumped up. ‘I shall wait for you in the chaise!’

Raoul laughed as she stalked out. Best to keep her outraged. That way she was much less likely to end up in his arms.






Darkness had fallen by the time they reached Rouen. They found a small inn near the cathedral and Cassie stood silently beside Raoul while he enquired of the landlord if they had rooms. She waited anxiously, wondering if they would be questioned or asked for their papers but their host showed little curiosity about his guests, merely took their money and summoned a serving maid to show them upstairs.

Cassandra had been icily polite to Raoul on the few occasions they were obliged to speak during the journey and when they sat down to a late dinner in their private rooms she was determined to maintain her frosty manner. Her companion seemed unconcerned and applied himself to his food with gusto, while Cassie only picked at her own meal. Her lack of appetite drew an anxious look from the maid when she came to clear the table and Cassie was obliged to assure her that she found no fault with the inn’s fare. Her smile faded once the servant had quit the room and she allowed her thoughts to return to the matter that had been worrying her all day. She could not forget what Raoul had said of her. It was very dispiriting and surely it could not be true.

‘You are not hungry?’

Raoul’s question cut through her reverie. She shook her head, feeling tears very close.

‘Is something wrong, milady?’

‘Did you mean it, when you said I was arrogant?’

‘Aha, so that still rankles, does it?’

‘Disdain for others is not a trait I admire,’ she said quietly, keeping her eyes lowered. ‘If the villagers thought me conceited yesterday, then I am sorry for it.’

She heard him sigh.

‘No, no, they saw nothing but goodness in you. I said what I did this morning because...’

‘Yes?’ Cassie looked up hopefully.

Perhaps he had not meant it, perhaps he had been teasing and she had been too quick to take offence. He held her gaze for a moment and she was heartened by the sudden warmth in his eyes, but then it was gone. He looked away and she was left wondering if she had seen it at all.

‘Because we needed a convincing reason for not having a servant with us,’ he finished with a slight, contemptuous shrug. ‘Your arrogance comes from your breeding, milady, it is hardly your fault.’

His words hit her like cold water. She had been selfish, yes, and thoughtless in eloping without any concern for the effect upon her grandmother, left alone to face the quizzes of Bath, but she had thought herself truly in love and Gerald had convinced her that they had no choice but to run away, or be parted for ever. Perhaps she had appeared arrogant towards Raoul, but only to keep him at a distance. She found him so dangerously attractive, but after what she had experienced with Gerald she had no intention of complicating her life by falling for the charms of another man. Ever.






Raoul watched Cassandra’s countenance, saw the changing emotions writ clear upon her face. He had intended to make her angry, but his taunts had wounded her, she had not shrugged them off as he had expected. The hurt in her eyes tugged at his conscience, but it also affected him inside, like a giant hand squeezing his heart.

Bah. He was growing soft. The woman was an English aristo. She would take what she needed from him and then cast him aside without a second thought. She did not need his sympathy. He pushed back his chair and rose.

‘It is late and we should sleep,’ he said. ‘As soon as it is light I will go to the docks and see if there is any ship there to take us to Le Havre. Who knows, I might even find a captain who is willing to take you all the way to England.’

‘Yes, that would be the ideal solution and would suit us both,’ she agreed.

Her tone was subdued and Raoul guessed she would be pleased to see the back of him.

Well, milady, the feeling is mutual!

‘At least we have the benefit of two rooms here,’ he remarked. ‘If you will allow me to remove a pillow and blanket from the bed I will not bother you again tonight.’

She nodded her assent and he picked up one of the branched candles and went into the bedchamber. The large canopied bed looked very comfortable. Raoul found himself imagining Cassandra lying there between the sheets, her glossy hair spread over the pillows and those dark-violet eyes fixed upon him, inviting him to join her. It was a tempting picture and the devil on his shoulder whispered that a few soft words would bring the lady into his arms. There was no denying the attraction, he had seen it in her eyes, felt it in her response when he had kissed her. There was passion in her, he would swear to it, just waiting to be awoken.

Why not? In a few more days she will be safely back in England and you will be free of her. What have you got to lose?

‘My honour,’ muttered Raoul savagely. ‘I will not demean myself to lie with my sworn enemy.’

Enemy? The word sounded false even as he uttered it. She might be a lady, and an Englishwoman at that, but over the past few days he had come to know her, to see the strength and resourcefulness in her character. The uncomfortable truth was that he was afraid. He could not give himself totally to any one woman and Lady Cassandra Witney was not the sort to settle for anything less. Brave and resourceful she might be, but she was born to command. To take, not give.

And what have you to give her, save perhaps a few nights’ pleasure and that would demean you both.

Quickly he pulled the coverlet from the bed, grabbed a couple of pillows and returned to the sitting room.

‘I have left the candles burning in there for you, milady,’ he said, dropping the bedding on the floor. ‘I will bid you goodnight.’

‘Yes, thank you.’

When she did not move he turned. She was holding out her purse to him.

‘You will need money tomorrow, if you find a suitable ship for us. For me. I do not know how much it will be, so it is best that you take this. I have kept back a few livres in case I need it, but you are attending to all the travel arrangements.’ She looked up fleetingly. ‘I am not so arrogant that I do not trust you, Monsieur Doulevant.’

Raoul took the purse, feeling its weight in his hand. She was giving him all her money? When he did not speak she gave a tiny curtsy and hurried away.

‘Cassandra, wait—’

But it was too late; the door was already firmly closed between them.






Cassie undressed quickly and slipped into bed. She had done it. She had handed over her purse to Raoul, put herself wholly in his power. Perhaps that would show him she was not the proud, disdainful woman he thought her. It should not matter, but it did. She was a little frightened at how important it was that he did not think badly of her. She turned over, nestling her cheek against one hand. She had known Raoul Doulevant for little more than a week and yet she... Cassie shied away from admitting even to herself what she thought of the man. It had taken her months to fall in love with Gerald Witney and look how quickly she had recovered from that grand passion. Clearly her feelings were not to be trusted.






In the morning Cassandra’s sunny spirits were restored. They had reached the Seine. From her window she could look over the roofs and see the masts of the ships on the quayside. With luck they would find a vessel to carry them to the coast. The inn was very quiet, so she guessed it was still early, but she scrambled out of bed and into her riding habit ready for the day ahead. She emerged from her bedroom to find Raoul already dressed. She responded to his cheerful greeting with a smile.

‘Are you going out immediately, sir?’

‘I have not yet broken my fast, so we may do so together, if you wish.’ He picked up the bedding piled neatly on a chair. ‘We had best put this out of sight before I ask the maid to bring up the tray.’

It was only a matter of minutes before they were sitting at the table with a plate of ham and fresh bread rolls before them. Cassie poured coffee and they fell into conversation like old friends. On this sunny morning it was easy to forget the harsh words of yesterday. And the fact that they were both fugitives, fleeing the country.

‘How do you think you will go on today?’ she asked when they had finished their meal.

‘I have every hope of finding a ship, but it may take some time,’ Raoul warned her. ‘I shall have to be careful when I make my enquiries. Rouen is a busy port, there will be plenty of ships going to the coast, but not all of them will be prepared to take passengers without papers.’

He picked up his hat and she accompanied him to the door.

‘Raoul, you will take care?’ Impulsively Cassie put her hand on his arm. ‘I would not have you put yourself at risk for me.’

He paused and gazed down at her, but she could not read the look in his dark eyes.

‘I shall take care, milady.’ He lifted her hand from his sleeve and pressed a kiss into the palm. ‘Bolt the door and wait here for me. I shall be back as soon as I can.’

He went out, closing the door behind him and Cassie listened to his firm step as he went quickly down the stairs. She cradled the hand that he had kissed, rubbing her thumb over the palm for a moment before she turned and ran to the window. Their room overlooked the street and she saw him emerge from the inn. There was a pleasurable flutter of excitement in her chest as she watched his tall figure striding away. Excitement, but not fear; she had given Raoul nearly all her money, but she knew enough of the man now to know he would not cheat her. She trusted him. Smiling, Cassie turned from the window and looked about the room, wondering how best to amuse herself until Raoul returned.






The day dragged on and with no clock or pocket watch Cassandra had no idea of the time except from the length of the shadows in the street below. She reminded herself that it might take Raoul all day to find a suitable ship, but the shadows were lengthening before at last she heard a heavy footstep on the landing and she flew across the room to unbolt the door.

‘Raoul, I was beginning to—’

Her smiling words ended abruptly. It was not Raoul at the door but a tall, pallid stranger in a black coat. At his shoulder was the weasel-faced Merimon, her rascally courier.

Merimon put up his hand and pointed an accusing finger at Cassie.

‘That’s her,’ he declared. ‘That’s the woman who ran off with your deserter.’




Chapter Six (#ulink_bd32bec0-497d-5f72-b25f-ace37ace7706)


Cassandra stared at the men in horrified silence. Two uniformed gendarmes stood behind Merimon and the man in the black coat. Another look at the stranger showed her that his sallow face was badly marred by the crookedness of his nose. A memory stirred. Something Raoul had said, but for the moment it eluded her.

Gesturing to her to stand aside, they all marched into the room and the officers began to search it.

‘What do you think you are doing?’ she demanded angrily.

The black-coated stranger bowed. ‘I am Auguste Valerin and I am here to arrest the deserter Raoul Doulevant.’

Cassie remembered now; Raoul had broken the man’s nose. If that disfigurement was the result it was no wonder Valerin wanted revenge. She must go carefully.

‘I have never heard of him,’ she said with a dismissive shrug. ‘I am staying here with my husband, Monsieur Duval.’

‘But I heard you call him Raoul.’

‘What of it?’

Cassie spoke calmly, but Valerin’s sneering smile filled her with unease.

‘A coincidence, perhaps, that your husband and the deserter should share the same name. It is also a coincidence that travellers coming into Rouen yesterday brought with them tales of a doctor helping to save the lives of peasants in a village not a day’s ride from here. It is said he could set broken bones and even remove a crushed leg. Such skill is a rarity and news of it was bound to spread.’

The gendarmes emerged from the bedchamber.

‘There is no one here, sir,’ declared one of them.

‘Stand guard on the landing,’ ordered Valerin. ‘Keep out of sight, ready to apprehend the deserter when he returns. I will question Madame Duval.’

‘She is no more Madame Duval than I am,’ put in Merimon.

‘No,’ Cassie admitted. ‘You would know that, since you stole my papers.’ She turned to Valerin. ‘My name is Lady Cassandra Witney and I hired this man as a courier to escort me from Verdun to the coast. He and his accomplice stole my passport and would have murdered me if I had not escaped.’

Merimon threw an aggrieved glance at Valerin, his hands spread wide.

‘What cause would I have to do that, monsieur? I am an honest man, why else would I have come to you with information about Doulevant?’

‘For the reward,’ Valerin snapped. ‘Tell me your story again and we will see what Madame Witney has to say.’

Cassie drew herself up and said in her haughtiest tone, ‘As the daughter of a marquess it is customary to address me as Lady Cassandra.’

She saw a slight wariness enter Valerin’s eyes, but he replied coldly.

‘We do not recognise such titles in France now, madame. And from what you have said, you do not have any papers to prove who you are, do you?’

‘There are many people in Verdun who will vouch for me.’

‘Possibly, but that is not my concern. Where is Doulevant?’

‘I have no idea who you mean.’

‘Do not lie to me, madame. The landlord described the man staying here with you, the man calling himself Duval. I am satisfied he and Doulevant are the same person. Now where is he?’

Cassie ignored the last question. She was thinking quickly and knew she must play a convincing part.

‘La, so he is not Raoul Duval?’ she said, opening her eyes wide at Valerin. ‘That would explain a great deal.’

‘Just tell me where he is, if you please.’

‘But I do not know,’ Cassie insisted. She decided it would be best to stick as close to the truth as possible. ‘You are very right, I am not Madame Duval. The man calling himself by that name rescued me from this villain.’ She pointed at Merimon. ‘I was grateful and hired Duval to escort me to the coast. We were travelling as man and wife because there is no money to spare for servants and it seemed safer that way.’ She clasped her hands together and assumed an anxious look. ‘When we arrived here, he asked for my purse, that he might book me a passage on a ship for England. I have not seen him since. I think perhaps he has abandoned me.’

‘You seem to be singularly unfortunate in your choice of escorts, madame.’

She returned Valerin’s glare with a steady look of her own.

‘France seems singularly full of rogues, monsieur.’

He walked slowly to a chair and sat down, a deliberate insult while she was still standing. ‘True, and I expect one of them to return here sooner or later.’

Cassie’s blood ran cold. She could think of no way to warn Raoul and could only hope that he would see the gendarmes waiting on the stairs before they spotted him.

‘You may wait if you wish,’ she said with studied indifference. ‘I told you, he has gone and taken my money with him. He will not be back.’

‘We shall see,’ purred Valerin. He looked round when the courier cursed impatiently. ‘We need waste no more of your time, Monsieur Merimon. You may leave.’

‘Not until I have had my reward.’

‘The reward was for information leading to the apprehension of one Raoul Doulevant. So far I have not seen him.’

‘But I told you, she is his accomplice.’

Cassie replied to that bitterly. ‘I was forced into his company when you attacked me!’

Merimon was inclined to argue the point, but Valerin put up his hand. ‘Enough. We know where we can find you, citizen. Good day to you.’

‘But I have received nothing for all my trouble,’ Merimon whined. He turned his sharp little eyes to Cassie. ‘She still owes me for my services.’

‘I owe you nothing. I gave you half your fee when we set out from Verdun, the agreement was that you would get the other half when we reached Le Havre.’

‘It was not I who ran off.’ He turned to Valerin again. ‘Believe me, sir, she is Doulevant’s whore.’

‘How dare you!’ Cassie raged.

‘You are in league with him.’

‘He rescued me from your attack, that is all. And I have told you, I have no money.’

‘None?’ snapped Valerin. Cassie’s slight hesitation was enough. He said coldly, ‘Will you give me your purse, or shall I call in the gendarmes to search you?’

She did not doubt he would carry out his threat. She pulled the remaining coins from her pocket and displayed them on her palm.

‘You see, nine, ten livres, nothing more.’

Valerin scraped the coins from her hand. He held them out to Merimon.

‘Take these, it will pay your passage back to Verdun.’

Merimon looked as if he would argue, but at last he took the coins and went grudgingly from the room.

‘But that is all I have,’ Cassie protested.

‘If you are indeed in league with Doulevant you will find yourself in prison soon enough and will have no need of money.’

‘And when you discover I am telling the truth, that I am innocent?’

Valerin’s glance was sceptical.

‘If you are innocent, madame, I shall personally escort you to the mayor and you may throw yourself upon his mercy.’

‘Thank you,’ she said coldly. ‘I will ask him to write to my grandmother, the Marchioness of Hune. She will send funds for my passage home. Your First Consul himself has decreed that the wives of the English détenus are free to leave.’

‘Providing they have not shown themselves to be enemies of France,’ said Valerin, adding sharply, ‘Do not go near the window, madame. I would not have you warn your lover.’

‘He is not my lover.’

‘No?’ Valerin got up and came closer. ‘Then he is a fool.’

Before she could guess his intention he put his hand around her neck and dragged her close to kiss her. Cassie struggled against him and when he finally let her go she brought her hand up to his cheek with such force that it left her palm stinging. His eyes narrowed.

‘A mistake, madame, to strike a government officer.’ Holding her prisoner with one hand he drew a length of cord from his pocket and bound her wrists together. ‘There,’ he regarded her with an unpleasant smile. ‘That should stop you scratching my eyes out while I show you—’

The door crashed open and one of the gendarmes burst in.

‘Sir, we have him! The pot-boy says the deserter is in the taproom.’

Cassie’s heart was hammering hard. Relief that she had been spared a loathsome groping was replaced by fear for Raoul. She saw the leap of triumph in Valerin’s eyes.

‘Very well,’ he barked, ‘arrest him. I will follow you.’ He turned back to Cassie. ‘What shall I do with you while I make my arrest?’

He glanced around the room, his eyes alighting on a stout peg sticking out high in the wall behind the door. He picked her up. Cassie kicked wildly but it was useless. He lifted her hands and hooked the cord over the peg. She was suspended, facing the wall, with the cord biting painfully into her wrists and her toes barely reaching the floor.

‘Perfect. That should keep you safe until I return.’ His hand squeezed her bottom through the thick folds of her skirts and Cassie shivered. She knew it was a promise of what he had in store for her.






Valerin went out, Cassie heard him clattering down the stairs, then there was silence. In addition to worries for her own safety Cassandra felt the chill of dread clutching at her insides. Had they caught Raoul? Had they hurt him? She tried to concentrate on her own predicament. Her toes just touched the ground, barely enough to relieve the pull on her wrists and stop the thin cord from biting deeper into the flesh. The wooden peg was angled upwards and strain as she might she could not reach high enough to lift her bound wrists free of it. The light was fading, soon it would be dark. In despair Cassie rested her forehead against the wall. Valerin would return for her and there was nothing she could do about it.

Her ears caught the faint sounds outside the door and she quickly blinked away her tears. This was no time for self-pity; she needed all her wits about her if she was to get through this. She heard the door open and close again. He was in the room. She turned her head, but the scathing remark on her lips died when she saw Raoul standing behind her.

Relief flooded through Cassie. She wanted to cry but would not give in to a weakness she despised and instead she took refuge in anger.

‘Well, do not stand there like an idiot, get me down!’






Raoul had not known what to expect when he entered the room. His imagination had rioted and his blood had gone cold as he considered what Valerin might have done to Cassie. To find her apparently unhurt was a relief and it increased tenfold when she addressed him in her usual haughty manner. He could not stop himself from grinning, although the effect was like pouring oil on hot coals. Her eyes positively flamed with wrath.

‘Get me down, this instant!’

He put his hands on her waist and lifted her so she could unhook herself from the peg. He lowered her gently to the ground and she turned, her arms still raised. Despite their perilous situation he could not resist the temptation to slide his hands up quickly from her tiny waist and pull her bound wrists over his head. He held her arms against his shoulders.

‘Shall I steal a kiss, as my reward for rescuing you?’

His pulse raced even faster when he recognised the gleam of excitement that mixed with the anger in her eyes, a gleam that told him she was not averse to kissing him. It was gone in an instant, but he knew he had not been mistaken and it both thrilled and alarmed him; he could no more stop flirting with her than a moth could ignore a flame.

She shook her head at him. ‘This is no time for funning, Raoul! We must go, quickly.’

Reluctantly Raoul released her.

‘You are right,’ he said, untying her wrists. ‘I have bought us a little time, but not much.’

‘How—?’

He put a finger to her lips.

‘No time to explain now. Come.’

‘Not so fast.’

At the words Raoul whipped about to find Valerin standing in the doorway. He pushed Cassie behind him, putting his body between her and the deadly pistol Valerin was holding. The sneering smile on that thin face made Raoul’s blood boil, but he knew he must not lose his head.

‘She said you had gone, but I knew you would not abandon your whore.’

‘She is a lady, Valerin, as you would know if you had any intelligence.’

‘Indeed? If that is so what is she doing here, with you?’ His lip curled. ‘Do you think any lady would look to you for protection? Why, you are not even a Frenchman.’

‘And that is where I have the advantage of you,’ Raoul drawled insolently.

The sallow face flushed with anger and hatred.

‘You are nothing but a damned deserter. The scum of the earth! I find you here, dressed like a gentleman—aping your betters, Doulevant! Men such as you should be whipped at the cart’s tail.’

Raoul knew Valerin was goading him. He did not need Cassandra’s warning hand on his arm to tell him Valerin was trying to make him attack, so that he would have an excuse to shoot. He must act and quickly. The hubbub of noise and confusion from below drifted in through the open door. At any moment Valerin’s lackeys might return and then all would be lost.

He smiled and shifted his gaze to look over the man’s shoulder.

‘You would be wise to give me the pistol, Valerin. I have an accomplice behind you.’

‘Do you think I am fool enough to believe that?’

Raoul’s smile turned into a full grin.

‘You are a fool if you do not. Any moment now you will feel my friend’s pistol against your ribs.’

Raoul saw Valerin’s certainty waver. There was a lull in the noise below that made the sudden creak of boards on the landing sound like a pistol shot. Valerin look around.

It was enough. Raoul launched himself at his opponent, one hand reaching for the pistol, the other connecting with the man’s jaw in a sickening thud. Valerin fell back, catching his head on the doorpost and collapsing, unconscious, in the doorway.






Cassie had not realised she had stopped breathing, but now she dragged in air with a gasp and felt her heart begin to thud heavily as relief surged through her. On the landing stood the pot-boy, grinning.

‘Good work, master,’ he told Raoul. ‘I saw him slip away and guessed he’d rumbled our plan.’

‘Well, here’s a little extra for your trouble.’ Raoul tucked Valerin’s pistol into his belt and tossed the boy a coin. ‘Now we must be gone. Milady?’

He reached for Cassie’s hand, but she shook her head. She pointed at Valerin.

‘Pull him into the room first, then we can lock the door. It will slow up his men when they come looking for him, or for us.’

With the pot-boy’s help it was done in a trice. The lad pocketed the key and pointed to a door further along the landing.

‘That room’s empty and the window will bring you out on the back alley. I’ll go down and see if I can make ’em think you’ve gone out into the street.’

With that the lad dashed back down the stairs to the taproom, from where sounds of an altercation could still be heard. Raoul took Cassie’s hand and they slipped into the empty bedchamber. He immediately went to the window and threw up the sash.

‘Your skirts will make it more difficult,’ he said to Cassie, who had followed him, ‘but I think you will manage.’

The window looked out over a deserted yard and the sloping roof of an outhouse abutted the wall only feet beneath the sill. It was dark now, but there was the faint glimmer of a rising moon to light their way. Raoul jumped down into the yard and turned to help Cassie but she was already on the ground and shaking out her skirts, as if escaping from bedroom windows was an everyday occurrence for her. Together they crept out of the yard and into the alley.

Cassie glanced quickly right and left. The alley was deserted, but where it joined the street she could see people running towards the inn, eager to see what was going on. Raoul grabbed her hand and pulled her in the opposite direction, where they soon found themselves in a labyrinthine mesh of alleys and narrow streets that led down to the quay. He pulled her hand on to his arm.

‘We must go slowly, we do not want to attract attention.’

Cassie nodded, forcing her body to a walk while every instinct screamed at her to run. Her eyes darted back and forth and her spine tingled with fear. She had a strong conviction that they were being watched and it was as much as she could do not to look around. She took a deep steadying breath, trying to match Raoul’s apparent insouciance. He walked easily, head up, as if he had not a care in the world and she must do the same. They were an innocent couple, making their way to the quay.

She said quietly, ‘You could have escaped easily, if you had not come back for me.’

Raoul heard the humble note in her voice, but there was something else: wonder and a touch of disbelief. He tried and failed not to feel aggrieved.

‘Did you think I would leave you, madame? We made a bargain.’

‘We did indeed, but you risked your life to save me. I am very grateful.’

He was tempted to say he did not want her gratitude, that he was a gentleman and always kept his word. That he would have done the same for anyone, but he knew it was not true. He recalled the chilling fear that had gripped his heart when he realised Valerin would find Cassandra alone. A shudder ran through him as he thought again what might have happened to her. But she was safe and he must not waste time dwelling on what might have been. He forced himself to speak lightly.

‘It was the greatest good fortune that I saw Valerin and his fools entering the inn as I was returning from the quay.’

‘But they said you were in the taproom!’

‘It was a man of similar build and dress. I met him in the street and persuaded him to go in and buy himself a drink. A few coins to the pot-boy did the rest. I am only thankful the lad had the wit to follow Valerin up the stairs.’

‘That could have been very dangerous for him.’

‘It could, although I’d seen Valerin cuff the lad even before he entered the inn, so I knew there’d be no love lost there. But enough of that, we have evaded capture and without much hurt, except to your wrists. And your dignity,’ he ended with a laugh in his voice, remembering her outrage.

‘Both of which will recover,’ she told him, unmoved. ‘That scoundrel Merimon was with him. He was hoping for a reward for your capture.’

‘He will be disappointed, then. I suppose Valerin must have come upon him after we had made our escape from the forest.’

‘That is what I think, too. But, Raoul, news has already reached here from Flagey, of how you helped the men caught under the collapsed barn. Valerin knew of it, that is why he was so certain you were here.’

‘Diable! So soon? Tiens, if Bonnaire had known how to wield the knife I would not have needed to show my hand.’

Cassandra clutched his arm. ‘You must not regret what you did for those poor people. I do not.’

‘Truly?’ He felt his heart lift a little. ‘Even though it has put you in danger?’

She waved one tiny hand.

‘Life is full of danger, Raoul. One must do what is right and helping the villagers was right.’

Raoul walked on, his head spinning at her words. She saw these things as he did. How had he ever thought her arrogant? Spirited, yes, headstrong and wilful, perhaps, but when he thought of the way she had worked with him to help the villagers and her bravery today, when Valerin had threatened her with heaven knows what, his heart was almost bursting with...

With what, respect? Admiration?

Her soft voice brought his wandering mind back to the present.

‘Where do we go now? Did you find a ship to take us out of Rouen?’

They were approaching a tavern and he stopped, realising that hunger was affecting his ability to think logically.

‘Let us go in here. I have not eaten anything since we broke our fast together this morning.’

‘Nor I.’

‘Then we shall dine in here and I can tell you of my success. Or lack of it.’

The tavern was gloomy, but that was to their advantage. He looked about and chose a small table in one shadowy corner where they could talk undisturbed. Raoul sat on the bench facing the entrance, keeping one eye on everyone who came in. He had deliberately chosen a table near the back door, where they could make their escape if necessary. A serving wench had brought them wine and bread and gone off to the kitchens to order their food.





Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Получить полную версию книги.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/pages/biblio_book/?art=48652846) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.