скачать книгу бесплатно
‘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.
