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* * *
Raoul Doulevant’s good humour returned once they were mounted. He tossed a coin to the ostler and set off out of the village at a steady walk.
‘The tapster says Reims is about a day’s ride from here,’ he told Cassie. ‘We might even make it before nightfall.’
‘I am only sorry he did not know where we could buy or hire another horse,’ she remarked, still smarting from their earlier exchange.
‘You do not like travelling in my arms, milady?’
‘No, I do not.’
‘You could always walk.’
‘If you were a gentleman you would walk.’
She felt his laugh rumble against her back.
‘Clearly I am no gentleman, then.’
Incensed, she turned towards him, intending to say something cutting, but when she looked into those dark eyes her breath caught in her throat. He was teasing her again. Laughter gleamed in his eyes and her traitorous body was responding. She was tingling with excitement in a way she remembered from those early days following her come-out, when she had been carefree and had flirted outrageously with many a handsome gentleman. Now she wanted to laugh back at Raoul, to tease him in return. Even worse, she found herself wondering what it would be like if he kissed her. The thought frightened her. In her present situation she dare not risk becoming too friendly with this stranger. Quickly she turned away again.
* * *
Raoul closed his eyes and exhaled a long, slow breath, thankful that the lady was now staring fixedly ahead, her little nose in the air as she tried to ignore him. What was he about, teasing her in such a way? There was something about the lady that brought out the rake in him and made him want to flirt with her, even though he knew it would be much more sensible to keep his distance. He had no time for women, other than the most casual liaisons, and instinct told him that involvement with Lady Cassandra Witney would be anything but casual.
He glanced at the lady as she rode before him. His arms were on either side, holding her firm while his hands gripped the reins. The bay was a sturdy animal and did not object to the extra weight and Raoul had to admit it was not excessive. She was petite, slender as a reed. He was almost afraid to hold her too close in case he crushed her. She was trying hard not to touch him, but sometimes the movement of the horse sent her back against him and those dark curls would tangle with his beard and he would catch a faint, elusive scent of summer flowers. Confound it, he was enjoying himself! He could not deny that having her sitting up before him made the journey much more pleasurable.
* * *
It soon became clear that the tapster’s estimate of the journey time was very optimistic. With only the long-tailed bay to ride progress was slow and in the hot September sun Raoul was reluctant to push the horse to more than a walking pace. He was glad when their road took them through dense woodland; that at least provided some welcome shade. The lady before him said very little. Perhaps she was still cross with him for teasing her, but he did not mind her reticence, for he was not fond of inconsequential chattering.
Raoul judged they had only an hour or so of daylight left and was beginning to consider where they would spend the night when the horse’s ears pricked. Raoul heard it, too, the jingling sounds of harness and male voices from around the bend ahead of them. Lots of voices. Quickly he dragged on the reins and urged the horse into the shelter of the trees.
Their sudden departure from the road shook his companion out of her reverie. She asked him what was happening and he answered her briefly.
‘It may be nothing, but I think there may be soldiers ahead of us.’
* * *
Cassie’s heart thudded with anxiety as they pushed deeper between the trees. It was bad enough that she had no papers to prove her identity, but she was also travelling with a fugitive. She could imagine all too well what would happen if they were caught. The ground had been rising since they left the road, but now it began to climb steeply and they stopped to dismount. In silence they moved deeper into the woods until they were out of sight of the road and the raucous voices had faded to a faint, occasional shout.
‘Stay here,’ muttered Raoul, tethering the horse. ‘I will go back and see what they are about.’
‘I shall come with you.’
‘You will be safer here.’
‘Oh, no.’ She caught his sleeve. ‘You are not leaving me alone.’
He frowned and looked as if he was about to argue, then he changed his mind.
‘Very well. Come with me, but quietly.’
He took her hand and led her back through the bushes, following the sound of the voices. At last he stopped, pulling Cassie closer and binding her to him as they peered through the thick foliage. She could see splashes of colour through the trees, mainly blue, but touches of red and the glint of sunlight on metal. The air was redolent with woodsmoke.
‘They are making camp for the night,’ breathed Raoul.
‘What shall we do? Can we circle around them and back to the road?’
He shook his head. ‘We have no idea how many of them there are. They may be the first of several units, or there may be stragglers. We must give them a very wide berth. We need to move deeper into the woods, too, in case they come foraging for firewood.’
It was at that inopportune moment, with French soldiers dangerously close, that Cassie discovered she did not wish to go anywhere. Raoul still had his arm about her waist and despite his rough and dirty clothes her body was happy to lean into him. She was disturbingly aware of that powerful figure, tense and ready to act. Growing up, she had always been impatient of convention and had craved excitement and danger. Instinct told her this man was both exciting and dangerous. A heady combination, she thought as he led her away. And one she would be wise to keep at bay.
They retrieved the horse and set off into the woods. Raoul was no longer holding her and Cassie had to fight down the temptation to grab his hand. She was perfectly capable of walking unaided and she told herself it was useful to have both hands free to draw her skirts away from encroaching twigs and branches. It was impossible to ride, the trees were too thick and their low branches were barely above the saddle. They walked for what seemed like hours. Cassie was bone-weary but stubborn pride kept her silent. As the sun went down it grew much colder and the thought of spending another night in the open was quite daunting.
It was almost dark when they saw before them a small house in a clearing. An old woman appeared at the door and Cassie stopped, knowing the deep shadows of the trees would hide them. She almost gasped with shock and surprise when Raoul put his arm about her waist and walked her forward into the clearing.
‘Come along, madame, let us see if we can find a little charity here.’ He raised his voice: ‘Good evening to you, Mother. Could you spare a little supper for two weary travellers? We were taking a short cut and lost our way.’
The old woman looked at them with incurious eyes until he jingled the coins in his pocket. She jerked her head, as if inviting them in.
‘I have salt herring I can fry for you and a little bread.’
‘That would suit us very well, Mother, thank you.’
They followed her into the cottage. Raoul’s arm was still about Cassie and he was smiling, but she knew he was alert, ready to fight if danger threatened. A single oil lamp burned inside and by its fragile light Cassie could see the house was very small, a single square room with an earth floor and a straw mattress in one corner. Cassie guessed the old woman lived here alone. A sluggish fire smoked in the hearth, but it was sufficient to warm the small space and Cassie sank down on to a rickety bench placed against one wall. The old woman gestured to Raoul to sit down with Cassie while she prepared their meal.
Cassie was exhausted. Raoul’s shoulder was so temptingly close and she leaned her head against it, watching through half-closed eyes as the woman poked the fire into life and added more wood. Soon the pungent smell of the fish filled the room. Cassie’s eyes began to smart and she closed them, but then it was too much trouble to open them again and she dozed until Raoul gave her a little nudge.
‘Wake up now. You must eat something.’
Sleepily Cassie sat up to find a small table had been pushed in front of them and it was set now with plates and horn cups. They dined on salt herring and bread, but when the old woman offered them some of her white brandy Raoul refused, politely but firmly.
‘Would it be so very bad?’ Cassie murmured when their hostess went off to fetch them some water.
‘Very likely,’ he replied, ‘but even if it is drinkable, to take it with the herring would give you a raging thirst.’
She accepted this without comment. She did not like the fish very much, but the bread was fresh and Cassie made a good meal. When it was finished the old woman cleared everything away. Raoul took a few coins out of his pocket and held them out.
‘Thank you, Mother, for your hospitality. There is double this if you will let us sleep on your floor tonight.’
The old crone’s eyes gleamed. ‘Double it again and I’ll let ye have the paillasse.’
Cassie glanced from the woman to the bed in the corner and could barely suppress a shudder at the thought of what might be crawling amongst the straw. To her relief Raoul did not hesitate to decline her offer.
‘We would not take your cot, Mother, nor your covers. We shall be comfortable enough before the fire.’
She shrugged and took the coins from his palm.
‘As you please.’
The old woman banked up the fire and cleared a space before it, even going so far as to find a threadbare rug to put on the ground. Raoul went outside to attend to the horse and the old woman gave Cassie a toothless smile.
‘You’ve got yourself a good man there, madame.’
‘What? Oh—oh, yes.’ Cassie nodded. She was too tired to try and explain that they were not married.
* * *
When Raoul returned the old woman blew out the lamp and retired to her bed with her flask of brandy, leaving her guests to fend for themselves before the fire. There was no privacy and they both lay down fully dressed on the old rug. Raoul stretched out on his back and linked his hands behind his head.
‘Do not fret,’ he murmured. ‘I shall not touch you.’
Cassie did not deign to reply to his teasing tone. She curled up on her side with her back to Raoul. She was nearest the fire and glad of the heat from the dying embers, but she could not relax. She was far too on edge, aware of Raoul’s body so close to her own. He was so big, and rough and...male. Gerald had been more of a gamester than a sportsman. He had been fastidious about his dress and she had never seen him with more than a slight shadow of stubble on his face. That is what she had loved about him; he had always looked like the perfect gentleman. She stirred, uncomfortable with the thought that he had not always acted like a gentleman.
Not that it mattered now, Gerald was dead and she would have to make her own way in the world. Sleepily she wondered why she had not told Raoul she was a widow. After all, it could make no difference to him, since as far as he was aware her husband was still in Verdun. But some deep, unfathomable instinct told her Raoul Doulevant was an honourable man. Now her hands came together and she fingered the plain wedding band. It was little enough protection, but it was all she had.
Cassie lay still, tense and alert until she heard Raoul snoring gently. The old woman had told them it was a full day’s walk from here to Reims, so by tomorrow they would be in the city and she could be rid of her ragged companion. She closed her eyes. The sooner dawn came the better.
* * *
Cassie stirred. She was still lying on her side, facing the fire which had died down to a faint glow, and the room was in almost total darkness. She reached down to make sure the skirts of her riding habit were tucked around her feet, but she could feel the chill of the night air through the sleeves of her jacket. She tried rubbing her arms, but that did not help much. She sighed.
‘What is the matter?’ Raoul’s voice was no more than a sleepy whisper in the darkness.
‘I am cold.’
He shifted closer, curving his body around hers and putting his arm over her. The effect was startling. Heat spread quickly through her body and with it a sizzling excitement. It did not matter that Raoul was dressed in rough homespun clothes, or that his ragged beard tickled her neck, her pulse leapt erratically as he curled himself about her.
‘Is that better?’
Cassie swallowed. She could not reply, her throat had dried, her breasts strained against the confines of her jacket. She was wrapped in the arms of a man, a stranger. Even worse, she wanted him to kiss and caress her. Heavens she should move away, immediately! But somehow she could not make her body obey, and the idea of lying cold and alone for the remainder of the night was not at all appealing. It was confusing, to feel so secure, yet so vulnerable, all at the same time.
Raoul’s arm tightened, pulling them closer together. So close she could feel his breath on her cheek, feel his body close against hers. She should protest, she should object strongly to being held in this way, but she was so warm now, so comfortable. The initial burning excitement had settled into a sense of wellbeing. She had never felt so safe before, or so warm. She felt a smile spreading out from her very core.
‘Oh, yes,’ she murmured sleepily. ‘Oh, yes, that is much better.’
* * *
Raoul lay very still, listening to Cassie’s gentle, regular breathing. It was taking all his willpower not to nuzzle closer and nibble the delightful shell-like ear, to keep his hands from seeking out the swell of her breasts. He uttered up a fervent prayer of thanks that the thick folds of her skirts prevented her knowing just how aroused he was to have her lying with him in this way.
He had been too long without a woman. How else could he explain the heat that shot through him whenever they touched? Even when she looked at him he was aware of a connection, as if they had known each other for ever. Fanciful rubbish, he told himself. She was a spoiled English aristo and he despised such women. By heaven, at eight-and-twenty he was too old to fall for a pair of violet-blue eyes, no matter how much they sparkled. And there was no doubt that Lady Cassandra’s eyes sparkled quite exceptionally, so much so they haunted his dreams, as did the delightful curves of her body. Even now he wanted to explore those curves, to run his fingers over the dipping valley of her waist, the rounded swell of her hips and the equally enchanting breasts that he judged would fit perfectly into his hands.
He closed his eyes. This was nothing short of torture, to keep still while he was wrapped around this woman. He turned his mind to consider how he must look to her, with his dirty clothes and unkempt hair. She must think him a rogue, a vagabond. He was not fit to clean her boots.
And yet here she was, sleeping in his arms.
Chapter Three (#ulink_c018787d-22e6-5ac0-8164-99d6a1205680)
They quit the cottage soon after dawn and followed the narrow track through the woods that the old woman told them would bring them to the highway a few miles to the west of Reims. They rode and walked by turns as the sun moved higher in the clear blue sky, but although Cassandra was cheerful enough her companion was taciturn, even surly, and after travelling a few miles in silence she taxed him with it. They were walking side by side at that point and Cassie decided it would be easier to ask the question now, rather than when they were on horseback. For some inexplicable reason when she was sitting within the circle of his arms it was difficult to think clearly.
She said now, ‘You have scarce said a dozen civil words to me since we set out, monsieur. Have I offended you in some way?’
‘If you must know I did not sleep well.’
‘Oh.’ Something in his tone sent the blood rushing to her cheeks as Cassie realised that she might have been the cause. She had woken at dawn to find they were still curled up together but even more intimately, his cheek resting against her hair and one of those strong, capable hands cradling her breast. It was such a snug fit she thought they might have been made for one another. A preposterous idea, but at the time it had made her want to smile. Now it only made her blush. He had still been sleeping when she had slipped out of his unconscious embrace and she had said nothing about it, hoping he would not remember, but perhaps he had been more aware of how they had slept together than she had first thought.
Cassie closed her eyes as embarrassment and remorse swept over her like a wave. If eloping with Gerald had dented her reputation, what had happened to her since leaving Verdun was like to smash it completely.
Raoul Doulevant cleared his throat.
‘How long have you been in France, milady?’
He was trying to give her thoughts a different turn and she responded gratefully.
‘Just over a year. Gerald and I travelled to Paris last summer, shortly after we were married. The Treaty of Amiens had opened the borders and we joined the fashionable throng. Then, in May this year, the Peace ended.’
‘Ah, yes.’ He nodded. ‘Bonaparte issued instructions that every Englishman between the ages of sixteen and sixty should be detained.’
‘Yes.’
Cassie fell silent, unwilling to admit that she had already been regretting her hasty marriage. She had stayed and supported her husband, even though he had given her little thanks for it after the first anxious weeks of his detention.
‘But now you return to England without him. I had heard the English in Verdun lived very comfortably.’
‘Only if they have money. Our funds were running very low.’
‘Ah. So now your husband’s fortune has gone you have abandoned him.’
‘No!’ She bit her lip. She should correct him, tell him it was her money they had lived on, that she was now a widow, but the words stuck in her throat. Pride would not let her admit how wrong she had been, how foolish. Instead she said haughtily, ‘You have no right to judge me.’
‘Why, because I am not your equal, my lady?’
‘You are impertinent, monsieur. I had expected better manners from a doctor.’
‘But I have told you I am not a doctor. I am a surgeon.’
‘But clearly not a gentleman!’
A heavy silence followed her words, but she would not take them back. An angry frown descended upon Raoul’s countenance, but he did not speak. Cassie kept pace with him, head high, but his refusal to respond flayed her nerves. She tried telling herself that it was better if they did not talk, that it was safer to keep a distance, yet she found the silence unbearable and after a while she threw a question at him.
‘If you are no deserter, why are you being pursued?’
‘That need not concern you.’
Cassie knew his retort was no more than she deserved, after what she had said to him. Her temper had subsided as quickly as it was roused; she knew it was wise to keep a distance from this man, but that did not mean they had to be at odds.
She tried to make amends by saying contritely, ‘I beg your pardon if my words offended you, monsieur, but you must admit, your appearance, your situation... We shall have a miserable journey if we do not discuss something.’
