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‘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.’
