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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
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?’