Return Of The Runaway. Sarah Mallory

      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