Regency Rogues: Rakes' Redemption. Sarah Mallory

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.

      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