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?’
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.
