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
