she began to walk again he fell into step beside her.
‘Where is your husband?’
Cassie hesitated for a heartbeat’s pause before she replied.
‘At Verdun.’
‘He is a détenu?’
Again she hesitated, not wanting to admit she was a widow. That she was alone and unprotected.
‘Yes. That scoundrel you knocked down was the courier I hired to escort me back to England.’
‘A bad choice, clearly.’
She felt the hot tears prickling at the back of her eyes and blinked them away. This was no time for self-pity.
‘And what of you?’ she asked him, anxious to avoid more questions concerning her situation. ‘Who is pursuing you?’
‘Officers of the law. They think I am a deserter.’
‘They think it? And is it not so?’
‘No. I was discharged honourably from the navy six months ago.’
She said, a hint of censure in her voice, ‘In the present circumstances, with the country at war, I would have thought any true Frenchman would wish to remain in the service of his country, monsieur.’
‘Any true Frenchman might,’ he retorted. ‘But I am from Brussels. I grew up in the Southern Netherlands, under Austrian rule.’
‘And yet your French is excellent.’
‘My family came originally from a town near the French border and moved to Brussels when I was a babe, so I grew up learning the language. Then I moved to Paris and later joined the French Navy, so you see, for years I have spoken nothing else.’
* * *
The lady made no reply and Raoul asked himself bitterly why he put himself out to explain. What difference would it make to her? She was English and everyone knew they thought themselves superior to the rest of Europe. It was the very worst of bad fortune that he should have saddled himself with an English aristo!
‘The horse is rested now,’ he said shortly. ‘I think we can ride again.’
He mounted and reached down for her, pulling her up before him. He tried not to think how small and feminine she was, how the faint trace of perfume reminded him of balmy summer days. She settled herself on the horse, her dark curls tickling his chin. When the horse stumbled in the dark she clutched at his sleeve and instinctively he wrapped one arm around her waist.
She gasped and said haughtily, ‘Thank you, you do not need to hold me so tightly. I am in no danger of falling now.’
His jaw clenched. If she thought he had designs upon her she was much mistaken. Silently he released her and put both hands back on the reins, but it was impossible not to be aware of her for she was practically sitting on his lap. He thought ruefully that he would have enjoyed the situation, if she had been anything other than an Englishwoman.
They travelled on, alternatively walking and riding, but maintaining an awkward silence. Raoul concentrated on guiding their mount through the near darkness of the woods. At length he noticed that the trees were thinning and they emerged on to a wide track that stretched like a grey ribbon in the starry darkness. They dismounted and Raoul stared up at the sky. The moon had gone and the stars were dimming in the first light of dawn.
‘Do you know where we are now?’ she asked him.
‘We have been travelling north.’
‘The wrong direction.’
‘That depends upon where one wishes to go, madame.’
* * *
Cassie bit her lip. She was in a foreign land, enemy country. This man had saved her from an immediate danger, but there was no reason why he should do more for her. Indeed, the alacrity with which he had released her when the horse had missed its step suggested he had no wish to help her further. Yet she needed help. Her encounter with Merimon had shown her that.
She asked politely, ‘What is your destination, monsieur?’
‘Brussels.’
‘I want to get to England. Do you think it might be easier from there?’ She added, trying not to sound anxious, ‘I gave my passport to the courier.’
‘Then you have no papers.’
‘No.’
Suddenly she felt very vulnerable, alone in the middle of France with a stranger. A fugitive and she had only his word that he was not a villain. His next words sent a chill of fear through her blood.
‘Do you have any money?’
* * *
Even in the gloom Raoul saw the look of apprehension flicker across the lady’s face and it incensed him.
He said coldly, ‘I am no thief, madame, I do not intend to steal from you.’
She came back at him with all the arrogance he had come to expect from the English, head up, eyes flashing.
‘How do I know that? You stole the horse, after all.’
His lip curled, but it occurred to him that she had no other defence so he reined in an angry response. Instead he growled, ‘Remember, madame, I could have left you to your fate with those two villains.’
‘That is very true,’ she acknowledged. ‘I am obliged to you and I beg your pardon.’ She drew in a long breath, ‘And, yes, I do have a little money.’
Her stiff apology doused his anger immediately. He smiled.
‘Then you have the advantage of me, madame, for I have not a sou.’
‘Oh, I see. Let me give you something for rescuing me—’
He recoiled instantly.
‘That is not necessary,’ he said quickly. ‘After all, I have this fine horse, do I not?’
‘Yes, of course. He will carry you to Brussels, I am sure.’ She paused. ‘Is it far from here?’
He shrugged. ‘Depending on just where we are, three or four days’ travel, I would think. You would do better if you head for Reims, it is much closer and you will be able to buy your passage from there to the coast.’
‘Thank you.’ He watched her look at the sky, then up and down the track. ‘So, Reims would be that way?’
She pointed in a southerly direction, trying to sound matter of fact, as if she was well accustomed to setting off alone, in the dark, along a little-used road through an alien land, but Raoul heard the note of anxiety in her voice.
She is not your concern.
‘Yes,’ he replied.
