Return of the Runaway (18 page)

‘
You
will not do so,' she told him. ‘You cannot expect me to sleep while my cousin is risking his life.'

Raoul growled at that and looked angry, but Cassie was adamant. She would share his night-time vigil and although she did not say so it was not only Wolfgang's plight that concerned her. She prayed that her cousin would secure the documents Raoul needed to prove his innocence.

* * *

It was some time shortly before dawn and Cassie was dozing in her chair when she was awoken by a faint scratching at the door. Raoul opened it carefully and the landlord slipped into the room.

‘
Monsieur
—
madame
—your
friend
is below. He is waiting for you in the stables, I cannot allow him into the inn at this time of the night. If the servants should see him and talk, we would all be undone. Come,
monsieur
, I will take you down to him.'

Cassie tried to contain her anxiety. Wolfgang had said they could trust the landlord, but she was unsure. By the way Raoul hesitated she knew that he, too, was suspicious, but after a moment he nodded.

‘Very well.'

As he moved towards the door she flew across the room to catch his arm. Her cousin might be in trouble, but she could not bear to think of Raoul walking into a trap.

‘Raoul!' He looked down at her and all the words she wanted to say caught in her throat. At last she managed just two. ‘Be careful.'

He nodded silently, squeezed her hand and was gone. She closed the door and stood with her ear pressed against the wood, listening to the two men's stealthy footsteps fading into silence. An agonising wait ensued. She walked the floor, imagining the worst, and when Raoul returned to the room only minutes later she threw herself at him. His arms tightened around her for an instant before he gently held her away from him.

‘What is this, milady? I thought you had no nerves.'

‘I beg your pardon.' She moved away, trying to sound calm. ‘I thought there might be trouble. You have seen Wolfgang?'

‘Yes, and he has given me a packet of papers from Captain Belfort. The good captain was able to furnish him with a copy of my discharge as well as writing a testimonial for me. He is also sending copies to Paris, with a letter of explanation. Valerin cannot touch me now.'

‘And Wolfgang is safe?' She saw immediately that something was wrong and pressed him for a reply.

‘There was some shooting as he left the quay and one bullet found its mark,' said Raoul, adding quickly, ‘Arrandale told me it is only a scratch and he managed to get away quite easily. No one followed him here and he is gone now to prepare for tomorrow—no, tonight.'

Cassie closed her eyes for a moment, uttering up a silent prayer of thanks. ‘And you have your papers.'

‘Yes.' He patted the pocket of his coat. ‘Your cousin told me Belfort was only too happy to oblige. It appears Valerin had already called and the captain did not take to him at all. He has sworn he will reveal nothing of my meeting with him.'

‘That is good. And Wolfgang's injury, you are sure it is not serious?'

‘He would not let me look at it, but assured me it was nothing.'

She nodded, relieved. He was standing temptingly close and she wanted nothing more than to walk back into the comfort of his arms, but it would not do. She turned away from him.

‘So,' she said. ‘You have your papers and by morning I will be on my way home. Our adventure is nearly over.'

‘Yes.'

Her fingers were locked together, pressed against her stomach.

‘I shall go back to England and you will join your sister in Brussels.'

‘Yes, I will. And I have every hope that I shall be able to take up my profession again.'

Something was in her throat and she closed her eyes, praying the tears would not fall.

‘I wish you success,
monsieur
. I am sure you will save many lives, even though I may never know of it. I doubt we shall ever meet again.'

* * *

Her words hung in the silence. Raoul wanted to go to her, to take her in his arms and kiss away the unhappiness he heard in her voice, but it must not be. The gap between himself and Lady Cassandra could not be measured in the arm's length that now separated them. She was a lady, daughter of a marquess, no mate for a common surgeon. Even if by some miracle he did not break her heart with his neglect she would be ostracised from the world she knew and over time she would grow to resent that and with resentment would come heartbreak. He must draw on every argument to keep from crossing that boundary and doing something he knew full well they would both regret.

‘No,' he said quietly. ‘It is unlikely we shall meet again. My country is part of France now, so we are at war. You are my enemy.' With that he picked up a bedroom candle and left her.

* * *

Cassie stared at the closed door, his final words echoing round and round in her head. Was this how they were to part, as enemies? She pressed her hands to her temples. It was barely two weeks since she had left Verdun, two weeks since Raoul had galloped away with her. Madness to think that in such a short time she could learn to know a man, but as she paced the floor she felt such a certainty that she knew Raoul Doulevant as well as she knew herself. He was no enemy.

With no servant to help her Cassie had become adept at undressing and she slipped into her nightgown, her thoughts revolving around the future. Raoul had his papers now. It was almost dawn. At midnight she would begin the final leg of her journey back to England and he would go north. All they would have of one another would be memories. She climbed into bed and blew out her candle. Memories. Her hands slid low across her body, trying to cover the aching, yearning void she felt there. She wanted one more memory to take with her.

* * *

The little dressing room was chilly. Raoul quickly threw off his clothes and slipped between the sheets. Even as he blew out the candle he knew sleep would not come easily. But he must rest. Once he had seen Cassie safely on her way to England, he would begin the long journey north, to Brussels. He was known there, he still had friends in the city and he doubted Valerin would follow him that far, and even if he did, he could now prove he was no deserter.

He could hear Cassie moving about in the main bedchamber. His blood heated at the very thought of her. He could not help but remember how it felt to hold her in his arms, to kiss her. He stirred restlessly. Just a few more hours to endure the torment of having her so near. He rolled on to his side, just in time to see the thin strip of light beneath the adjoining door disappear. Good. She would sleep now and so would he.

He closed his eyes, only for them to fly wide again a moment later at the sound of the door opening. Cassie was standing in the doorway, her white nightgown pale and wraithlike in the near darkness.

‘I could not sleep,' she whispered.

Confound it, she was coming closer and his body was reacting violently.

‘You have not tried hard enough,' he growled. ‘Go back to your bed, milady.'

‘I do not want us to be enemies, Raoul.'

In silence he watched her throw off her nightgown and slide down beside him on the low truckle bed. Her skin was cool as silk against his heated body and he could not resist taking her in his arms. She sighed and he felt her breath soft against his cheek.

‘I want you to make love to me, Raoul,' she whispered. ‘Show me you are not my enemy.'

He should send her away, but she was pressed against him and it was impossible to deny his arousal.

‘Cassie, you should leave, while you can.'

‘I do not want to leave you. This may be our last night together and already it is almost over. I want to remember it for ever.' She was nuzzling his neck and the last shreds of his resolve melted into the darkness.

‘This is madness,' he muttered, even as he covered her face with kisses and breathed in the sweet, flowery perfume of her hair. ‘You should not be here.'

‘Love me, Raoul, just once, before we part for ever. I will ask nothing more from you, you have my word.'

She caught his face in her hands and kissed him with such passion that he was lost. A groan caught in his throat and he returned her kiss, deepening it until his senses were soaring. Gasping, he broke off the kiss and he heard her give a little cry as she threw back her head. The slender column of her throat was a pale blur in the darkness and he trailed a line of kisses along its length, flicking his tongue into the hollow at its base. Her sigh was pure pleasure and his mouth moved on to the soft swell of her breasts. While his tongue flickered and circled one hard nub his fingers caressed the other. Her body arched towards him and she cried out as her body trembled and shuddered with ecstasy. Her passion delighted him, but all the time he was holding back, refusing to acknowledge his own needs and desires until he was sure he had sated hers. He continued to caress one pert breast with his mouth, eager to bring her to that point of white-hot heat again. Her fingers clutched at his hair and she murmured restlessly, but he did not stop. He caught her hands and pinned them against the pillow above her head, holding them fast with one hand while the other explored the soft curves of her body and his mouth and tongue played over her breast. Her hips tilted and he slid his fingers into her hot, slick core, stroking and circling until she was bucking and writhing against his hand.

* * *

With a cry Cassie arched her back and her body clenched around the long, gentle fingers that were causing such havoc inside her. Her hands were still clamped above her head, but she was not constrained, she was soaring, flying and falling all at the same time. At last the pulsing spasms ceased, every inch of her skin felt alive and sensitive to the lightest touch, but still the tongue circling her breast and the fingers stroking her core continued to move. They were feeding a fire deep inside and she could feel the pressure building again, but this time she wanted more, she wanted to feel Raoul's skin on hers, to join with him. She wondered how to tell him. Would he make her beg for the final union that she longed for so much? She licked her lips and managed to whisper his name. It was enough. While his fingers continued their inexorable rhythm he released her hands and stretched his hard, naked body against hers, at the same time seeking her lips with his mouth to join in a long, passionate kiss. He was so aroused she could not suppress a little mewl of delight deep in her throat. She clung to him, her body pliant, inviting, and when he rolled on to her she wrapped her legs around his waist and tilted her hips up to receive him. The invitation could not be resisted any longer. Their coupling was fast and furious, Cassie cried out, digging her nails into his shoulders even as his body tensed for the final push that carried her into oblivion.

They collapsed back against the pillows, gasping. Raoul kept his arms about Cassie, felt the tension leave her and he cradled her until she fell asleep. He rested his head against her hair and closed his eyes, reflecting ruefully that at the end his had not been the performance of an experienced lover. He had been as quick and hasty as a schoolboy, but he had wanted her too much, he had not been able to withstand the urgent demands of his own body. He smiled, planting a kiss on the dusky curls that tickled his chin. That did not matter. They would rest awhile and then he would take her again and show her just how skilled a lover he could be. But first he must sleep.

* * *

When Raoul awoke he was alone. Cassie was gone, but the memory of the night lingered, so fierce that he was sure he could smell her perfume. Daylight streamed in through the high little window and he lay very still, wondering if perhaps his longing had got the better of him and he had dreamed the whole thing. He quickly donned his clothes and went to the door. He knocked and hesitated briefly before entering the main bedchamber. It was empty. The door to the anteroom stood open and through it he could see Cassie, fully dressed and standing by the window. As he entered the little room she turned and one look at her face told him it had been no dream. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips had an added colour. She looked like a woman who had been loved.

* * *

Cassie had been dreading this moment. It was not that she regretted going to Raoul's bed. She had wanted a memory to take with her to England, but her longing for him had blinded her to the enormity of her actions. She had thrown herself at him, like a wanton. Was that the memory she wanted
him
to take away? She could not help the blood racing to her cheeks and hated the telltale blush. She eyed him warily: his bow was perfectly measured, his voice when he bade her good morning was coolly polite. He had hinted that he was an expert lover and most likely he was disappointed in her performance. She had wanted only to please him and had not intended to lose control so completely once she was in his arms. Just thinking about it made her body hot again. A searing disappointment swept through Cassie. She knew their lovemaking would not change the future, she and Raoul could never be together, but in her desperation to have him love her she had forfeited any respect he might have for her. She drew herself up. It was too late now to worry about that. Perhaps it was best if they ignored what had happened in the night.

She said, with a fair assumption of calm, ‘I have sent down for breakfast. It should be here any moment.'

Raoul was regarding her solemnly.

‘Milady, I think we should talk—'

Milady! Yesterday he had called her Cassie. If anything was needed to show how far they had moved apart that was it. She felt her panic rising and with relief heard the clatter of crockery outside the door.

‘Ah, here is the servant now,' she cried gaily. ‘I pray you sit down, sir, and break your fast with me.'

* * *

‘As you wish.'

Raoul gave an inward shrug and closed his mind to his disappointment. She was an aristo, she had used him for her own amusement in the night, but with the day she had no wish to acknowledge what had happened. The hectic flush on her cheek and the way she avoided his eyes suggested she was ashamed of what she had done. Perhaps she was ashamed of him and he had to admit his performance had not been spectacular. Very well. It was forgotten.