She did not doubt he would carry out his threat. She pulled the remaining coins from her pocket and displayed them on her palm.
‘You see, nine, ten livres, nothing more.’
Valerin scraped the coins from her hand. He held them out to Merimon.
‘Take these, it will pay your passage back to Verdun.’
Merimon looked as if he would argue, but at last he took the coins and went grudgingly from the room.
‘But that is all I have,’ Cassie protested.
‘If you are indeed in league with Doulevant you will find yourself in prison soon enough and will have no need of money.’
‘And when you discover I am telling the truth, that I am innocent?’
Valerin’s glance was sceptical.
‘If you are innocent, madame, I shall personally escort you to the mayor and you may throw yourself upon his mercy.’
‘Thank you,’ she said coldly. ‘I will ask him to write to my grandmother, the Marchioness of Hune. She will send funds for my passage home. Your First Consul himself has decreed that the wives of the English détenus are free to leave.’
‘Providing they have not shown themselves to be enemies of France,’ said Valerin, adding sharply, ‘Do not go near the window, madame. I would not have you warn your lover.’
‘He is not my lover.’
‘No?’ Valerin got up and came closer. ‘Then he is a fool.’
Before she could guess his intention he put his hand around her neck and dragged her close to kiss her. Cassie struggled against him and when he finally let her go she brought her hand up to his cheek with such force that it left her palm stinging. His eyes narrowed.
‘A mistake, madame, to strike a government officer.’ Holding her prisoner with one hand he drew a length of cord from his pocket and bound her wrists together. ‘There,’ he regarded her with an unpleasant smile. ‘That should stop you scratching my eyes out while I show you—’
The door crashed open and one of the gendarmes burst in.
‘Sir, we have him! The pot-boy says the deserter is in the taproom.’
Cassie’s heart was hammering hard. Relief that she had been spared a loathsome groping was replaced by fear for Raoul. She saw the leap of triumph in Valerin’s eyes.
‘Very well,’ he barked, ‘arrest him. I will follow you.’ He turned back to Cassie. ‘What shall I do with you while I make my arrest?’
He glanced around the room, his eyes alighting on a stout peg sticking out high in the wall behind the door. He picked her up. Cassie kicked wildly but it was useless. He lifted her hands and hooked the cord over the peg. She was suspended, facing the wall, with the cord biting painfully into her wrists and her toes barely reaching the floor.
‘Perfect. That should keep you safe until I return.’ His hand squeezed her bottom through the thick folds of her skirts and Cassie shivered. She knew it was a promise of what he had in store for her.
* * *
Valerin went out, Cassie heard him clattering down the stairs, then there was silence. In addition to worries for her own safety Cassandra felt the chill of dread clutching at her insides. Had they caught Raoul? Had they hurt him? She tried to concentrate on her own predicament. Her toes just touched the ground, barely enough to relieve the pull on her wrists and stop the thin cord from biting deeper into the flesh. The wooden peg was angled upwards and strain as she might she could not reach high enough to lift her bound wrists free of it. The light was fading, soon it would be dark. In despair Cassie rested her forehead against the wall. Valerin would return for her and there was nothing she could do about it.
Her ears caught the faint sounds outside the door and she quickly blinked away her tears. This was no time for self-pity; she needed all her wits about her if she was to get through this. She heard the door open and close again. He was in the room. She turned her head, but the scathing remark on her lips died when she saw Raoul standing behind her.
Relief flooded through Cassie. She wanted to cry but would not give in to a weakness she despised and instead she took refuge in anger.
‘Well, do not stand there like an idiot, get me down!’
* * *
Raoul had not known what to expect when he entered the room. His imagination had rioted and his blood had gone cold as he considered what Valerin might have done to Cassie. To find her apparently unhurt was a relief and it increased tenfold when she addressed him in her usual haughty manner. He could not stop himself from grinning, although the effect was like pouring oil on hot coals. Her eyes positively flamed with wrath.
‘Get me down, this instant!’
He put his hands on her waist and lifted her so she could unhook herself from the peg. He lowered her gently to the ground and she turned, her arms still raised. Despite their perilous situation he could not resist the temptation to slide his hands up quickly from her tiny waist and pull her bound wrists over his head. He held her arms against his shoulders.
‘Shall I steal a kiss, as my reward for rescuing you?’
His pulse raced even faster when he recognised the gleam of excitement that mixed with the anger in her eyes, a gleam that told him she was not averse to kissing him. It was gone in an instant, but he knew he had not been mistaken and it both thrilled and alarmed him; he could no more stop flirting with her than a moth could ignore a flame.
She shook her head at him. ‘This is no time for funning, Raoul! We must go, quickly.’
Reluctantly Raoul released her.
‘You are right,’ he said, untying her wrists. ‘I have bought us a little time, but not much.’
‘How—?’
He put a finger to her lips.
‘No time to explain now. Come.’
‘Not so fast.’
At the words Raoul whipped about to find Valerin standing in the doorway. He pushed Cassie behind him, putting his body between her and the deadly pistol Valerin was holding. The sneering smile on that thin face made Raoul’s blood boil, but he knew he must not lose his head.
‘She said you had gone, but I knew you would not abandon your whore.’
‘She is a lady, Valerin, as you would know if you had any intelligence.’
‘Indeed? If that is so what is she doing here, with you?’ His lip curled. ‘Do you think any lady would look to you for protection? Why, you are not even a Frenchman.’
‘And that is where I have the advantage of you,’ Raoul drawled insolently.
The sallow face flushed with anger and hatred.
‘You are nothing but a damned deserter. The scum of the earth! I find you here, dressed like a gentleman—aping your betters, Doulevant! Men such as you should be whipped at the cart’s tail.’
Raoul knew Valerin was goading him. He did not need Cassandra’s warning hand on his arm to tell him Valerin was trying to make him attack, so that he would have an excuse to shoot. He must act and quickly. The hubbub of noise and confusion from below drifted in through the open door. At any moment Valerin’s lackeys might return and then all would be lost.
He smiled and shifted his gaze to look over the man’s shoulder.
‘You would be wise to give me the pistol, Valerin. I have an accomplice behind you.’
‘Do you think I am fool enough to believe that?’
Raoul’s smile turned into a full grin.
‘You are a fool if you do not. Any moment now you will feel my friend’s pistol against your ribs.’
Raoul saw Valerin’s certainty waver. There was a lull in the noise below that made the sudden creak of boards on the landing sound like a pistol shot. Valerin look around.
It was enough. Raoul launched himself at his opponent, one hand reaching for the pistol, the other connecting with the man’s jaw in a sickening thud. Valerin fell back, catching his head on the doorpost and co
llapsing, unconscious, in the doorway.
* * *
Cassie had not realised she had stopped breathing, but now she dragged in air with a gasp and felt her heart begin to thud heavily as relief surged through her. On the landing stood the pot-boy, grinning.
‘Good work, master,’ he told Raoul. ‘I saw him slip away and guessed he’d rumbled our plan.’
‘Well, here’s a little extra for your trouble.’ Raoul tucked Valerin’s pistol into his belt and tossed the boy a coin. ‘Now we must be gone. Milady?’
He reached for Cassie’s hand, but she shook her head. She pointed at Valerin.
‘Pull him into the room first, then we can lock the door. It will slow up his men when they come looking for him, or for us.’
With the pot-boy’s help it was done in a trice. The lad pocketed the key and pointed to a door further along the landing.
‘That room’s empty and the window will bring you out on the back alley. I’ll go down and see if I can make ’em think you’ve gone out into the street.’
With that the lad dashed back down the stairs to the taproom, from where sounds of an altercation could still be heard. Raoul took Cassie’s hand and they slipped into the empty bedchamber. He immediately went to the window and threw up the sash.
‘Your skirts will make it more difficult,’ he said to Cassie, who had followed him, ‘but I think you will manage.’
The window looked out over a deserted yard and the sloping roof of an outhouse abutted the wall only feet beneath the sill. It was dark now, but there was the faint glimmer of a rising moon to light their way. Raoul jumped down into the yard and turned to help Cassie but she was already on the ground and shaking out her skirts, as if escaping from bedroom windows was an everyday occurrence for her. Together they crept out of the yard and into the alley.
Cassie glanced quickly right and left. The alley was deserted, but where it joined the street she could see people running towards the inn, eager to see what was going on. Raoul grabbed her hand and pulled her in the opposite direction, where they soon found themselves in a labyrinthine mesh of alleys and narrow streets that led down to the quay. He pulled her hand on to his arm.
‘We must go slowly, we do not want to attract attention.’
Cassie nodded, forcing her body to a walk while every instinct screamed at her to run. Her eyes darted back and forth and her spine tingled with fear. She had a strong conviction that they were being watched and it was as much as she could do not to look around. She took a deep steadying breath, trying to match Raoul’s apparent insouciance. He walked easily, head up, as if he had not a care in the world and she must do the same. They were an innocent couple, making their way to the quay.
She said quietly, ‘You could have escaped easily, if you had not come back for me.’
Raoul heard the humble note in her voice, but there was something else: wonder and a touch of disbelief. He tried and failed not to feel aggrieved.
‘Did you think I would leave you, madame? We made a bargain.’
‘We did indeed, but you risked your life to save me. I am very grateful.’
He was tempted to say he did not want her gratitude, that he was a gentleman and always kept his word. That he would have done the same for anyone, but he knew it was not true. He recalled the chilling fear that had gripped his heart when he realised Valerin would find Cassandra alone. A shudder ran through him as he thought again what might have happened to her. But she was safe and he must not waste time dwelling on what might have been. He forced himself to speak lightly.
‘It was the greatest good fortune that I saw Valerin and his fools entering the inn as I was returning from the quay.’
‘But they said you were in the taproom!’
‘It was a man of similar build and dress. I met him in the street and persuaded him to go in and buy himself a drink. A few coins to the pot-boy did the rest. I am only thankful the lad had the wit to follow Valerin up the stairs.’
‘That could have been very dangerous for him.’
‘It could, although I’d seen Valerin cuff the lad even before he entered the inn, so I knew there’d be no love lost there. But enough of that, we have evaded capture and without much hurt, except to your wrists. And your dignity,’ he ended with a laugh in his voice, remembering her outrage.
‘Both of which will recover,’ she told him, unmoved. ‘That scoundrel Merimon was with him. He was hoping for a reward for your capture.’
‘He will be disappointed, then. I suppose Valerin must have come upon him after we had made our escape from the forest.’
‘That is what I think, too. But, Raoul, news has already reached here from Flagey, of how you helped the men caught under the collapsed barn. Valerin knew of it, that is why he was so certain you were here.’
‘Diable! So soon? Tiens, if Bonnaire had known how to wield the knife I would not have needed to show my hand.’
Cassandra clutched his arm. ‘You must not regret what you did for those poor people. I do not.’
‘Truly?’ He felt his heart lift a little. ‘Even though it has put you in danger?’
She waved one tiny hand.
‘Life is full of danger, Raoul. One must do what is right and helping the villagers was right.’
Raoul walked on, his head spinning at her words. She saw these things as he did. How had he ever thought her arrogant? Spirited, yes, headstrong and wilful, perhaps, but when he thought of the way she had worked with him to help the villagers and her bravery today, when Valerin had threatened her with heaven knows what, his heart was almost bursting with...
With what, respect? Admiration?
Her soft voice brought his wandering mind back to the present.
‘Where do we go now? Did you find a ship to take us out of Rouen?’
They were approaching a tavern and he stopped, realising that hunger was affecting his ability to think logically.
‘Let us go in here. I have not eaten anything since we broke our fast together this morning.’
‘Nor I.’
‘Then we shall dine in here and I can tell you of my success. Or lack of it.’
The tavern was gloomy, but that was to their advantage. He looked about and chose a small table in one shadowy corner where they could talk undisturbed. Raoul sat on the bench facing the entrance, keeping one eye on everyone who came in. He had deliberately chosen a table near the back door, where they could make their escape if necessary. A serving wench had brought them wine and bread and gone off to the kitchens to order their food.
‘So you had no luck with finding a ship to take me home,’ Cassie prompted him, once they were alone.
‘I found one vessel that was going as far as Le Havre.’ He stopped when a rough-looking fellow stumbled against their table. Raoul grabbed at his cup as the man muttered an apology and lurched off, falling on to a chair at the next table and impatiently calling for wine.
Raoul frowned. ‘We should go.’
Cassie put a hand on his arm. ‘No,’ she whispered, keeping her eyes lowered. ‘If we leave without eating that would cause comment.’
She was right. Raoul rested his elbows on the table and appeared to study his wine, but from the corner of his eye he watched as the landlord brought a bottle and cup to the fellow, who drank greedily. With a gusty sigh of satisfaction he dragged his grimy sleeve across his bearded mouth and looked about him. Catching sight of Cassandra, he grinned in a bleary fashion before settling back in his chair and closing his eyes. Within moments he was snoring.
Cassie held out her cup for Raoul to refill it.
‘You see,’ she murmured. ‘The man is drunk, he will not trouble us.’
‘And here is our dinner,’ said Raoul loudly. ‘And in good time, too, thank you, landlord.’
‘So,’ she said when they
were alone again. ‘You have booked our passage to Le Havre?’
He shook his head. ‘I think it would be safer to go north by road to Dieppe. It would be easier for you to sail from there since it is closer to England and the crossing would be much quicker. I would wager an illicit trade still goes on between the two countries.’
‘Do you mean smugglers?’
‘Yes.’
She considered the matter. ‘If they will take me to England, then I care not what they are. Very well, if you think that would be best, Raoul, we will go to Dieppe.’
* * *
If you think that would be best, Raoul...
The trustful look in her eyes unsettled him and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had not suggested they go to Dieppe because it was best for Lady Cassandra. He would have to tell her the truth.
‘There is another reason I want to go there.’ He pushed his empty plate away. ‘I learned today that the Prométhée is currently at Dieppe.’
He watched her tear off a little piece of bread and wipe it across her plate.
‘That is the ship where you were surgeon?’
Raoul nodded, but his eyes were following that dainty morsel as she popped it into her mouth and licked her fingers. It was so neatly done, but the sight of her lips closing over one little finger tip was too fascinating for him to look away.
‘The Prométhée, Raoul,’ she prompted him gently. ‘That was your ship?’
‘What?’ Raoul blinked, cursed himself for a fool and gathered his wits as best he could. ‘Oh—yes, it was my ship. Captain Belfort will vouch for me, give me copies of my discharge papers and make everything en règle, I am sure.’
‘Then of course we must go to Dieppe.’
She spoke with such cool certainty that Raoul’s conscience pricked him still further.
‘There is no need for you to undertake the journey. I could book your passage to Le Havre from here. The captain I spoke with today was a decent fellow. I would trust him to keep to his word and look after you.’ He paused. ‘I know we struck a bargain, we agreed that I would find you a ship to take you to England, but in truth, milady, the captain would be far better placed to do that, once you reach Le Havre. I will give you back what is left of your money and you can arrange matters directly with him.’
Return of the Runaway Page 11