Bride of the Solway (21 page)

She laughed—a woman whose feet were torn to shreds, and who was freezing to death, to boot—she actually laughed. 'Ross,' she said slowly, using his given name for the very first time and starting a strange glow in his belly, 'you are a fine soldier, I am sure, but you are sadly lacking in.. .er.. .certain other respects.'

'Oh.' It was all he could think to say.

'I shall wait here on the end of this flimsy piece of string, since you ask it of me, but I will have the rest of that kiss first.' She reached up to put her arms round his neck, pulling his mouth down to hers. Just before their lips touched, she whispered, 'And I will not be carried.'

It took several essays with Ross's clever piece of string before they found the dyke. Each time, Cassie hobbled along behind, holding Ross's hand and stubbornly refusing to be carried. It was a purely practical matter, she said. If he was carrying her, he wouldn't be able to feel his way. And then they would both be lost. She had no desire to be carried straight into a tarn, even by a heroic soldier intent on saving her feet. He had laughed, groaned, and surrendered. After kissing her yet again.

'Ah, the guardian angel again.' Ross's questing fingers had found that the dyke adjoined a high wall. A house, perhaps? More likely a barn or some kind of rough shelter for animals. Even if it was just a wall, it would give them some better protection from the wet. If it had a roof, it would be a palace.

By the time he had felt his way to the end of the string and then returned, he had made up his mind. Without saying a word, he lifted her into his arms.

'No, Ross! You can't! I won't let you!'

'I don't think you have a choice, Cassie.' He hoped she could hear the smile in his voice.

'But you'll have us in a ditch!'

'No. I know where we are. Reach out your hand. Towards the dyke.'

She exclaimed in surprise at finding a high wall.

'Now, if you'll just keep your hand touching the wall while I carry you. Tell me as soon as the wall ends. I know it's not far.'

Cassie was so engrossed in doing her part of this task that she forgot to protest about being carried. They reached the end of the wall and followed it round one corner and then another. It was some kind of dilapidated barn. Part of its front wall was falling down. But it was shelter of a sort.

Ross carried Cassie inside, still following the line of the wall. In the far corner, he sensed that the ground was dry underfoot. At least part of the roof might still be intact. He set her down just as she started to protest once more.

'Put me—Oh. Thank you.'

'My pleasure, ma'am.' He grinned at her, even though he knew she could not see his face. 'At least this corner is dry, which is a relief.' He squatted down and felt around. 'We're really in luck. There is some hay here. It must be a store for some animals hereabouts.'

'That sounds wonderful. I admit I should very much like to sit down. It has been... er... a tiring day.'

Ross could not control the laughter that burst from him. 'Cassie Elliott, you are quite unbelievable. I may tell you that I've seen seasoned soldiers with less courage. And who complained a great deal more.'

'Have you? I—' There was a distinct catch in her voice. 'Thank you.' She moved to sit down.

'No, not yet. Let me spread this hay first. There isn't very much of it, but I fancy I can fashion a seat big enough for both of us. It's almost like being back in Spain, now I come to think of it. Though the rain was sometimes warmer there.' He finished spreading the hay and took off his coat to cover it. He hesitated. His coat was probably much too wet. Better to risk the scratching of the stalks than to invite a dose of the ague. 'If you are ready, ma'am, your chaise longue awaits.' He reached up for her hand and pulled her down beside him.

'Nothing less than the best velvet will do, you know.'

'Ah, forgive me, I was unaware. '
Tis
only silk damask, I fear. Would you have me change it?'

'Immediately,' she said, snuggling into his side.

She was bearing up bravely, but he could feel that she was shivering with cold. No wonder. 'Cassie, would it not be best to remove your cloak? It is very wet.' As she started to struggle with the ties, he said, 'Let me help you, my dear.' He put his hands to her neck, touching the cold and slightly clammy skin until he found the fastenings and untied them. Then he lifted the cloak away. 'If I can find a hook of some kind, I'll tie it to the wall. It might dry a little. I'll need that string.' Gently, he untied it from Cassie's wrist. 'And my knife, too. I hope I still have it. It was somewhere in my coat.'

He started to search through the pockets of his coat, but stopped with a curse so violent that Cassie gasped. 'Forgive me. I did not mean to shock you, but I am an idiot. Just look what I have found.'

'I would if I could, but I'm afraid my cat's eyes seem to have deserted me for the moment. What is it?'

'My brandy flask.' He started to unscrew the top. 'This will help to ward off the chill, Cassie. You need to get warm.' He pulled her against him and put the flask to her lips.

She pushed it a way, with a cry of protest. 'Ugh! I can't drink spirits. You will make me drunk.'

'Cassie, you are as stubborn as a Spanish mule. You are soaked through, you're shivering with cold, you haven't eaten all day, but you refuse the only thing we have that might help?' He picked up a handful of hay and thrust it at her till it touched her skin. 'You could always eat the hay, of course, but since you are not a horse, I venture to suggest that the brandy would do you more good.' His anger was perilously near the surface now. Did she not understand the danger she was in? He almost wanted to shake her. And to force the brandy down her throat.

Very gently, she opened his fingers and removed the wisps of hay. 'I'm sorry,' she said quietly, putting her hand in his. 'I didn't mean to vex you. I know you have my best interests at heart.'

'Then, will you—'

Without letting him finish, she took the open flask from his hand and swallowed a large gulp.

'Cassie, you can't—' It was much too late. She was already coughing and spluttering as the spirit burnt its way down her throat.

'I—' Her voice was a barely audible croak.

Ross quickly set the flask down and pulled Cassie into his arms, kissing the top of her head. His anger had evaporated on the spot. He only hoped she would not
realise
that he was laughing.

But she had. 'You rogue,' she wheezed as soon as she had a little control of her voice again. 'You're laughing at me.'

'Well, you did rather remind me of a frog.'

'Oh? I'm happy to admit that I am wet and cold, as frogs are, but I didn't think I was green.'

He laughed again, but this time she was laughing with him. 'You may indeed turn green if you stay as wet as you are. Seriously, you must get warm. I dare not build a fire, just in case. So we shall have to make the best of what we have. Lie down here with me. My coat can cover us. It's heavier than your cloak and perhaps not so wet on the inside.'

She did as he bade her, apparently without a qualm. Most other ladies would have had a fit of the
vapours
at the thought. But most other ladies would not have been alone with a man in the first place.

He pulled her body close against the length of his own, trying to warm every inch of her. He tucked the coat around her as best he could. His boots were sticking out, but her poor injured feet were, mercifully, covered.

'Are you feeling any warmer now?'

'Yes. Much,' she whispered. 'I can certainly feel the effects of the brandy.'

'Good.' He held her even closer. 'Try to go to sleep if you can.' He tucked her head under his chin. Her hair had come down around her shoulders in a mass of damp, tangled curls. Exactly like the first time he had ever seen her. A sodden gown and a mass of tangled hair.

She moaned a little.

'Cassie?'

'It is nothing. Truly.'

This time her body was betraying her, for she had started to shake uncontrollably. The noise of her chattering teeth was incredibly loud in the dark silence.

'This is no good. We must get you out of those wet clothes. There's no other way.' Ignoring her stammering protest, he threw off the greatcoat and pulled her up so that he could start undoing her gown.

'Sir, you cannot—' she managed between shivers.

'This is no time for propriety, Cassie. If we don't get you dry, you'll never recover from this.' He was running his hands down the back of her gown as he spoke. 'Dammit. Where are the fastenings on this confounded garment?'

'I can do it.' She started to fumble, somewhere at the front, under her breasts.

Cassie managed to make her trembling fingers obey her for long enough to undo her gown and petticoats, though she could not prevent Ross from helping her out of them. She tried not to think about what she was doing. If she did not get dry and warm, she was going to be very ill. And then she would never reach her godfather's. Compared with that, what was a little impropriety?

'Now your stays, Cassie.'

Cassie gulped between shivers. 'You will have t...to help me. The laces. At the back.'

She felt his fingers struggling with the damp laces. And failing to undo the knots. 'I can k.. .keep them on,' she said faintly.

'No. They are just as wet as your gown.'

She felt his fingers on her back and then her stays gave way. Heavens, he had used that knife to slit them!

'You will have to arrive at Sir Angus's without stays, I'm afraid. But it's better than not arriving at all.' He rose. 'Stay there. I'll try to hang up your things, or spread them out at least.'

Cassie picked up the greatcoat and huddled into it.

In a moment, he was back. 'Now your shift, Cassie.'

'
Wha
—? No. No, I cannot.'

He reached across and took a handful of the material. 'It's thin enough. It will dry if we spread it out. But if you keep it on it will help you to freeze.'

For a moment, Cassie thought he was going to pull it from her body. But he did nothing. He simply waited. Then, 'Be sensible, Cassie. It is for the best. You know that.'
   

He did not need to force her. He knew exactly how to make her comply. With a slight shrug, Cassie wriggled the shift from under her bottom and took it off. At least he could not see her naked body in the dark.

'Thank you.' He took it from her and moved to spread it out. 'Now, lie down on the hay and we'll try to get you warm.'

Cassie waited for him to spread the greatcoat over her. He did not. Instead she heard some sounds she could not place, and then he was lying beside her once more, pulling her against his big body and covering them both. She gasped. 'Sir, you—'

'My clothes were as wet as yours, Cassie. They had to go, too.'

'But—'

'Sleep now. We have a fair way to go, as soon as it is light.' He sounded very firm, almost matter of fact. Which was very strange, coming from a man who was naked from the waist up.

Ross lay still for a long time, holding Cassie until the shaking stopped. She was certainly much warmer now. At length, she drifted into sleep and he dared to let out the breath he seemed to have been holding for hours.

It was not easy to hold a naked girl in his arms, trying to prevent his body from reacting to the temptation she offered. And Cassie Elliott—even wet and shivering—was a luscious armful. He had told himself that he could not remove his damp breeches because he did not dare to remove his sodden boots. That was true. As far as it went. But it was only half of the story. He could admit now that he was afraid to lie naked with Cassie in his arms.

He tried to divert his thoughts, to plan what they should do when dawn came. He would have to find some way of binding up Cassie's feet. Bits of her stays, perhaps, tied up with string? No, absurd. But he might be able to hack off part of the tails of his greatcoat and use those. The cloth was fairly thick. It might fit the bill, for a while. If only he knew how much further they had to go. And whether they dared to seek help.

Cassie moaned softly against his chest, but did not wake.

That settled it. It would be inhuman to ask her to walk. He would have to seek help, no matter what the risk. He still had money enough, a purse of guineas and some slightly damp banknotes. If he could find someone in this godforsaken landscape, he would offer them a king's ransom for a horse, or a cart.