Dark Rider

Four

"Cassandra!" She skidded to a halt, her heart leaping with terror when she saw the man coming up the path toward her. "No!"

Her father stopped in his tracks. "Are you all right, Cassandra? Lakoa said you'd had a fall."

"It was nothing. Just a bump on the head." She glanced over her shoulder at the cottage. "You shouldn't be here."

"You were hurt," he said simply. "Where else should I be?"

"The English are here."

"I know."

She ran forward and dragged him into the underbrush beside the path. "You have to leave. Go back to the village."

"I can't do that," he said quietly. "I can't hide any more. Eleven years is long enough to be a coward."

"You aren't a coward. It's not cowardly to try to keep a madman from killing you."

"He's not mad. He merely wants justice done." He looked back at the cottage. "How much does he hate me, Cassandra?"

She shivered as she remembered that last icy glance from Danemount. "You have to leave here."

He grimaced. "That much?"

She took his arm and pulled him through the bushes toward the road. "I think we should leave this island. I've been wanting to go over to Maui for a long while to see if I could find a mare for Kapu, and you must be tired of painting that volcano. You could go first and find a place for us."

"You mean a hiding place."

"Only for a little while. When Danemount leaves, we'll come back here."

"You believe he'll give up? What makes you think he won't follow us?"

She knew as well as her father did that the Englishman would follow. "Then there are other islands."

"Not for me." He stopped when they reached the road and turned to face her. "Have you spent much time with the boy?"

She frowned. "Boy?"

"Danemount." He shrugged. "It was a slip of the tongue. I still remember him as a lad. It's difficult for me to realize he's a man now. But even as a boy he was très formidable. Is he the same?"

She could think of no more accurate description for Jared Danemount. "Yes."

"But just? Would you call him just?"

"Not if he wants to kill you."

"But in matters not connected with me?"

"Yes, I suppose so," she said impatiently. "Why are you asking these questions?"

"Because I have to be certain that you and Lani will be safe when I return to France. A just man wouldn't wreak vengeance on the innocent."

She went still. "France?"

"There's an American ship docked on the other side of the island that's due to sail for Boston at midnight tonight. The king has arranged passage and supplied me with funds to take me on to Paris once we reach Boston. He's also promised to make sure that your needs are taken care of until I return." He added ruefully, "He appears to be glad to be rid of me. My departure will evidently solve certain diplomatic problems for him."

She barely heard anything but the first part of what he had said. "Why are you going to France?"

"Raoul Cambre is there. I have to find him. I have to know-"

"What?"

"If I've been as much a fool as I suspect. I've been doing a good deal of thinking while I've been waiting in the village. I thought Raoul was my friend, but Danemount shouldn't have been able to find me. I covered my tracks in Marseilles very carefully."

"You believe Cambre betrayed you?"

"I don't know. I have to find out. Only Raoul knew I was going to Tahiti." He frowned. "No, that's not true. He might have told Jacques-Louis David."

"Who is that?"

"An artist…" His tone was abstracted. "Yes, he could have told David. They were close friends."

"What difference does it make now? It's all in the past."

"Not to me." He looked back at the cottage. "Not to him."

"Then you should forget about Cambre and worry only about hiding from Danemount."

"I'm weary of hiding." He turned to face her. "And I'm weary of making you hide. You should be back in Paris going to balls, surrounded by young men courting you."

"I'm not hiding. I love it here. I wouldn't know what to do at a ball."

"Exactly." He touched her cheek. "Pauvre petite, I fear I've done you a great disservice. Clara is right, this is no life for you."

Why was he talking about balls when there was so much else at stake? "Go to Maui," she said desperately. "There's no need for you to find this Cambre."

"There's every need. It may save my life. If Cambre did use me for his own ends, I'll have no compunction about surrendering him to Danemount." He added beneath his breath, "Though God knows if one life will be enough for him after what happened at Danjuet."

"What are you talking about? Danjuet?"

He shook his head. "There is no time. I must go. The Captain will sail without me."

"Wait!" She grabbed his arm. "What can you do even if you do find Cambre?"

"I told you, bring him to Danemount."

"Are you mad? He's not going to come meekly to be murdered by the Englishman." She shivered as she remembered Cambre's cold reptilian eyes. "He'll try to hurt you."

"Maybe. Or perhaps he's weary of hiding too." He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. "Keep well, Cassandra. Watch over Lani."

"If you're going, I'm going with you."

"To protect me from Raoul?" He shook his head. "Not this time."

"But you'll need me."

"It's too dangerous. Raoul was always clever. I didn't realize how clever. I've no doubt he'll have gained back all his influence under Napoleon's regime."

"All the more reason for me to go." She turned back toward the cottage. "Wait for me here. I'll just go tell Lani that-"

"No, Cassandra." His tone was frighteningly final.

"If you leave me here, I'll just follow you to the ship," she called after him.

"Then I'll tell the Captain you're not to be permitted on board." He started down the road. The smile he gave her over his shoulder lit his face with sweetness. "Don't be so concerned, ma chou. Nothing will happen to me. I'll be back almost before you realize I'm gone."

"Papa!"

He did not look back again.

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, she watched him walk away from her. Why would he not listen? She had never seen him this resolute. She had always been able to sway him on matters of importance, and yet in this question, which might mean life and death, he stood firm. Should she follow him to the ship? No, it would be a waste of time.

But she could not just let him go alone to face that snake. Her father was a dreamer, and dreamers could be easily fooled. The hunter could well become the hunted.

When he was out of sight, she moved heavily up the path toward the cottage. She could not let him go into danger alone, but she could not see her way clear to stop it. She would have to think about it. In the meantime she must make sure Danemount did not interfere with her father's departure. Cambre was a distant threat; the Englishman was the immediate danger.

Lani was sitting on the veranda and rose to her feet when she saw Cassie. "What's wrong? Why are you here?"

"I met Papa on the path." She glanced worriedly at the Englishmen. Lani had tucked quilts over them and placed pillows beneath their heads. They did not look ill, only peacefully asleep. "Are they all right? The laudanum wasn't-"

"It was not too much," Lani assured her. "Their sleep is very light. I was even worried they would wake before you got back and follow you to the village."

"Really?" She frowned. "We can't let them leave before morning. Papa is sailing for France at midnight tonight."

Lani did not look surprised. "Then you're right- we must make sure he gets away and out of their reach."

Cassie suddenly realized Lani might be hurt that her father had been so near and made no attempt to bid her farewell. "He was in a great hurry. He'll be back as soon as he can. He needs to find a man who can-"

"Hush." Lani smiled. "You don't need to defend Charles to me. I know he would not desert me. He's a good man and he cares for my happiness."

Cassie felt a rush of relief. Of course he would not abandon Lani. She had not realized until this moment how Danemount's words regarding her father's relationship with Lani had disturbed her. She would never have been as tolerant as Lani in the same circumstances. "He made arrangements for us to be cared for by Kamehameha."

"Which is not going to be necessary," Lani guessed shrewdly. "Is it?"

She shook her head. "But he won't let me go with him, and France is far away. It's going to be difficult."

"We will find another way." Lani moved toward the door. "I'll go tell the old one the English have fallen asleep out here and not to disturb them. It's fortunate she wishes not to displease them; she may actually obey me. I'll be back soon and we'll take turns watching them."

"No, I'll do it. You stay inside and make sure Clara doesn't come out to the veranda."

Danemount suddenly stirred.

Cassie stiffened in alarm, but he didn't open his eyes. Thank the Lord. She was not prepared to confront him yet. "Lani, would it be possible for you to go to the stable and bring some rope?"

Lani nodded. "Good idea. I'll see if I can get past the guards in the garden."

After Lani left, Cassie slowly sat down in a cushioned chair and gazed at Danemount's face. Even in sleep he looked guarded and dangerous. What would he be like when he woke?

She would have to worry about that later. She had other concerns right now. She leaned her head against the back of the chair and tried to relax. She had a little time before the Englishman woke, and she would spend it trying to find a solution to the problem facing them.

Danemount stirred three times in the hours that followed. Cassie tensed on every occasion but then relaxed when he returned to sleep. It was near three in the morning before he finally opened his eyes.

She held her breath as she saw his drowsiness vanish. "My God, you poisoned me."

"I did not," she said quickly. "I only drugged you."

"Only?"

"It was necessary."

"I'm sure Lucrezia Borgia said the same after she used her poison ring."

Lucrezia. That was whom he had meant when he had called her by that name. "Lani said that there's some doubt Lucrezia Borgia ever used poison, and I certainly did not. I only used a few drops of laudanum in the syllabub to put you to sleep."

"Laudanum? That can be a dangerous potion. How did you know how much was safe to give us?"

She squared her shoulders, prepared for battle. "I didn't know. I took a chance."

"I suppose I should count myself fortunate to wake at all," he said with lethal softness. He glanced at the still-slumbering Bradford. "Is he alive?"

"Of course he is. He should wake soon."

"He had better." His gaze moved back to her. "Or you'll join him in his sleep."

Dear God, he was angry. His voice was low, almost silky, his face without expression, but she could sense an icy rage beneath that composure. "Threats will do you no good. I'm not afraid of you."

"You should be. If you knew my- What the devil!" He had started to sit up and discovered the cords around his wrists. He went rigid. "You've bound me!

His rage was no longer controlled, and she tried to ignore the fear that spiraled through her. "Yes, both wrists and ankles." She added with bravado, "Trussed like a pig for the roasting."

He stopped struggling. "Or for the assassin's knife? When do you expect your father, Madam Borgia?"

"I'm not-" She broke off and drew a deep breath. "And my father would never kill a helpless man."

"No more than his daughter would chance killing a man with a potion she knows nothing about."

"Would you have stood by and let someone set a trap for a person you loved without trying to stop him?"

"I would have tried to find-" He wearily shook his head. "No, I suppose I would have done the same."

His honesty took her off guard, and a little of her anger ebbed. "I tried to be careful with the laudanum," she said haltingly.

"How comforting." His lips twisted. "You didn't answer. When do you expect your father?"

"I don't. I've already seen him." She paused. "And by now he's no longer on the island."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"No, you'll probably go to Kamehameha and question the islanders and waste a good deal of time. It will do you little good. Kamehameha wanted my father safe and arranged to send him away."

He studied her. "By God, I believe you're telling the truth. Now, why would you tell me he's no longer here? It would give him a head start if I searched this island first before going to the other islands."

"Because I don't want him to have too much of a head start."

Surprise flickered in his expression. "Would you care to elaborate?"

"I wanted him to go to Maui, but he wouldn't do it. He sailed for Boston at midnight. From there he'll make his way to France."

"Indeed," he murmured. "Now, why did he do that?"

"Raoul Cambre."

His expression hardened. "Ah, yes, like to like. He went running to beg help from his fellow conspirator."

"He's not like that man," she said fiercely. "And he didn't go for help. He went to see if he was wrong in his judgment of Cambre. He wanted to know if-" She broke off as she saw his skeptical expression. She would never be able to convince him of anything he didn't want to believe. "What difference does it make why he went? You don't care."

"But I do care where he's hiding. Where in France?"

"I don't know."

"But you have an idea."

"Perhaps." She had pitifully few scraps of information garnered from that long-ago encounter with Cambre, and only one name-Jacques-Louis David. She was not even sure the artist was still alive. "Perhaps not."

"Now the pertinent question. Why tell me anything at all?"

"Because I couldn't afford to have you waste time here when we could be on our way to France."

He didn't speak for a moment. "We?"

She took a deep breath and then said in a rush, "I'm going with you."

His expression remained impassive. "I don't believe you were invited. Why should I be interested in taking you with me?"

She had known he would ask that question and was prepared. "For the same reason you were keeping me prisoner here. I'd be a hostage to draw my father into your net."

"My, how accommodating you've become. You're now willing to be bait for the trap?"

"No, I'll escape at the earliest opportunity. I'm merely telling you what advantage you'd see in taking me. I didn't say that it would be a true advantage."

He looked taken aback, and then the faintest smile quirked his lips. "I see. You wish to use me and then flee."

She nodded. "Few ships stop here, and it might be months before I'd be able to follow my father to France."

"And why would you want to follow him?"

"I don't want my father destroyed. I don't trust Cambre."

"Nor me."

"Of course not."

"So you intend to save him from both of us." He shook his head. "You won't succeed."

"I will."

"Shall I let you try?" He tilted his head as if to consider it. "Untie me and we'll discuss it."

She shook her head.

"Why not?" he asked softly. "If your father has really left the island, then you have nothing to fear."

"Not until dawn. I want to make sure he's well away before I let you go."

The answer clearly did not please him. "I dislike intensely being bound like this," he said through his teeth. "I have no fondness for feeling helpless."

She could see he didn't. A man of his control would hate being robbed of it, but it was the strength of his response that she found most unusual. He appeared to resent the ropes more than the drugging. "At dawn."

"No, by God. Now. I won't-" He broke off as he saw her stubborn expression. "I could cry out and bring the guards from the garden."

"And I could put your pillow over your face and smother any sound." She added desperately, "I wouldn't want to do it, but you would force me."

"I seem to be the complete villain. I force you to poison me and then to smother me."

"Not you, only any sound, and I did not poison- But you are a villain."

"I certainly can be." He leaned back on the pillow. "You have no idea of the scope of my villainy. But I believe you may have the opportunity to learn."

Her heart gave a leap. "You'll take me with you?"

"Oh, yes." His blue eyes glinted recklessly in the moonlight. "If Deville is on his way to France, then I definitely need a hostage."

"I've told you the truth."

"Or you could be leading me away from him the way you did on the mountain."

She sighed resignedly. "You're going to waste time questioning the islanders."

"Forgive my suspicious nature, but I'd be a bit foolish to trust a woman who has deceived me, drugged me, and threatened to smother me."

She frowned. "I suppose you're right."

He gazed at her in astonishment, then started to laugh. "Suppose?" He looked down at his bound wrists, and his smile faded. "I'm going to remember this, you know. I'm a man who believes in revenge."

She moistened her lips. "I'd be a fool not to realize that fact by now."

"I'm going to sit here and look at these ropes…" He raised his eyes to her face. "And I'm going to think of all the ways a man can make a woman helpless. I know a great many, Cassie. Shall I mention a few?"

She felt heat burn her cheeks. "No."

"You prefer to be surprised?"

She didn't answer.

"It's very unwise of you to go with me. I have no intention of treating you with honor. Do you understand?"

"I have no choice. I have to go with you."

"Do you understand?" he persisted.

"I'm not stupid. You mean you intend to rut with me."

"At the earliest opportunity."

"Because you wish to punish me."

"Partly." His gaze roamed from her face to her breasts. "And partly because I've wondered how tight you'd feel around me since the moment I saw you on the beach."

She felt the muscles of her stomach clench, and for a moment she was robbed of speech.

He looked down at the cords around his wrists. "It would go easier for you when we come together, if you'd take these off. They make me angry and I'll remember, Cassie." His gaze lifted and he said softly, "I'll remember how helpless I feel and the frustration and the rage. Believe me, you don't want that."

"It's not going to happen. I won't let you-" She met his gaze and shook her head. "And I won't take off the ropes. Not until dawn."

"As you like." He closed his eyes. "But I believe you'll regret it."

Silence. No sound but the night birds in the trees. It seemed impossible, but she thought he had actually fallen back asleep. How could he relax when she was so tense she felt as if she would break apart with every breath?

"He's not worth it, you know."

She jumped, her gaze flying to his face.

His lids had lifted to reveal those cold eyes. How foolish to believe he might have been asleep. He had only been trying to subdue his frustration and gathering strength for another foray. He added roughly, "He's a coward and a murderer. Forget him. Stay here in this tropical Eden and raise your goddamn horses."

"He's not a murderer. He couldn't do anything like that."

"Not by his own hand. I told you he was a coward. Judas. How many pieces of silver did he receive, Cassie?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"I mean Danjuet. What else could I mean? Why did he-" He broke off as he saw her expression. "My God, you don't know. He didn't tell you."

"I'm sure there was nothing to tell."

"Christ, he didn't tell you." He laughed incredulously. "He let you risk your life on that mountain, and he didn't bother to tell you why."

"He would have told me," she defended. "There wasn't time."

"Fourteen years."

"He wanted to put everything in France behind him." She added quickly, "But not because he did anything wrong."

"You don't believe that."

God's will.

She tried to block out her father's words. She could not believe him capable of any real sin. "It's not possible. He's kind and gentle."

"Judas."

"No!"

"I saw him." His tone was relentless. "I know it."

"You're mistaken."

"How can you judge when you don't know anything about Danjuet. Shall I tell you?"

"I wouldn't believe you. It would be lies."

"I don't lie." He smiled crookedly. "And unlike your dear father, I think it only fair you know the man for whom you're staking so much."

Is he a just man? her father had asked her.

She had answered in the affirmative, but she did not want to admit Danemount's fairness now if it was coupled with this merciless hardness.

"Are you afraid to hear the truth?" he taunted.

"What you say is truth."

"Then judge for yourself." His gaze held hers as his words spiked out with hammered precision. "Danjuet was the home of my father's cousin, Paul Brasnier, Compte de Talaisar and his wife, Gabrielle. During the madness when aristocrats were being butchered at every turn, he couldn't believe it would happen to him. He wanted to stay in the land of his birth and thought the madness would run its course before it touched him. His wife had borne him a child two years before, and she insisted the babe was too frail to travel. My father decided to go to France to convince them to flee to England before it was too late. We arrived at Danjuet the night the neighboring estate was burned to the ground and the owner taken in chains to Paris for execution." He smiled sardonically. "It was enough to sober even cousin Paul. He agreed to allow my father to arrange transport for his family and himself. Before leaving England my father had taken the precaution of obtaining the name and address of a young artist who had been helpful in aiding the escape of another family a year earlier. Charles Deville.

"He sent for him. In the meantime we hid in a small secret room in the dungeon of the château. Deville came; he agreed to give us his help and set the escape plans in motion. My father had arranged to have a ship anchored in a cove off the coast, but we had to get there. It took two weeks before Deville completed the forged documents, and another two days to bribe the border guards. Then we were ready to go." He paused. "I remember Deville looked very somber when I looked back at him from the window of the carriage. I thought it was only concern. Your father was so very charming. None of us even suspected him of villainy."

"He's not a villain."

"No? You wouldn't have been able to convince my cousin and his wife as they knelt before the guillotine. The carriage was stopped not twenty miles from the château by agents of the Committee of Public Safety. The soldiers knew exactly who would be in the carriage. The Compte and his wife were taken prisoner and set out under guard for Paris. The soldiers would have killed their child on the spot, but my father intervened. They had other instructions for our disposition that did not include immediate slaughter, so he was allowed to take the child himself."

"Surely they wouldn't have murdered a child."

"You think not? During those days it was not unusual to use aristocrats as canon fodder."

She shuddered with horror. She had been too young to really comprehend the tragedy going on around her. She had heard only stories recounted with grim relish by Clara, and they had seemed no more real than a bad dream. Now those tales were being brought vividly to life. "My father couldn't have had anything to do with their capture."

"Judas," he said flatly. "When my father and I were brought back to the château, Deville was in the courtyard talking to a man who was obviously in charge of the soldiers."

"Then he might have been a prisoner, too."

"He turned white when he saw me staring at him. He backed away, mounted his horse, and rode out of the courtyard. Free." He added bitterly, "And probably considerably richer than when he had arrived two weeks before."

"There has to be some explanation," she whispered.

"I'm giving it to you. You just refuse to accept it."

She shook her head. "It can't be. There has to be another answer. Who was the man he was talking to?"

"Raoul Cambre."

"And he was a soldier?"

"No, I found out later he was loosely attached to the Committee of Public Safety, which was charged with the persecution of the enemies of the state. Very loosely. He astutely kept out of the light of public attention, gathering riches from the estates of the aristocrats he sent to the guillotine, riding the crest of the wave until it turned. After Robespierre was beheaded and the terror ended, he simply disappeared." He met her gaze. "Like your father."

"I keep telling you, he's not at all like my father." She was shaking, she realized. She crossed her arms to keep him from noticing. "If you want to kill someone, kill Cambre. He was clearly to blame."

"Were the Romans more to blame than Judas?"

She drew a long breath before saying unevenly, "I'm sorry your cousins were killed, but I-"

"Not only my cousins. My father was butchered."

"But you said the soldiers had orders not to hurt him," she said, shocked.

"My father was a very reckless man and had the temerity to speak to Cambre with less respect than he thought he deserved. Raoul Cambre gave the order that he be taken into the forest and cut to pieces. I watched them do it."

"Please." She closed her eyes to shut out the image. "I don't want to hear any more."

"I have no intention of giving you any bloody details. I think you've heard enough."

Too much. Danemount's clear, cold words had rung with truth and shaken her more than a passionate utterance would ever have done.

"Do you still think I'm lying?" he asked.

She forced herself to open her eyes and face him again. "I think you believe you're telling the truth."

"Christ." He stared at her in exasperation. "Don't you ever give up?"

"Sometimes the truth isn't clear," she said desperately. "You have no evidence."

"I saw Charles Deville."

"And I trust him," she whispered. "And even if I didn't trust him, he's my father. I couldn't let you kill him. It had to be a mistake. Everyone makes mistakes. We have to forgive them."

"Not a mistake of this magnitude." His lips tightened. "I don't forgive mistakes until they're paid for."

"Not even your own father's mistakes?"

He looked at her in surprise. "My father?"

"You said you were only a boy. What right did he have to take you from safety to a country in which he knew you'd be in danger?"

"I wanted to go."

"It was still a mistake. You could have been killed and it would have been his fault. He was a fool."

"We're not talking about my father."

"I'm not talking at all." She leaned back and tried to gather the tattered remnants of her composure about her. "It does no good. We cannot agree."

He was silent a moment and men said roughly. "You're right. I knew you wouldn't be dissuaded when I started. Why in Hades should I keep trying to save you, when you won't save yourself? I assure you it's not my nature. I always accept whatever fate offers me, and I'm already anticipating this particular delicacy." He smiled cynically. "By all means, come with me. It's been a long, frustrating search, and it's only right that I take a reward for my labors."

Lani came out onto the veranda just after dawn, and Cassie breathed a sigh of relief. It was good to have an ally nearby. Danemount had not spoken again, but she could sense his anger and tension as he lay those few feet away.

"Good morning," Danemount greeted Lani coldly. "May I take it that you're also actively involved in all this?"

"As actively as Cassie would permit. She didn't tell me about the laudanum." Lani walked over to Bradford, tilted his head back, and peered into his face. "I expected him to be awake by now. It must be all that brandy…"

"I am awake," Bradford murmured. "I'm just afraid to open my eyes. My head feels like a broken coconut." He cautiously opened one bloodshot eye. "Ah, but the sight of you is worth any pain. You truly have the face of an angel."

"Your judgment has no value. You've clearly had no dealings with heaven or any of its beings."

Bradford flinched. "Cruel…" He frowned in puzzlement. "I seem to be restrained." He tugged at the bonds. "Your doing?"

"I believe we can lay the blame at Mademoiselle Deville's door," Jared said. "Along with the laudanum."

"Laudanum. No wonder I have such a throbbing head."

"I'm sure it's little worse than you usually suffer in the morning." Lani turned to Cassie. "It's time to release them. Clara will be rising soon."

Cassie nodded eagerly. Thank goodness this nightmare was over. "It should be safe now."

"You're wrong," Danemount said softly. "You've never been less safe."

Avoiding his gaze, she reached below her chair and drew out the carving knife she had put there in readiness. She cut Bradford's bonds.

"Thank you," he said politely. "Though I doubt if such extreme measures were necessary in my case. I'm not a warlike man."

"Too much effort?" Lani asked.

He beamed at her. "Exactly. How pleasant to be understood."

Cassie braced herself before moving toward Danemount. He silently held out his wrists.

She hesitated for an instant. He seemed no longer tense, almost relaxed, his lean body graceful, loose-limbed, but full of danger. She felt as if she were about to release a bound panther.

He lifted his brows. "Well?"

It had to be done. She slashed through the ropes, then tossed off his blanket and cut the cords binding his ankles. She hurriedly took a step back.

"Don't be afraid." He smiled mockingly as he rose to his feet. "I'm a patient man. I can wait. Come on, Bradford. Let's go back to the ship."

"Now?" he asked as he struggled off the couch. "I seem to be a little confused. Have I missed something?"

"I'll explain on our way back to the beach." Jared paused at the top of the steps and looked back at Cassie. "It should take me at least a full day to ascertain if you've told me the truth. The guards will stay here until I do." He grimaced. "Not that they've been overly successful in this enterprise so far. They might as well not have been here."

"You shouldn't waste your time," she said impatiently. "We could leave right away."

"If I decide you're not trying to deceive me again, we'll leave tonight. I'll send a message to the guards to pack up your belongings and bring you to the beach at sunset."

Cassie heard Lani's quick intake of breath but did not look away from Danemount. "You needn't bother. I'll be there."

"It's no bother." He smiled sardonically. "I appreciate your eagerness, but there's a protocol regarding the treatment of hostages. I fear guards are de rigueur."

He went down the steps followed by Bradford. She and Lani watched them until they disappeared from view.

"What is this?" Lani asked Cassie.

"I have to go with them. There's no one else to take me," Cassie said. "It's not what I want, but at least I'll be on the same side of the world as Papa. I'll have to find a way to escape from them once I reach France."

"There is always a way. We will find it." Cassie didn't look at her; she didn't want Lani to know how relieved she was at that calm assumption of togetherness. She was suddenly feeling very uncertain and alone. "You don't have to go with me," she said haltingly. "I won't ask it."

"Good. Then instead of chattering we can concentrate on packing our bags and dealing with Clara's tantrums at our leaving. Charles left me with a little over a hundred pounds for emergencies. It's not much but it will help." Lani moved toward the door. "I'd judge we have another quarter hour before Clara wakes. Let us make the most of it."