Susan Johnson Read Online Free PDF Page A

extent of her danger ominously real.
    “Because of the hay,” he said next, placing a fine silk shawl over her face, and after that she could no longer see, although she felt the solidness of his body against hers. And she smelled the sweet scent of clover, timothy, and rye grass above her as the contents of the cart were piled over them in concealment.
    Adam and Kinmont led the horse-drawn cart through the village as swiftly as they could without drawing notice. And once they were a suitable distance away, the cart was discarded in a copse of alder near a stream where a small band of men leading horses awaited them.
    Elizabeth rode then as they galloped north, settled across the Laird’s muscular thighs, the saddle pommel brushing her hip, her hands and feet still tied, her gag still in place.
    Johnnie Carre could see the fire in her eyes and, a man of experience, he preferred not listening to her outrage.
    An escort of two hundred Carre men fell in with them short miles away, at the dale below Allenton, and from that point every man’s countenance was wreathed in smiles. Two hundred Carres could fight their way through anything they met, take on any troop in pursuit. They were in high spirits.
    “My brother’s in Harbottle Castle dungeon,” Johnnie said to Elizabeth shortly after they entered the ascending pass through the Cheviot Hills, no pursuers yet visible. Scotland lay on the other side; they would shortly be safe, and he wanted her to know the price of her freedom. “If you won’t blister my ears, I’ll free your mouth.”
    She nodded, and he untied the white linen handkerchief.
    “Well, Johnnie Carre,” she said, businesslike and cool, understanding now why she’d been taken, her fear allayed by her knowledge of the machinations of border politics, “I expect your brother will be home in Ravensby soon. My father wants my money.”
    “I know.” He grinned, his eyes slowly traveling down her body before returning to her face. “And a shame, too, Robbie’s caught, for I wouldn’t mind keeping you myself.”
    His smile infectious, she grinned back, recalling the stories beyond the Laird of Ravensby’s border raids, the ones detailing his amorous exploits.
    “Perhaps I’m rich enough to afford you both.” She surveyed him as slowly as he had her. “Although I’m not at the moment in the market for someone to … keep me. Remember that,” she added in an altogether different tone, a warning that he duly noted. “But if I were,” she went on, the warmth returned to her voice, her green eyes amused, “I’d
certainly
consider you.”
    It stopped him for a moment, the fact that she showed no fear, the additional fact that she propositioned as a man might. And Godfrey’s daughter took on an instant fascination. While he’d previously harbored no designs on her except for her value in Robbie’s release, he found himself suddenly aware of the soft warmth of her bottom bouncing gently on his thighs as they rode hard for the border.
    As instantly, he reminded himself Robbie’s cause came first, and he forcefully set his thoughts into more prudent channels. He couldn’t afford to jeopardize the negotiations; Elizabeth Graham was not to be touched.
    He had all the women he needed, in any event.
    Although his wicked voice of unreason noted, “But none so pale and blond and green-eyed …”
    He abruptly called for a halt then and had her put on her own horse. Never prudent or cautious, in fact self-indulgent and profligate, he didn’t trust his libido against two hours more of Elizabeth Graham’s sweet bottom bouncing on his lap.
    She looked at him with a curious smile a few moments later, when he had her brought alongside his mount and he handed over her reins—as though she knew what he was thinking.
    “You’ll be more comfortable,” he said, his voice dispassionate, courteous.
    “And you, too, I expect.” She wasn’t flirtatious bynature; she was merely stating a fact, although she