Susan Johnson Read Online Free PDF

couldn’t help but smile a bit at the Laird of Ravensby’s devilish dilemma. From all reports he was a man whose dalliances with women were legion. And now he was forced to curb his carnal instincts, or his brother might be put in jeopardy.
    “You shouldn’t be at Ravensby long.” His hair lay like dark silk on the embossed silver of his shoulder armor.
    “No, I won’t.” They were both practical people at base; they understood what was at stake. Her father would never chance losing her fortune for one man in his dungeons, however illustrious his family.
    “We’ll send a message to your father from Uswayford.” His horse, recognizing his restless unease, curveted beneath him, held in place only by Johnnie’s firm grip on the reins.
    “Two days, then, at the most,” Elizabeth casually remarked, “need I impose on your hospitality.” Her voice was as polite as his, as though they were discussing a country holiday.
    “No more than two, I agree,” Johnnie said, holding his horse in check.
    He had beautiful hands, Elizabeth noted, large, tanned, his fingers graceful, strong. “Maybe even less,” she added, his physical presence suddenly disturbing her.
    He didn’t answer, only nodded.
    Not much time, his wicked voice of unreason whispered.
    Abruptly loosening his grip on the reins, he straightened as the black barb he favored leaped forward, leaving the beautiful, pale-haired Elizabeth Graham behind.
    Safely behind.
    And he didn’t speak to her again until they reached Ravensby.



CHAPTER 4
    Goldiehouse, a fortified castle much altered over the years into the embellished baronial style, offered a flamboyant display of European architectural fashion from the Gothic to the neoclassic. Dramatically situated in a parkland by the River Tweed, the structure had evolved into a full quadrangular complex and was, Elizabeth thought, the most princely home she had ever seen.
    The local stone of its walls glowed golden in the setting sun, splendid against the dark pine and new-leafed beeches of the parkland, while its windows glittered like jewels.
    No rough Border chieftain resided here, she thought as the troop clattered into the large paved courtyard, more like a Renaissance prince, from the magnificence of his establishment.
    Scores of retainers poured out into the courtyard to assist the returning company, and Elizabeth found herself helped from her horse by no fewer than four servants. In the bustle and commotion of troopers dismounting she looked for sight of Ravensby’s Laird but caught noglimpse of him. Threading her way through the crowd of men and horses, Elizabeth was led inside through a heavy studded door, originally constructed in the days when the keep needed to be defended. A large entrance hall rose around her like a treasure cave, the walls hung with rich tapestries, its ribbed Gothic ceiling of arched wood forty spectacular feet above her, a fireplace dominating one wall, a blazing fire taking the chill from the room.
    Across the hall a woman stood on a small rise of flagstone stairs leading from the room, her presence conspicuous in the emptiness of the enormous space. Dark-haired, fair-skinned, slender, and beautiful, gowned in sapphire cashmere, she gave the appearance of the castle chatelaine.
    “You won’t be here long, I expect,” the woman said, her cold voice carrying in the silence.
    Elizabeth hadn’t anticipated heartfelt welcome in the home of her father’s enemies, but neither had she contemplated such hostility. The Laird of Ravensby had treated her with courtesy. Who was this woman? “I hope to be released very soon,” she replied as she approached the stairs. Sensing an air of disquietude in the small, middle-aged man escorting her, she quickly glanced at his face and found he was blushing beneath the weathered bronze of his skin.
    “Has he touched you?”
    There was no mistaking the umbrage in the woman’s tone or the identity of the man referred to, but before Elizabeth