Susan Johnson Read Online Free PDF Page B

could answer, the familiar voice of her captor spoke from behind her.
    “Good evening, Janet.” John Carre’s voice from the direction of the doorway was without inflection or emotion, mild, infinitely courteous. “Let me introduce you to Lady Graham,” he said, his long stride bringing him swiftly near, “although I see you’ve informally met. Lady Graham, Countess Lindsay, a neighbor of mine.” A small courtly bow made the women known to each other. “Your father has had some official Border transactions with Countess Lindsay’s husband, the Earl of Midlothian,” he said to Elizabeth, the scent of his cologne close, momentarilydiverting her attention. “Now if you’ll excuse us, Janet, I’ll see Lady Graham to her quarters. The ride has tired us all.” An experienced man with women, he was never impolite, but beneath his temperate voice was a distinct authority.
    “I’ll wait dinner for you.” Janet Lindsay’s directness was intentional. She knew Johnnie well enough to know he’d decline making a scene in public.
    His hesitation was minute, and then he quietly said, “Give me ten minutes to wash away the mud from the ride.”
    Ravensby’s Laird seemed engrossed on their journey through the labyrinthine corridors of the castle, unresponsive enough that the steward had to twice repeat his questions concerning Lady Graham’s luggage or lack of it.
    “Have Mrs. Reid find her some clothing,” Johnnie answered at last, clearly not entirely focused on the present. Even his pace was slightly too fast for Elizabeth and the steward. “Do you need anything?” His query to Elizabeth reflected his remoteness as well, the nature of his words no more than a formality.
    “No … nothing, except perhaps something to read. The wait could be dull.” She didn’t expect an answer with his detachment so obvious, but at least the steward would be aware of her request.
    Something in her words must have caught his attention, for he seemed to notice her for the first time since their journey began up the stairways and through the corridors of Goldiehouse, although he didn’t slow his gait. “You needn’t be locked up, Lady Graham. If you give me your parole, you’ll have your freedom of the castle and grounds.” It was a normal procedure with hostages; the Borderers were ever gallant to their political guests. But she would be housed in the tower room against the possibility of an attack from Godfrey.
    “In that case, naturally, you have my word.” Approaching the third level of stairs, Elizabeth took a fortifying breath.
    His breathing unhurried, fitness a requirement for border-raiding, John Carre smiled at her, disarming andconciliatory. “I hope you’ll find your sojourn at Goldiehouse pleasant. Dankeil Willie will see to your wishes. Ask him for anything. A maid should be waiting for you in your chambers. The cooks are capable of most delicacies; simply put in your requests. Have I forgotten anything, Willie?”
    “The wines, Johnnie.” Kinship of various degrees related everyone under the Laird of Ravensby, and he was addressed with familiarity.
    Johnnie smiled back at Willie, who was following them at a comfortable trot, his wiry body perhaps the result of the castle’s miles of stairways. Regardless that England was at war with France, the Scottish Parliament had chosen to remove the restrictions on trade in French wines. 3 “We have French wines, while the English have to smuggle them in,” Johnnie explained to Elizabeth as they reached the top of the stairs, “so feel free to ask for your favorites. Our supply of hock is excellent, too, since the English and Dutch secured the Rhine last fall. Willie prides himself on his palate, so let him guide you if you’re uncertain.”
    Willie’s beaming expression offered his expertise with sincere warmth, and Elizabeth allowed herself to be tempted. “I put myself completely in your hands, Willie.”
    “Very good, my Lady.” Clearly he was