"She's very delightful."

"You mean besides in bed."

He nodded. "She's well-read."

"If you had spent more time with her, you would have realized that before."

"I was avoiding her because of Robbie's circ.u.mstances. You had more opportunity to know her."

"Because I don't consider seducing every beautiful woman, you mean?"

"Sorry ... force of habit."

"I don't suppose you've ever considered restraint."

Johnnie looked for a considering moment at his cousin. "Not until yesterday," he replied with a grin.

Munro groaned. "It's going to be a long three days."

Johnnie raised his winegla.s.s to Munro in salute. "But an interesting three days, Cuz. I'm already looking forward to morning."

And the next two days of wedding festivities continued apace, with Johnnie pursuing Elizabeth, Munro playing chaperon, and all three partic.i.p.ants experiencing a high degree of frustration. The Grahams arranged a picnic outing, boat rides on the lake, impromptu races, dances at night, and of course the wedding on Monday afternoon.

Johnnie adhered to his promise of gentlemanly behavior, but that didn't discourage him from attempting to bring Elizabeth into his bed of her own accord. But at the end of two days, he found himself depleted of compliant good humor. And evil-tempered.

Elizabeth had resisted the seductive Laird of Ravensby with all the logic of her sensible nature, but she wasn't immune to the intensity of her emotions. And she lay awake at night, fighting her susceptibility, wishing she could allow herself to give in to her carnal longings.

Munro, for his part, counted the hours while he parried the insinuations and intimations and sat up late into the night protecting Elizabeth Graham from herself. And from his cousin's skillful seduction. He was exhausted by Tuesday morning, when he felt himself being roughly jolted awake.

"She's gone." Johnnie curtly declared. Fully dressed, he stood at the bedside, Munro's shoulder in his savage grip, shaking his cousin awake with an only partially restrained violence. "She left this morning. I wonder if she actually thought she would get away." His fingers tightened.

Munro winced and grunted at the sudden twinge of pain.

Looking down, Johnnie seemed momentarily surprised. "Sorry," he said, releasing his punishing hold and spinning away. He strode to the window overlooking the drive. Gazing at the landscape falling away to the south-to England-for a brief moment, he restlessly tapped his fingers on the pane. Then, turning back to his cousin, he decisively said, "You can come or you can stay. I'm beyond caring what you think, what anyone thinks...."

"An unusual sentiment for you," Munro sardonically murmured.

"A d.a.m.nable aberration, as you well know," Johnnie snapped, testy and exasperated after days of restraint. "But I've finally slipped my leash, Munro, and I'm after her. And don't look at me like that." Raking his hands through hair in an agitated gesture, restive and mutinous, he glared at his cousin, bereft of benevolence after three days of pretense and prevarication. "Thanks to your refined notions of good breeding, I've had a perpetual erection for three days, make it four; the ride down was h.e.l.l. I've been teased and tortured beyond endurance ... holding Elizabeth in my arms on the dance floor, wanting to kiss her luscious mouth, smelling that d.a.m.nable clover-scented soap of Mrs. Reid's that always reminds me of our time together at Goldiehouse, lying awake at night wondering what she's wearing in bed or if she's wearing anything or who's sharing her bed."

At which point Munro's eyebrows rose.

"All right, all right," Johnnie grudgingly agreed, his hand coming up slightly as if to ward off Munro's dissent. "So she sleeps in a d.a.m.ned virginal bed. Do you know," he softly queried, standing very still suddenly, "I almost climbed the tree outside her window simply to watch her." He grimaced in disgust. "I'm like an adolescent in heat. And in my current mood"-his teeth flashed white in a grin and one dark brow rose-"I'd even consider tumbling you, if you weren't so hairy. So I'll have her now or at least try, dammit, like a man instead of a simpering fop. And you can't stop me!"

"You're beyond stopping, I'd say," Munro acknowledged, rubbing his aching shoulder, his voice deliberate, his eyes half-lidded not in sleep but in a.s.sessment.

"At last we agree." An intrinsic air of command colored Johnnie's tone. "Do you ride with me? Or I can ride alone," he added, his voice conciliatory, appeasing his cousin's more decorous nature. "You needn't come if it offends you."

Tossing aside the covers with a sigh, Munro threw his legs over the side of the bed and, heaving himself into a sitting position, gazed at his cousin for a thoughtful moment. "Oh, h.e.l.l ... I'll go. I've been your keeper for three days now. What's a few more hours? At least I can bring your body back if the lady has her Redesdale guards kill you on the spot. Although," he went on with a faint smile, "you're not thinking she ran away because she finds you repulsive?"

"She ran for the same reasons I'm going after her," Johnnie bluntly said. "She can't help herself, nor can I."

"You could be wrong."

"I'll find out then, won't I?"

"Perhaps at the price of your life."

He didn't want to argue with his cousin about the style and degree and manner of Elizabeth Graham's response to him the last few days; accomplished at reading female sensibilities, Johnnie didn't question her interest. The Redesdale guard was another matter, but he doubted Elizabeth would protect her virtue so far as to allow him to be killed. "Nothing so dramatic will transpire," he replied to his cousin's concern. "She's above all a practical woman."

"In which case she'll refuse you."

"We'll see...." In control of his life again now that he'd cast aside his abnormal discipline of the last few days, Johnnie's voice took on a lazy drawl. His unreserved smile appeared, fresh as a morning sunrise. "Or maybe I'll have her instead ... if she doesn't order me skinned alive first."

Elizabeth had left very early that morning, unable to withstand another day of close proximity to Johnnie Carre without helplessly giving in to her yearnings. Restless, disquieted, stretched taut with longing after having Johnnie Carre tempt and seduce her every waking moment during her stay at Hawick, she felt her only option was escape. Or else take the scandalous Laird of Ravensby into her bed before all the watchful Graham guests, which would be tantamount to broadcasting her l.u.s.t to all of Scotland.

Which consideration had ultimately prompted her to flee; last night, lying in bed unable to sleep again, she'd found herself considering the limited range of secluded retreats suitable for an amorous rendezvous, a site safe from prying eyes of guests and servants. And this morning she'd controlled her impulse to walk unannounced into Johnnie's room only because she didn't know its location. Panic-stricken by the intensity of her need, she decided it was time to leave. Short of embarra.s.sing herself by exposing her unsated desire for the Laird of Ravensby before all of Hawick, she simply had no choice.

Once the environs of the Graham country house had been left behind, she'd felt less vulnerable. Instructing her driver to slow the horses to a walk as the road beyond the village narrowed, she'd found herself relaxing.

She was safe. Away from the irresistible Johnnie Carre, beyond the formidable power of his smile and charming ways, a comfortable distance from his unbridled sensuality.

Taking a deep breath, she inhaled the fresh summer air drifting in through the coach's open windows, the day cool but sunny as if the change of temperature since yesterday reflected her own more temperate decision to leave. The tranquility and quiet of the countryside further calmed her, an added degree of serenity returned to her mind, and moderation was once again restored to her life after three days under the tempestuous spell of hot-blooded desire.

She had acted properly in leaving.

The wild and headstrong Johnnie Carre would have shattered her placid domestic existence.

Familiar with every inch of the Borders, Johnnie and Munro rode overland to save precious time, forcing a headlong pace, knowing they could gain easily on a slow-moving coach. Scottish roads were rough tracks off the main routes to Edinburgh, Glasgow, and London; the carriage would travel at no more than walking speed.

A few miles north of the border, where the route pa.s.sed through a small plantation laid out by a local landowner a generation ago, the sound of hard-ridden horses first caught the outriders' attention. Automatically reaching for their weapons, they stopped to listen. Shaded by tall old pines fragrant in the cool early morning air, the narrow road had an air of isolation, separated from the rural countryside by acres of towering trees. An ambush in such remote surroundings was possible; they signaled the coach to stop.

As her carriage came to rest, Elizabeth leaned out of the window, surveyed the quiet lane, and shouted to her driver, "Is there a problem?"

"The outriders, my Lady," her maid said, from her seat beside the driver, where she'd chosen to ride on the glorious morning. "They've heard something."

Scanning the landscape in both directions, Elizabeth saw nothing but trees and a ribbon of dusty road. "Do you hear anything?"

"Not yet, Lady Graham," her driver replied, "but Michael did, else he wouldn't have raised the alarm. Best stay inside until we know for certain."

The summer morning was too idyllic for danger, with birdsong melodic on the crisp air, the bright sunshine luminous ribbons where it gleamed through openings in the pine boughs, wildflowers splashes of color bordering the country road.

An a.s.sault seemed incongruous in such a picturesque setting.

But the sound of galloping horses suddenly reached the coach, and Elizabeth's escort shifted their mounts into a position of readiness, an armed shield against danger.

And moments later, two riders appeared in the distance, traveling fast, racing point-blank at them. As each Redesdale guard sighted his musket on the hors.e.m.e.n, Elizabeth stretched a fraction farther out the window, more curious than frightened. Highwaymen were rare on summer mornings in the country; nor were they generally so bold in their approach. Narrowing her gaze, she focused on the riders. They were too distant yet. Several seconds pa.s.sed as everyone waited in silence, the rhythm of hoofbeats loud in the stillness of the forest. At the moment her captain ordered his men to prepare to fire, she caught a glimpse of windswept black hair, recognized the familiar powerful frame on the horseman in the lead, the colors of the plaid, and hysterically screamed, "Don't shoot!"

Redmond's head snapped around.

"It's Ravensby," she said, breathless, the drama of Johnnie's appearance stunning her. "Don't shoot him!"

"We'll see what he wants," Redmond directed his men. "Keep him in your sights."

"He's not dangerous, Redmond."

"Yes, my Lady." But no one lowered his weapon.

"They might shoot you before you get within speaking range," Munro pointed out as they slowed to a canter, his gaze on the firearms trained on them.

"No risk, no pleasure ..." Johnnie amiably replied, stroking his lathered horse as he brought it to a trot. "Now don't make any sudden moves," he cheerfully instructed. And slowly opening his arms in a gesture of friendship, he showed his weaponless hands to the men guarding Elizabeth, a smile on his handsome face.

"Stop and state your business," Elizabeth's captain shouted, still cautious despite Elizabeth's recognition.

"I'd like a word with Lady Graham," Johnnie casually replied, bringing his horse to a halt.

No! was her first reaction when she heard his words ... Lord, save me, her second. But a flutter of excitement struck her senses separate from any reasonable repudiation. And in the next moment she reminded herself she wasn't a sixteen-year-old child without the means of independent action, but a grown woman capable of dealing with adult dilemmas, with temptation, with infatuation and desire. Surely, a few words with Johnnie Carre would be possible without a complete loss of restraint. After all, she'd kept him at bay for more than two days at Hawick.

But reason and rationalization aside, she found herself drawing in a deep, steadying breath as she placed her hand on the door handle.

The instant the carriage door opened, regardless of a score of muskets pointed at him, Johnnie dismounted, swiftly sliding off his horse before Elizabeth had fully gained the ground. And ignoring the mounted troopers eyeing him suspiciously, he strode toward her.

"You left early, my Lady," he said as he reached her side, his bow polite, his gaze appreciatively taking in her slender dimity-clad form, her short cashmere cape tied under her chin with a symmetrical primness. "Did you tire of the Graham festivities?"

He could have been greeting her outside church, she thought, from his well-bred manner and tone, not standing sweaty, windswept, and casually dressed on a country road miles from home.

Less capable of the politesse that pa.s.sed for feeling in the aristocratic world, she said, "You shouldn't have followed me."

"You shouldn't have left without saying good-bye." His pale blue eyes were angelic.

"I didn't realize a farewell to you was required," she stiffly replied, her voice as studiously cool as her flower-sprigged frock and leaf-green capelet. But the damp linen shirt clinging to Johnnie's muscled frame, the scent of sandalwood from his heated body, his wild dark hair curling on the muted red-and-green plaid draped over one shoulder, disastrously affected her pretense at self-possession.

"I missed you," he plainly said, as if she hadn't offered him a standoffish reply, as if she weren't surrounded by a troop of armed men, as if he rode after ladies every day of his life, when in fact he never had.

"I'm sorry," she said, but her voice was a small, hushed sound. Her eyes lifted to his; she'd never learned the duplicity of flirtation, the mummery of fashionable deceit.

And undisguised desire met his gaze.

"Come talk to me," he murmured, his voice low, intimate, "away from all these people."

"I shouldn't."

"I shouldn't be here, but I am," he countered, insistent, almost a touch of resentment in his tone. "So call off your guards. Come walk with me...." He glanced quickly to where his cousin sat his horse. "Munro will stay as hostage."

Reason no longer held sway; she couldn't help herself. After the minutest pause, she gave orders to her troopers to put away their weapons, dismount, and take their ease. "And I'm not in danger," she finished, thinking even as she spoke how inaccurate her words, for she was in the ultimate peril-in danger of surrendering her heart.

CHAPTER 13.

They walked together down the road a short distance until they were out of sight of the carriage, speaking of the wedding, the weather, neutral topics that could be discussed in bland conversation, avoiding the urgent reasons they were alone on an isolated country road miles from their homes. Until a few moments later Johnnie indicated a trodden gra.s.sy path with a slight gesture of his hand. "There's a small glade down this deer trail. Munro and I rode from this direction," he continued, as though an explanation were required, as though any words mattered. "We won't be disturbed."

An audacious small phrase, pregnant with suggestion.

He was offering her a choice.

"How far is it?" she asked, avoiding the more pressing questions crowding her brain.

"Not far." He smiled faintly. "Your guards can hear you if you call."

"Do you intend to be unmanageable?" she inquired with an answering smile.

"Never."

"In that case," she replied, moving past him down the gra.s.sy way, "I'm quite safe."

A relative expression, Johnnie thought, considering his intentions, but he doubted she was in the mood for such a discussion. Nor was he, with more vital issues on his mind.

They reached the silent green glade rimmed with lacy fern, the soft gra.s.s flattened in places where the deer had slept, the tall pines towering dark above them, the sun warm. And they stood facing each other across a small distance, neither finding the facile words to ease the momentary silence.

Until Johnnie spoke at last, his voice low-pitched and quiet in the sheltered glade.

"This is very awkward."

"You mean women don't usually resist you?"

She could see his grin begin and then as suddenly disappear.

"I don't think so."

His manners were impeccable, she thought, his smile now fully under control. "You don't think so?" The uncomfortable realization that she might be simply another of that vast horde of women impelled her resentment.

He heard the anger in her voice and debated for a moment the merits of honesty. But after playing the courtier for days at Hawick, he was beyond the falsehood and pretense of fashionable flirtation, and he answered, "Actually, no ... they don't."

"Ah ..." she softly exclaimed, the way a cat might pounce on a hapless mouse, "they all fall into your lap then. Is that it?"

He didn't answer that time because the very last thing he wanted to do was fight. He said instead, very slowly, as though the words expressed were not only difficult to say but difficult to understand, "I've thought of you often-when I should have been thinking of other things." He shifted his stance slightly, restive at revealing his feelings. "The business of Parliament is moving Scotland critically toward war or independence," he went on in a carefully modulated tone, "and I'm spending an unconscionable amount of time thinking of you. I shouldn't have come to Hawick. Tweedale is diligently wooing those of the Country party who need money, while I'm here playing the gallant to you."

Elizabeth moved away from him, and he watched her but didn't follow. Mildly resentful of her overpowering allure and the need for such personal disclosures, he kept his distance as she sat down on a fallen tree trunk, although he felt his heartbeat quicken at her action; she wasn't going to run, he realized, or cry for help or resist him. He should have felt more elation.

Looking up at him, Elizabeth spoke so quietly, he had to strain to hear her. "You've disrupted my thoughts, my dreams, my life," she whispered, "since Goldiehouse...." Her hands clasped in her lap were clenched tightly together. "I didn't want to start all over again."