. ’ ‘I imagine it must be a relief to you, after so lucky an escape. ‘Are you going to come quietly, mademoiselle?’ he demanded with grim determination. She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave. She was clad in fresh linen, but still wore the riding-habit she had appropriated, having sponged out the spots of blood late last night and left it to dry in the kitchens. Will you answer me a question first?” “If I can,” Ennison said. ” “It isn’t necessary,” they both declared breathlessly. If a cart were coming, or those labourers in the field had heard, escape was impossible.
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