Iris Johansen by The Ladyand the Unicorn Page A

feet out of the water and kicked them vigorously to rid them of excess water before hopping off the rim of the fountain and padding happily toward the courtyard door.
    This time she was met by no less a personage than Fred Stokley, who gave her careless, windblown appearance scarcely a glance before saying with stately dignity, “You weren’t home for lunch. Mr. Santine was most displeased.”
    “I wasn’t hungry,” she said simply, giving him a sunny smile. Even Stokley’s august displeasure couldn’t ruin her feeling of sublime contentment. “I’ll try to be on time for dinner,” she promised. “How much time do I have?”
    There was a flicker of a smile in Stokley’s eyes as he spoke. “A little over an hour. But you should appear at least fifteen minutes early for cocktails. I took the liberty of laying out an appropriate gown.”
    “Right.” Janna nodded, and started across the foyer, her bare feet slapping against the polished parquet tiles. “I’ll hurry, Stokley.”
    “It would definitely be advisable, Miss Cannon,” he said dryly, and she could have sworn there was a thread of amusement in the precise British accent.
    She did hurry. Her shower, shampoo, and blow-drying took only thirty minutes, though her hair was still a bit damp when she swiftly rebraided it.
    Stokley’s choice of an evening gown displayed not only superb taste, but amazing insight into her own preferences. The sunshine-yellow gown was fashioned of a silky jersey, which shimmered rather than shone. It was utterly simple, cut in the Greek fashion, leaving one shoulder bare and then falling gracefully to the floor, giving only a hint of the curves it concealed.The matching yellow satin sandals had only a medium heel, thank goodness. She hadn’t had an occasion to wear high heels since her graduation from college, and these would be bad enough.
    She took one glance in the full-length mirror before she left the bedroom. Not bad. The bright yellow of the gown made her olive skin appear to glow in silken contrast, and her shining brown braid looked quite appropriate with the gown’s classic style. She hesitated a moment, wondering if she should use a touch of lipstick, before deciding firmly against it. Her lips were always a rich, deep pink anyway, and she wouldn’t let Santine think that she’d gone to any extra trouble on his behalf.
    She still had a few minutes to spare when she left the bedroom and made her way down the long curving staircase to the formal living room. She took a deep breath in the arched doorway before moving as unobtrusively as possible into the room.
    The enormous room was carpeted wall to wall in plush, creamy beige carpet that offered a harmonious contrast to the russet-and-chocolate upholstery of the long velvet couch and occasional chairs that were scattered about the room. There were striped cream-and-chocolate throw pillows on the couch and matching striped velvet drapes at the French doors. Though the room was luxuriously elegant, Janna liked it far less than the other rooms in the castle. It lacked the warmth and subtle Spanish touches that gave the other rooms such character. Strange that Santine should choose this formal room to entertain his guests. Or perhaps not so strange, when one came to think about it. Janna had an idea that he was a man who would carefully guard his inner core of privacy with passionate zeal.
    There were perhaps twenty people scattered about the room, obviously engaged in the shallow chitchat that Santine had spoken of so scornfully. She heard a woman’s high, shrill laugh, and flinched involuntarily.It reminded her of the harsh, abrasive squawk of a parrot.
    “There you are, Janna,” Santine said silkily, from behind her. “I was wondering when you were going to make an appearance.”
    She turned to face him, noticing absently how becoming the elegant black tuxedo was on his powerful frame, before her eyes searched his face for the familiar mockery. Surprisingly, she