Broken Wing Read Online Free PDF Page B

trouble keeping his footing, or the contents of his stomach as the ship rolled and pitched beneath him. When rough weather approached, he found his way up on deck, turning his face into the wind as it whipped spray over the bulwark and onto the deck, soaking his clothes and hair and splashing his hands and face. The wind was sweet as music to him, making the little ship sing as it whistled and shrieked through the rigging, setting off a wild staccato of flags andpennants flapping madly overhead. He felt at home, in his element. The ocean called to him, and something resonated deep inside.
    Turning around, he was taken aback to find Sarah on deck, clutching the rail. As soon as he saw her, he turned to leave.
    “Please don’t go on my account, monsieur. I would enjoy the company. It’s magnificent, is it not?” she asked with a brilliant smile, almost shouting, straining to be heard over the din. “I feel so alive when it’s like this, as if I’m a part of it. I feel like I could fly.”
    “I am surprised, mademoiselle, that your brother, or the captain, allow it,” he said sourly.
    She grinned and brushed away a stray lock of hair. “Oh, Ross knows better than to forbid me, and I’m well acquainted with the ocean. Is this your first time at sea?”
    “Yes, mademoiselle,” he allowed.
    “Please, call me Sarah.”
    “No, mademoiselle.”
    “Well, stop calling me mademoiselle at any rate, Gabriel, because I am, in fact, a widow.”
    “I am sorry, madam,” he said with a courtly bow, impressive given the pitching deck. “Might I remark that you seem a rather merry type of widow to me?”
    “Well,” she said, “in truth I didn’t care for Lord Munroe very much, and although I didn’t wish him dead, I would be a hypocrite to say it causes me any undue sorrow.” Leaning into the rail, she closed her eyes and raised her face to the spray.
    He couldn’t help but notice that the damp was making her dress cling in an interesting fashion. It fueled a flicker of hunger that alarmed him. It would not do to allow any interest. Used to controlling his responses, he took a deep breath and suppressed it. If she really was a lady, she would not appreciate or reciprocate the attentions of a prostitute. If she wasn’t, she would find that he’d not left Madame Etienne’s to be a whore, for her, or for anyone else. “I believe I was brought here to entertain your brother, madam, not you. If you will excuse me, I am done with taking the air.” Turning on his heel, he left.
    “Well!” Sarah said to herself with a snort and a blink, momentarily annoyed by his rudeness. Nevertheless, it really was a magnificent day and as the storm whipped, howled, and tugged at her hair, she forgot the annoying Monsieur St. Croix. Letting her head fall back, she laughed into the wind.
    Turning for a last look, Gabriel stood riveted. He’d thought her handsome, rather than beautiful, but at that moment she appeared elemental, like some ancient goddess of the sea, and he felt something dangerous stir within.

    With the storm, the journey from Paris to Falmouthtook a little over five days. As Gabriel approached his new home, he felt a growing sense of wonder. The large, two-story manor house stood on a bluff, nestled along a wild stretch of coast above cliffs that fell sheer to the pale sands and rocky shore below. It looked out across the channel, with banks of windows throughout to capture the ocean vista and the rising and setting of the sun. It took full advantage of its aspect, with terraces and gardens surrounding the house, and broad balconies abutting the second floor. He noted numerous well-worn paths along the cliff edge leading down to the wild beach. Creamy-flowered magnolia trees and the tangy musk of pine and sea joined in a heady fragrance that reminded him, somehow, of Lady Munroe. He supposed he was as close to heaven as he was ever likely to get.
    He was given a well-appointed room next to Jamie’s, and introduced as