Maythorn's Wish (The Fey Quartet Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

gap-toothed smile and his bright eyes and his eagerness to learn. “I should like to continue his lessons.”
    “Then Gavain shall be the first to meet you. Perfect!” Hazel laughed and clapped her hands. “Don’t look so solemn, everyone. Today is a day for rejoicing!”
     
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    MAYTHORN STAYED AT home the rest of that day, and there was pleasure in everything she did, for she had two nimble-fingered hands to prepare the evening meal with, and two clear-seeing eyes to gaze at her beloved daughters with, and when she rose from her bed the next morning, her hip didn’t ache and her strides were brisk and merry. But as the sun climbed in the sky, so too did Maythorn’s nervousness, and by the time the sun was directly overhead, she was fidgeting. She set herself to altering her best kirtle, taking in the seams, adjusting the neckline, changing it from widow’s garb to young woman’s. Once that was done, she fell to turning her thimble over and over between her fingers.
    Ivy eyed her thoughtfully, and said, “Are you all right?”
    Maythorn laid down the thimble and gave a rueful smile. “I confess, I’m a little nervous. I don’t know where my courage has gone! I must have used it all up yesterday.”
    She went to the door and looked out, walked the width of the little room and back, and peeped out the door again. Would Ren accompany his son today?
    Part of her hoped that he would; part of her hoped that he wouldn’t.
    The afternoon ripened. Maythorn made a start at altering her second-best kirtle. The hum of bees in the wildflowers drifted in through the open door. The next time she peeped out, she saw Gavain coming across the meadow, riding on his father’s shoulders. Her nervousness trebled. It was suddenly difficult to breathe.
    Hazel entered the cottage with a skip in her step and closed the door. “Ren’s here with Gavain,” she announced.
    “I know.” Maythorn bundled her sewing away. Her heartbeat was fast and fluttery, her throat dry, her palms damp. She went to the tiny, unglazed window under the eaves and stood on tiptoe and peered out. Ren Blacksmith. The kindest man in the vale.
    Outside, Bess barked a friendly welcome. Bartlemay bounded towards man and child, his tail wagging furiously.
    Maythorn watched Ren pat the great, red-brown hound, watched them walk together along the path, Bartlemay frisking like a puppy. Ren swung his son down from his shoulders. A knock sounded on the door. “Widow Miller?”
    Maythorn glanced at her daughters, ranged about the wooden table. Hazel’s face was alight with glee— She’s enjoying this —but Larkspur looked anxious.
    “Hazel, get the door, please,” Ivy said calmly.
    Hazel trod across the rush-strewn floor, her steps almost dancing— Yes, she’s enjoying this —and flung the door open. “Ren Blacksmith,” she cried gaily. “And young Gavain. Come in, both of you. Mother’s gone to York to visit her brother, but my sisters and I shall teach Gavain his letters.”
    Maythorn pressed herself back into the shadowy corner of the small room, feeling as flustered and shy as a young girl.
    “York?” Ren ducked through the door and entered the cottage. When he straightened, the top of his head came to within an inch of the ceiling. “Is she up to such a journey?”
    “Oh, yes!”
    Ren frowned. “I hope there’s no trouble in the family?”
    “None at all,” Hazel said. “The fact is, our cousin has come to visit, and Mother got the urge to visit back.” She hauled Maythorn forward from the corner. “Meet my cousin, Maythorn.”
    “Pleasure to meet you,” Ren said politely, and then he blinked and became very still.
    “She was named after Mother,” Hazel said cheerfully. “And it’s said she looks just like Mother used to. But you wouldn’t know how Mother used to look! You grew up in Dapple Wei r— ”
    “I met her once.”
    “Did you? Well, then maybe you can remember.”
    Ren made no reply. He stared at Maythorn as if she