On Gentle Wings Read Online Free PDF

shall
shortly no longer be here to attend to their welfare.
    What the devil did she mean by that? What was all this
nonsense about décolletage? And where the hell did Isobel think she was going?
With an exasperated noise, Kit tossed the letter aside.
    He had no patience for games. If he were to earn his way in
Bess’s court and continue to secure the favors and funds necessary to maintain
his family’s lifestyle, then be must dance attendance upon the aging Tudor
queen until his kneecaps turned black and blue.
    Damme, Isobel knew that. She was a bright little wench,
wasn’t she? Aye, she was. Then why this letter, practically dripping with poisonous
barbs and subtle insults? He’d never thought Isobel resembled his late wife in
the slightest manner, but now he was starting to wonder,
    Elspeth, Kit believed, had suffered from a sickly mind. Thus,
he had forced himself to be kind to her over the years, no matter how much it
tried him. His brothers, he knew, had never understood why he had not handled
his wife as firmly as he did his horses, for Kit never tolerated disobedience
from a beast, much less a hostile kick or bite.
    From his wife, he had taken all three and even more over the
years. But she was gone now, mercifully returned to the soil from whence she
had come, at least if one believed the Good Book. And he was free at last.
    But the realization brought no joy or even relief for Kit
was numb. Even his brothers had noticed a change in him, and two of them
remarked upon the fact at Christmas. He wished now be hadn’t bothered to visit
George and Phillip. They’d informed him he was too thin and too and that he
needed to get away from court for a while. Jesu! What did they know?
    George, the family baron, had a plump, pretty little wife
named Dilys who kept him warm on winter nights, and probably tickled his fancy
in summertime, too. Phillip Tanner had wed a beautiful Yorkshire heiress the
previous year and was contentedly awaiting the birth of his first child. No
doubt it would be a son.
    His third brother, Slade, had recently moved to Ireland with
his wife, Bryony, and thus Kit had mercifully been spared another lecture.
Slade was closest to him and they had always looked after one another’s interests,
but Kit knew his baby brother would not have let the opportunity pass to urge
him to wed again and secure an heir for Ambergate .
    Marriage was the last thing on Kit’s mind. God’s teeth, he’d
enough trouble just trying to pacify Bess. The aging queen seemed in a rare
temper nowadays; but then, when hadn’t she been? Nothing pleased Bess anymore
except her music, but of late even her virginals had begun to bore her and she
constantly complained they were out of tune.
    It seemed an ironic commentary on life that he and England’s
Domina shared a similar fate. The world pressured them both to marry, heedless
of their wishes and dreams. But he had already sampled hell, thank you. If Bess
Tudor still longed for marriage as she claimed, then she was not only a fool,
but a bloody idiot as well.
     

Chapter Three
     
    “ W here is she?”
    Kit brushed past the gaping maid in the hall and pivoted,
waiting for a reply while he stripped a pair of cream kid riding gloves from
his hands.
    “Well, Susan, speak up. I received a most urgent missive
from Isobel, and I’ve come as she so bluntly demanded, though doubtless not
quick enough to suit her.”
    “Sir C-Christopher,” the maid stammered, pale as oat
porridge and still gawking at Kit as if he were a ghost. “Saints preserve us,
yer really here.”
    “Of course I am. Whom else did you expect? By the rood,
girl, speak up! I must be back to court tomorrow. Where is she?”
    Susan blinked and pointed to the door. “Out behind the
house, sir, playing fox-and-hare with the girls.” She continued to gawk after
Kit as he spun on his boot heel and stalked outside, slapping his gloves
impatiently on his thigh as he went.
    Sweet Saint Anne! Susan mused. Sir