On Gentle Wings Read Online Free PDF Page B

Christopher was
still a braw mon, but he was far too thin to suit. His bottle-green velvet
doublet and fine hose suited his fair coloring, especially his auburn hair and
green eyes, but his short-sleeved jerkin hung loosely on his frame now. She
hadn’t even recognized his gaunt face at first. Lor’ forgie her, Susan thought,
but it’d given her such a fright when he strode in the door!
    She hurried off to the kitchens to tell Cook there would be an
extra for supper and to urge Tofly the carver to choose an especially nice,
plump piece of goose for the master tonight. Och, she hoped Sir Christopher
would stay for more than a day this time. Even the staff had cringed at
Christmas when he’d ridden off, leaving his poor, wee bairns crying in the
yard.
    Meanwhile Kit cut through Ambergate ’s glorious summer
garden, not even pausing to admire the sweetly scented stock. Nor did he spare
a glance for the nodding bluebells, fairy’s glove, or the charming clusters of
pinks lining the mellow brick path. Instead, he traced the shrieks of childish
laughter echoing behind the louse.
    God’s bones , he thought irritably, the least
Isobel can do is stay put after sending such a blistering message! His
first impulse had been to ignore the letter altogether, chalking it up to the
dramatic female nature; but after half-a-dozen attempts to read between the
lines, he’d finally decided to put an end to the mystery and shock the minx by
confronting her in person.
    “Tally ha, tally ho, you’re it!”
    Kit heard his daughter Anne’s triumphant cry as someone else
was tagged in the rose garden.
    “I shall only count to twenty this time!” He heard another
shout in warning, but he knew it to be Isobel by the sweetness belied beneath
the steel. “And we shall likewise use this opportunity to practice your French,
girls. Un, deux, trois …”
    Kit saw three little imps scatter for cover as he rounded
the side of the house. None of his daughters noticed him, being far too intent
upon eluding the “fox.” Anne darted for invisibility behind a stately white
oak; Grace disappeared into the boxwood maze, and four-year-old Maggie crept
beneath a hedge rose.
    “ Vingt! Little hares three, little hares three, come
to me!” Isobel sang out the old rhyme in English this time as she stepped out
from behind a tree.
    Kit was startled by her gypsy appearance. Her wavy ash-brown
hair was unbound, as befitted a maid, but a ragged circlet of wilting Michaelmas
daisies crowned her head. She had tucked up her bright-yellow overskirt in
order to frolic with his daughters, and he caught a shocking glimpse of
petticoats.
    She wore no hose at all. He noted Isobel’s bare ankles were willowy
slender, but rather than boasting ladylike pale flesh, her skin was nut-brown like
a stable lad’s.
    Cautiously she sneaked across the lawn, headed right for the
rose hedge where Maggie crouched, unable to control her giggles. A hint of old
mischief inspired Kit then, and he moved to tiptoe behind Isobel, raising a
cautioning finger to his lips when the toddler’s delighted gaze focused on him
over the young woman’s shoulder.
    Fortunately for him, Isobel believed the little girl’s
helpless laughter resulted from being found and thus she had no warning;
    “Fiddle-dee-dee! A fine fox has me!” Kit seized Isobel round
the waist, and her shriek was more than satisfactory. She whirled around, still
in his grasp, and uttered a very unladylike oath when she recognized him.
    “Cousin Kit!” Her grey-blue eyes rounded, and she quickly
clapped a hand to her mouth. “Ohhh!”
    “Never fear, I shan’t beat you this time,” he said, amused. “Maggie’s
still too green a maid to appreciate the satisfaction of hurling a blunt,
well-timed oath. But I am tempted, Isobel, to thrash you quite soundly
for that impertinent note I received the other day.”
    “Oh, that.”
    “Aye, that.” He sought Isobel’s eyes for a hint of remorse,
but saw none. She felt light as