The Return of the Prodigal Read Online Free PDF

I don’t tarry long enough to see if he drools. And I won’t see him at all when he returns in a few days, because I won’t be here.” She snuggled back against him. “Will you miss me terribly, Rian Becket? They will send Voleta to tend you in my place. She is fat, and smells always of garlic. And she has this huge mole on her chin. With hair in it. Will you like that?”
    He ignored her question for one of his own. “Where will you go, Lisette? Do you have any family left, either here or in England?”
    Again a shrug. “My maman ’s family disowned her for marrying a Englisher. To them I am English. I know nothing about my father’s family, but I will go to England, because France is no longer my home. Perhaps I will go to London and work in a fine shop, selling bonnets, yes? It will be better than here.”
    Rian was quiet for some minutes, and feared that Lisette had fallen asleep before he asked her, “Would you be willing to help me get back to England?”
    She remained still for the space of three of Rian’s heartbeats, and then sat up straight, pulling the sheet up over her breasts. “All Heaven and the saints be praised—the man does listen from time to time. You will leave? Break free of this hidey-hole you seem so willing to remain in forever?”
    “I’m curious about your Comte, but yes, I think I’ve more than overstayed my welcome, whatever the reason behind that welcome. My father will forward our thanks, as well as remuneration for the man’s care of me. Your care of me, Lisette.”
    “But you know that you still need me, Rian Becket,” she said with determination in her voice, tilting up her chin. “I will button your coat if it is cold, cut your meat when you are hungry, guide you when your French fails you. Do not argue, for you know I am right.”
    “I’m not that helpless, Lisette. I can button my own coat. And I do speak and understand some French.”
    “Yes. Filthy words. They are not enough.”
    Rian smiled, remembering the days he would sit with some of the Becket crew who spoke French, and the words he had learned. Like merde. Gautier had invoked that word often as he attempted to untangle fishing nets snarled in the frequent storms off the coast of Romney Marsh. “Perhaps you’re right, Lisette. I only know how to insult the French.”
    “Your English victory insulted us enough,” Lisette said, sliding from the bed to retrieve her night rail, slip it over her head. “But I am happy now, Rian. I will take you to your family, see you safely there. It is agreed.”
    “It is agreed. I’ve already asked you to come with me, remember? Before you began arguing with me. You could stay with us for as long as you like. Indefinitely,” Rian said, coming to a decision even as the words left his mouth. The Beckets were careful who they invited to live at Becket Hall. The outside world had been given very limited access to their stronghold for almost twenty years.
    But Lisette? No one had anything to fear from her.
    And he would miss her, if she were gone.
    “Stay with you?” Lisette pulled a face again. So comical in such a pretty face. Almost delicious. “As your servant?”
    “Only if you wanted to, Lisette. Nobody at Becket Hall forces anyone to do anything they don’t wish to do.”
    “Then this Becket Hall of yours must be tumbling down around its own shoulders. Do you all laugh and sing and play the grasshopper, Rian? There are no industrious ants?”
    It was a simple question, but Rian ignored it, as he had learned to do concerning any question about Becket Hall or the people who lived there. “Once we’re there, you can decide if you want to stay.”
    “And if I wanted to leave?’ she asked, her head cocked to one side.
    “Then I would miss you,” he told her, realizing it was true.
    “Thank you, that is very nice.” She lowered her gaze, as if unsure of how to respond to his statement. “The Comte will be in residence before the week is out. I told you this,