The Whispering Night Read Online Free PDF

buffoon.
We'll chase him away before the night is out, just as we have done the others.
You will see."
    Derica's expression was
pensive, thoughtful, as she braided the ends of her hair. Her fingers would
move quickly, then slow, then speed up again, then more slowly as her thoughts
progressed.
    "I have a feeling
he'll not be run off," she said after a moment. "He is not like the
others who have come to call upon me."
    "Of course he is.
We'll have him gone in the blink of an eye."
    Derica cast her brother
a long look in the reflection of her looking mirror. "You cannot run him
off, Dix."
    "Why not?"
    "Because we are
betrothed." She secured the end of the braid and turned around. "The
other suitors that have come were merely that- suitors. Sir Garren and I have a
contract to be married, legal and binding. You cannot get rid of him, no matter
how much you want to."
    Dixon chewed his lip
angrily. "Hoyt will."
    "He doesn't like to
be called that and you know it."
    Dixon rolled his eyes.
"I have never been able to call him that."
    "What?"
    "That."
    Derica fought off a
smile. "He is not been right since that blow to the head three years ago,
has he? It still takes some getting used to."
    "I cannot call him
Lady Cleo Blossom, no matter how much he wants me to."
    Derica stood up, facing
her brother. "It matters not what you want. What matters is that if we do
not call him Lady Cleo Blossom, he will become quite angry and, you will
recollect, quite violent. He is perfectly harmless as long as you do as he
wishes."
    Dixon put up a hand.
"I know, I know," he sighed. "For the greatest warrior among us
to take a blow to the head at a tourney and wake up thinking he is a woman
is... is...."
    "I have heard this
before, darling."
    "It is
tragic!"
    "I know. But it
'tis God's will that our beloved Uncle Hoyt has become the Lady Cleo Blossom. 
We may not know the reasons now, but perhaps in time, it will become
clear."
    Dixon grumbled.
"Woman or not, he still packs a wallop. And as protective as he is over
you, perhaps Sir Garren will feel that wallop before the night is out.  The
beauty of it is that he wouldn't dare strike a woman back."
    Derica didn't say any
more. Her brothers and uncles were always hostile where suitors were
concerned.  Normally, they had her blessing to do anything necessary to drive
the fools away. But Sir Garren was different; half of her wanted him to leave,
but the other half was quite interested in him.
    She thought about him,
standing on the battlements, the soft breeze blowing through his hair and the
moonlight reflecting off his features. He had laughed at one point and the
sight of his smile had made her feel strangely weak. No man had ever had that
effect on her, and she'd known many to come to Framlingham on the quest to gain
her hand.  They'd tried every known trick, every known charm. But she hadn't
fallen for it.
    What made Garren
different, she didn't know. But she didn't feel like seeing him this eve.  She
didn't want him to go, she didn't want him to stay, she didn't want to speak
with him, yet she felt the strange urge to be in the same room with him.  She
decided, at that moment, that she was going mad.
    "Go down to the
hall and give father my message," she didn't want her brother standing
there watching her in her moment of dementia. "Tell him I have retired for
the night."
    "You're sure?"
    "Absolutely."
She smiled at her brother's dubious face. "Please. Go now."
    He left, reluctantly. 
Aglette slipped in when Dixon left and began preparing Derica's bed for sleep.
One of her duties was to brush out her mistress' hair. Even though Derica had
recently done just that, she was so lost in thought that she hardly realized
when Aglette unbraided her hair and began running the comb through it again.
     
    ***
     
    "I fear I have said
something to upset you."
    The voice came from the
shadows. Derica was so startled that she nearly fell off her chair.  She'd been
dozing by the fire in her chamber, having no