To Tame the Wind (Agents of the Crown Book 0) Read Online Free PDF Page B

a costumed courtesan. Not all of his assignments were unpleasant.
    Elijah raised his head and the wind whipped stray, gray
hairs around his face. “Smilin’ at the rain, Cap’n?”
    “No, ’twas just a memory. What of the arrangements on
shore?”
    “I knew ye’d be anxious to be off, Cap’n, so before we left
France fer Rye, we arranged for a post chaise and team to be waitin’ fer ye.
Giles can see to those while I secure the skiff.”
    The thin sailmaker nodded. His tricorne, beaded with rain,
shadowed his features, save for his stubbled jaw. “Aye, Cap’n, ’tis all
organized.”
    In short order, they reached the shore and the skiff was
stowed. Soon, they were in the carriage and hurtling down the road to Paris,
mud flying in all directions.
    By the time they reached Saint-Denis, it was evening.
Encouraged by extra coin, the coachman had driven hard, stopping only to change
horses. The sleep they’d managed was much disturbed by the rutted road, but it
was enough. And they’d have hot food before it was time to seek out their prey.
     

Chapter 4
     
    Saint-Denis
     
    Exhausted, Claire finished the letter to her papa, set the
paper on the bedside table and blew out the candle.
    The half-dozen older students in her chamber were already
asleep on their narrow beds. One of the most senior of the convent’s boarding
students, she enjoyed her role as a dizainière , a pupil-teacher, with
younger students to look after. It meant her days were full and they left her
with little enthusiasm for conversation when she sought her bed after Vespers.
    Claire undressed in the dark room. Echoing through the
walls, Claire could hear the soft voices of the nuns singing at Compline in the
chapel. It was a soothing, familiar sound. One day soon, she would join them.
    Would she be a good nun? In the past two years she had tried
hard to repress her secret longings so that she might become an acceptable
postulant. She had not always succeeded. The memory of a golden man and the
craving for a life beyond the convent’s walls and a home where she could put to
use all the nuns had taught her still lurked, hidden in the recesses of her
mind. When the cravings taunted her, she would remember her vow to a dying
girl.
    Would Élise, looking down from Heaven, be pleased? And what
of Papa’s plans? If he knew his only daughter intended to join the Order, would
he agree? Or might he still insist she wed? She had wondered whom her papa had
selected. Since her meeting with the Reverend Mother, Sister Angélique had told
her the man was a lawyer in Paris. She shoved aside the curiosity it roused.
Like her secret longings, it was not to be.
    She rubbed her eyes. Worry over her conversation with the
Reverend Mother and the nightmares that came often had robbed her of sleep for
days. And this day had been full. After her classes, she had accompanied Sister
Angélique to the village for shopping. Upon her return, she had sought a quiet
place to rest for a few minutes, but her mind was filled with what she must tell
her papa in the letter she knew she must write. Surely he would understand why
she could not marry.
    When the afternoon began to wane, she had drawn on what
little patience she’d had left and helped the younger girls with their work
before joining the others to set the table for the evening meal. Afterwards,
she was so weary she had to pinch herself twice during Vespers to stay awake.
But she had not allowed herself to pursue her rest until she had composed the
letter to her papa.
    Weariness crept over her like a heavy cloak, dragging her
down. She was too tired to think more about her future this night. The solace
of her bed called to her. Perhaps tonight the nightmares—the wretched dreams of
Élise gasping out her last breaths—would not come.
    She reached for her nightgown, a pale swath lying across the
foot of her bed, illuminated by the moonlight shining through the glass panes
of the only window in the room. In the