Where Love Has Gone Read Online Free PDF Page B

girl,” said Cadwallon with a smile of
approval for her sensible garb. After helping Elaine into the
saddle, he seized the reins of his own horse from Ewan, then
mounted and turned toward the gate.
    Desmond was conversing with his squire. While
Elaine waited for him, she was able to overhear part of what they
said, beginning with the squire’s insistence that he ought to
accompany his master.
    “You are to stay here, Richard,” Desmond
ordered. “I want you and Ewan to continue asking questions of the
servants and the other squires.”
    Elaine’s horse began to prance just then, out
of eagerness to be moving, and she was hard put to control the
beast, so she heard no more of Desmond’s instructions to
Richard.
    They rode through the gate and onto the path
that dipped toward the bottom of the ridge on which the manor house
sat. When the path split in two, with one fork continuing down the
slope into Gorey village, they took the other fork, the rough track
that climbed north and west. Around them spread the rugged,
sometimes precipitous landscape, with the sea far below them on
their right. Any streams ran southward, to the lower land and into
the sea, gradually cutting ravines as they went.
    The three riders eventually reached a point
on the track where they were able to look directly across to the
manor. Elaine thought she could appreciate how the view appeared to
the two men, for she and Aglise had occasionally stopped during
their rides together to reflect on the surprisingly formidable
structure. The manor was built of solid stone and the high wall
around it contained few openings, though on such an island, there
was little need for protection from invaders. Anyone approaching
Jersey could be seen for miles.
    Suddenly, as if to defy the weight of all the
stone, a pigeon flew up from the courtyard and headed eastward over
the sea, toward Normandy. Elaine smiled to see it and wondered if
the bird felt a sense of freedom.
    Below the manor, Gorey village clung to a
strip of land between the sea and the lowest slope of the hill. A
few boats were drawn up on the beach and, beyond them, the sea lay
impossibly blue and glittering in the April sunshine. Elaine
noticed a few fishing boats in the distance, riding on the gentle
swells.
    “I hadn’t appreciated how high the land is,”
Desmond said from where he sat his horse close beside her.
    “Most of this northern side of the island is
upland that ends in cliffs,” Elaine explained. “There are some
beaches at the bottom of the cliffs, but they are difficult to
reach and the tides are so treacherous that almost no one ventures
there. Lord Bertrand sent men-at-arms to search for Aglise down on
the beaches in case she had fallen off the cliff, but they found no
sign of her and one search party was almost swept away when the
tide came in. They barely escaped with their lives. After that,
Lord Bertrand refused to risk his men again. I think he was right
to search elsewhere. If you want safer beaches, hidden coves,
places where a small boat might land, you will have to look on the
southern shore.”
    As they rode along Elaine noticed Cadwallon
casting a knowledgeable eye on the plowed fields, where large
swaths of the interior of the island were cleared for farming. The
open areas were dotted with small, but well-kept houses. The pale
green of newly sprouted wheat and barley, the pink buds on the
apple trees, and the yellow-green or reddish tinges of unfurling
leaves in the forested areas all added delicate springtime color to
the scene. The sky was clear blue, misty along the distant horizon,
and the breeze from the sea was soft, for the hour was still
early.
    Elaine was used to the landscape. She was
much more intrigued by Desmond, though she struggled against the
attraction she felt toward him. Desmond would very likely think she
was a dreadful person to be taking pleasure in a man’s presence
when she ought to have nothing on her mind except finding her
sister.
    He could