Wings of the Storm Read Online Free PDF Page A

around his long jaw and chin. "It's Sibelle. She's fifteen. Ripe for marriage, yes, but from what I've heard . . . she was raised in Davington Priory. To pray," he added sardonically. "No one seemed to think she had it in her to be prioress despite her family's wealth. The nuns were turned out of the priory about the same time Baron LeGauche's two sons died. He was left with the girl as an heiress.
    He had need of a husband for the girl, someone to protect her lands. He chose me. He pre-ferred a near neighbor to other alliances he could make. He's ailing, and in difficult times it's best to stay close to home.
    The choice was between me and Hugh of Lilydrake, Hugh's wife being recently dead. The lucky woman," Stephan added. "The baron's a feeling enough father not to want his girl wed to the likes of Hugh. And I'm better connected," Stephan added with a shameless grin.
    Not to mention he was about the cutest thing in the country, Jane added silently, rubbing her own chin to hide a smile. Not that she supposed that counted in the marital transaction. "So you're betrothed to a nun.
    What's that got to do with me. Sir Stephan? I wish to become a nun, remember?"

    "I need a woman to run my household," he told her, waving his hand around the deserted and dirty hall.
    "How can I bring a bride into this muck? Espe-cially a bride with no sense to manage it?" "But—"
    "I'd like to appoint you my chatelaine," he told her before she could go on. "I knew you'd suit as soon as you told me of your life and travels. You're a strong woman. Lady Jehane."
    She found herself scratching her head despite the veil. "But I know nothing about running an estate. I'm from a different land, a different ti—climate. I'm a stranger."
    He didn't seem to care. "You'll manage," he said smugly.
    "What do you mean, I'll manage?" Why was she suddenly running into men who insisted on throwing her into impossible situations?
    "You've survived the Saracens and the journey toEngland," Stephan pointed out reasonably. "Running a manor's only a matter of giving the right orders and keeping accounts. I don't suppose you can read?"
    Jane bristled, snapping out. "Four languages," before thinking about it.
    Stephan's heavy black brows lifted at this state-ment. "Reading's a useful skill. I've no Latin myself, but I can manage French well enough for love poems. You have the skills I need, and I'm offering you a place until the interdict's over." He nodded his stub-bornly set square jaw. "It's settled, then."
    Jane didn't see it that way, but her protest wasn't heard since the dogs suddenly started yapping again.
    Several of them bounded up to the screen doorway, one of them knocking a stack of peat into the already smoking fire as it lunged forward. The smoke drifted inexorably toward the dais. Jane quickly tucked the end of her veil over her mouth and nose so she wouldn't start coughing from smoke inhalation.
    Melisande had stiffened. It was clear she had seen something. She came and stood protectively next to Stephan's chair. The knight had to push her aside to rise to his feet. Jane looked eagerly toward the entrance, straining through the hearth smoke for a better view of what all the excitement was about.
    She was rather disappointed when a horde didn't come rushing into the great hall. Instead, a grizzled old guard came limping in, his ring-sewn leather jerkin jingling as he made his jerky way toward the dais.
    Jane sat back with a sigh that was mostly one of relief. Apparently the peasants were not revolting.
    Maybe the hounds were just bored. She bent over to disconnect the tangled puppy from her hem once more.
    "My lord," the guard said as he came up to Stephan. "Sir Daffyd—"
    "Is perfectly capable of announcing himself."
    "—ap Bleddyn," the guard Finished lamely.
    The voice that had interrupted the guard was deep,
    rich, and amused. The sound of it made Jane think of heavy cream and dark chocolate even before she looked up to see the tall blond man who'd