Wings of the Storm Read Online Free PDF

followed the guard into the room. The dogs had quieted their barking, but their attention was centered warily on the broad-shouldered newcomer.
    Jane didn't blame them a bit. He radiated danger far more than the fire radiated heat. There was

    some-thing about the man's swaggering walk and the proud thrust of his jaw that spoke volumes about his arro-gant self-importance. He had an aquiline, if slightly crooked, nose that seemed tailor-made for looking down. The shoulder-length gold hair that framed his face resembled a lion's mane. He was dressed in full chain mail with a belted black surcoat pulled on over the heavy armor.
    Coming to a halt in front of Stephan, he rested one spurred boot on the dais and leaned forward, the fin-gers of his left hand curled loosely around the pom-mel of his sword. Jane couldn't help but notice how large and competent that hand looked. He squinted through the murk at Sir Stephan.
    "I've some news about your bride," he said in his deep, richly accented voice. He peered around Stephan at where Jane sat. "If you want to hear it," he added.
    His deep voice held only the faintest hint of insinu-ation, but it was enough to make her go hot with out-raged embarrassment. Stephan's back muscles tensed as he moved so that he was between her and Sir Daffyd.
    "The lady is the widow of Sir Geoffrey FitzRose," Stephan informed the knight coolly. "A kinswoman from thekingdomofJerusalem. My chatelaine," he added, throwing a look over his shoulder for Jane. She gave an unconscious shrug in reply.
    Sir Daffyd nodded curtly. "Lady," he rumbled. "Welcome. About the girl?" he went on.
    The man was big and impressive and wore an air of danger like an invisible cloak around his shoul-ders.
    Jane was glad of the shadows and smoke that obscured the room, glad Stephan stood between her chair and the warrior at the foot of the dais. There was an air of disdainful pride about him she found threatening. He scared her without having done any-thing more than walk in tHe room and casually glance her way. She didn't suppose the combination of fear and fascination she was experiencing made any sense. But it reminded her that she was in a time when brute strength counted for a great deal, where men with swords took what they wanted. In 2002 the idea of needing a man to protect her was ludi-crous. But this was 1200 something, and she knew she was fortunate to have a chivalrous warrior to champion her.
    Cheeks still flushed, she looked away from Sir Daffyd's face and caught sight of the insignia decorat-ing his black surcoat. On the right shoulder of the black wool garment was embroidered a gold lion; a red dragon decorated the left. Jane interpreted the symbols to mean the knight was a Welshman in the service of the English king. She recalled that Daffyd was a Welsh name.
    The old servant appeared with another wooden tankard of ale. Daffyd took it and drained it before tossing it back. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, then spoke to Stephan again. "I stopped at Sturry on my way fromCanterbury. The baron's
    dying. He's not likely to last long and wants the girl settled. He asked me to escort the child's party to you." He made a sour face. "But my orders are to gar-rison my men in Reculver."
    "Still hunting Sikes and Pwyll and their men?" Stephan asked.
    The Welshman nodded.
    Stephan turned to Jane to explain, "The brigands I was telling you about. Sir Daffyd's been sent by our lord John to—"

    "Ride over the local barons and threaten the arch-bishop in my spare time," Daffyd interrupted. "But hunting the outlaws has more sport in it." Stephan laughed and Daffyd joined him. "You better fetch the girl yourself," he went on. "Before your neighbor snatches the heiress for himself."
    "Hugh of Lilydrake isn't getting his hands on my marriage prize," Stephan said. "I'll leave for Sturry in the morning." He gestured around the hall. "Accept my hospitality for the night. Sir Daffyd."
    The Welshman straightened and backed two