Read Online The King's Falcon (Roundheads & Cavaliers Book 3) by Stella Riley - Free Book Online

weigh more heavily than usual, Ashley strove to restore his mental balance by letting himself drift briefly into a memory.   Anything would do so long as it was far removed from the all-too-frequent responsibility he bore for the lives of men … both the ones he did his damnedest to save in battle and the ones he’d occasionally been required to snuff out in secret.   The latter had a nasty habit of crawling wraith-like from the shadows of his mind when he tried to snatch a couple of hours sleep. And when telling himself that he’d never killed anyone he hadn’t had to didn’t banish them, he summoned brighter times to push them back into the dark.
    It was a well-practised trick and one that generally served him well.   Unfortunately – and for no good reason that he could think of – when he employed it these days the image that came to mind was always the same.   The image of a slender, red-haired girl in a blue gown, illuminated by a dozen candles.   In one sense, this was highly enjoyable.   In another, it was bloody aggravating – because indulging in mildly erotic fantasies whilst sharing quarters with Francis and Nicholas was not just ridiculous but potentially downright embarrassing.
    So he gritted his teeth, shoved Athenais de Galzain back with the other spectres … and lay open-eyed, staring into the dark.
    *   *   *
    Lichfield and Wolverhampton fell gradually away behind them … then Kidderminster and Hartlebury.   And on Friday August 22 nd , having marched three hundred miles in three weeks, they arrived at the gates of the one place they felt might actually welcome them.   Worcester; the first city to declare for Charles 1 and one of the last to surrender.   A jewel set between the Severn and the Teme, backed by the Malvern hills … and known, proudly, as the Loyal City.
    It was a place Ashley Peverell knew very well indeed.   For the truth – which not even Jem Barker knew – was that his home lay not a dozen miles distant.
    He hadn’t been near it since the day, shortly after Naseby, when – with their father scarcely cold upstairs – his elder brother had calmly announced that he was turning his coat to the winning side before they lost everything.   There had been a monumental row and Ashley had left before the funeral.   That had grieved him – but, at the time, it had seemed better than watching James lick the Parliament’s boots and overturn everything their father had stood for.  
    Worse was to come.   When he went back a few weeks later, ready to apologise for his loss of temper and to suggest that he and James could somehow manage their differences with a degree of civility, it was to discover that the girl to whom he had given his heart – and who he’d believed had given hers to him – had decided a baronet with a tidy estate would suit her better than a virtually penniless younger son.   In short, she’d married his brother.
    Now, however, was no time to think of that.   Although people were flooding out to greet them, there were still all the usual formalities to be gone through and the matter of Parliament’s small garrison to be dealt with before the army could enter the city – all of which probably amounted to a minor action, followed by yet another night under canvas.   And that, when one was responsible for tired, dispirited troopers whose clothes were in ruins and some of whom lacked shoes, was all that should concern one.
    Sufficient to the day , Ashley told himself firmly as he formed the freshest of his men into an advance party.   But as he entered the city, he still couldn’t help hoping that he didn’t meet anyone who knew him.
    He didn’t.   And, aided by droves of enthusiastic citizens, ejecting Lambert’s five hundred men proved a relatively simple matter.   Watching them ride hell for leather in the direction of Gloucester, Ashley was aware that he ought to order some sort of pursuit.   Unfortunately, he also knew that his fellows