Read Online Fire Raven by Patricia McAllister - Free Book Online Page B

sigh of surrender. “’Tis raining again, dearie. You’ll need a warm cloak, as well.”
    “Is there one here? I shall, of course, pay for it as well.”
    “Aye, I’ll fetch it.” Resigned, Winnie went to retrieve the cloak. It had belonged to Lady Elena, too. No other women, save for herself, Cook and a few maid servants, had lived at Falcon’s Lair since Morgan’s mother died.
    Winnie fetched the cloak from the wardrobe and stroked the soft, fine black wool cape with its French hood. Cloaks did not go out of fashion as quickly as gowns. She crossed the room and draped it about Kate’s rigid shoulders.
    Kate sniffed with faint surprise. “It smells of damask rose.”
    “It belonged to Lord Trelane’s mother. ’Twas her favorite scent.”
    “His mother? He never mentioned her. Where is she now?”
    “Lud, she died, miss. Long ago.”
    As Winnie hoped, Kate asked no more questions.
    “If you’ll be so kind as to help me downstairs one last time, Winnie, I will be on my way.”
    “Best let me fasten the cloak for you, dear. ’Tis chilly outside.”
    It didn’t occur to Kate to be suspicious about Winnie’s complacent assistance, not even when she was bid a calm farewell and left outside in the drizzling rain. Winnie kindly turned her in the right direction before she left, yet the moment Kate swiveled about to wave goodbye, she was disoriented. She felt dampness from the soggy earth already seeping up through her thin leather soles. Rain drizzled down her neck. She tugged the hood of the cape up over her hair.
    Despite the chill and miserable weather, it felt good to be thumbing her nose at Trelane’s hospitality. Her break for independence restored a little of her dignity as she took a deep breath and set off with determination — and blundered into a bramble bush. The thorny branches pricked her hands and tore the cloak as she struggled to get free.
    From the doorstep of Falcon’s Lair, Winnie observed Kate’s progress, if it could be termed thus. She shook her head sadly and watched as Kate plucked the last of the thorns from her palms and set off again.
    This time, Kate reached the rocky path leading down to the sea. Her smooth soles slipped in the thick mud. A second later, she tumbled halfway down the hill. Morgan rode over from the wainwright’s cottage just in time to glimpse Kate rolling head over heels down the slope.
    “What the devil!” he exclaimed, directing a sharp glance of reprimand at Mrs. Carey before he dug his heels into the gray mare he was riding.
    When she ceased tumbling, Kate sat up and spat out wet grass and leaves. A moment later she heard the dull thud of approaching horse’s hooves.
    “Are you hurt?” Morgan called out, as he dismounted and hurried to her side.
    “Nay,” Kate lied. Her left ankle throbbed, her palms were scraped raw from the desperate attempt to break her fall. She was drenched to the skin and her teeth chattered from the cold. She felt Morgan grasp her arm, but she shrugged off his silent offer of assistance. “I can handle things myself.”
    She spoke curtly as she came to her feet. Morgan had no way of knowing she was furious with herself, rather than him. Her humiliation complete, Kate shook the thick mud from her hands and realized there was no recourse but to return to the keep. She had hoped to escape before Morgan’s return. No wonder Winnie seemed unconcerned about letting her leave.
    Morgan persisted. “You look unsteady. Here, I’ll help you.” He took her elbow with one hand, slid his other arm around her waist. Kate did not deny the support was welcome as they trudged up the steep incline.
    “Now,” Morgan demanded, “just what the devil is going on here? You were to remain inside till you were recovered. Why wasn’t Mrs. Carey with you?”
    “’T’wasn’t her fault,” Kate said. “I ordered her to let me leave the household. She was wise enough not to argue … well, not overmuch.”
    Morgan made an exasperated sound. At