Read Online Never Kiss A Stranger by Heather Grothaus - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Heather Grothaus
Ads: Link
her foolish hope from where he stood.
“Get your monkey and your bag.”
Alys had never been so nervous and excited in the whole of her life as she skipped-ran to keep up with Piers, Layla unwillingly riding in Alys’s drawstring sack. They were retracing the way back to Fallstowe, together.
Now all Alys had to do was to figure out a way to convince Piers that they were truly meant to be together, forever, as the stones had very obviously decreed. Difficult, as he had refused to respond to her attempts at conversation for the past hour. She didn’t have much time left, but she was confident that something would intervene. After all, it was the Foxe Ring at work. One might even venture to call it fate.
“Where are you going once you leave Fallstowe?” she tried yet again.
He merely shrugged.
“You’re in a terrible hurry, and yet you have no destination in mind?” she teased.
“London.”
“Oh, I adore London!” Alys said happily, thrilled to her toes that he had at last responded. “I haven’t been in ages though—since before my mother died.”
Piers, ever the skillful conversationalist, grunted.
But Alys was undeterred. “Are you to visit family there?”
“I have no family.”
“Oh. Friends, then?” She giggled. “No, don’t tell me—you don’t have any friends either.”
“Right.”
She reached out an arm to snag a fold of his robe and gave it a playful tug. “I’m your friend.”
“You’re a ninny.”
Alys laughed. She was quite certain Piers was in possession of a wonderful sense of humor if she could just coax him to open up a little bit wider than a shoe seam.
“My favorite activity by far is to market. The markets in London are so very entertaining! Why, I’d wager that you can buy anything at all there. What is your favorite thing to do in London?”
“I don’t know. I’ve not been.”
“Really?” Alys was shocked. “Then how do you know where you’re going?”
“I simply plan on looking for the very biggest palace in the city and then going there.”
Alys’s mouth fell open. “You’re going to see the
king?
How exciting! I’ve never met the king. Were you summoned?”
“Somewhat, I suppose.”
“Sybilla herself is dreading another summons from Edward.”
Piers grunted.
“Do you want to know why?”
“Not especially.”
Alys let her voice lower dramatically. “He wants to take Fallstowe from her.”
“So I’ve heard. Terrible luck, that.”
“Yes, it is actually. He thinks our mother was a spy and that after my father died, she held Fallstowe illegally. So of course, now that Mother is gone, he is outraged that Sybilla—a lowly
daughter,
no less—refuses to surrender the castle to the crown.”
“Your mother was a spy?” He shook his head with asnort. “Obvious now where you get your tenacity from, then. And your recklessness.”
Alys drew her head back and smiled. “Why, thank you, Piers.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
“I shall take it as one any matter.”
The day was only the faint sliver of a memory now, night’s blanket lying orange and pink and soft on the faraway hills as Fallstowe came in sight. Its towers and walls rose solidly in black relief out of a gentle purple and indigo mist, and a group of riders rode toward the keep on the road ahead of them, their figures as black and muted as the stones.
The thought crossed her mind that, if they hurried, she and Piers could gain entry along with the mounted party before the portcullis was lowered. Alys’s mood soured. Yes, she had lived at Fallstowe all of her life, but now that her mother was dead and Sybilla was at the family helm, the grand castle had lost that comforting feeling of home. Alys felt almost adrift on the waves of rolling hills surrounding the keep, as if she was being sucked relentlessly closer to a certain and deadly whirlpool. That whirlpool was her cold, demanding sister, ready to sacrifice Alys to the depths.
Perhaps the enigmatic man who
“Get your monkey and your bag.”
Alys had never been so nervous and excited in the whole of her life as she skipped-ran to keep up with Piers, Layla unwillingly riding in Alys’s drawstring sack. They were retracing the way back to Fallstowe, together.
Now all Alys had to do was to figure out a way to convince Piers that they were truly meant to be together, forever, as the stones had very obviously decreed. Difficult, as he had refused to respond to her attempts at conversation for the past hour. She didn’t have much time left, but she was confident that something would intervene. After all, it was the Foxe Ring at work. One might even venture to call it fate.
“Where are you going once you leave Fallstowe?” she tried yet again.
He merely shrugged.
“You’re in a terrible hurry, and yet you have no destination in mind?” she teased.
“London.”
“Oh, I adore London!” Alys said happily, thrilled to her toes that he had at last responded. “I haven’t been in ages though—since before my mother died.”
Piers, ever the skillful conversationalist, grunted.
But Alys was undeterred. “Are you to visit family there?”
“I have no family.”
“Oh. Friends, then?” She giggled. “No, don’t tell me—you don’t have any friends either.”
“Right.”
She reached out an arm to snag a fold of his robe and gave it a playful tug. “I’m your friend.”
“You’re a ninny.”
Alys laughed. She was quite certain Piers was in possession of a wonderful sense of humor if she could just coax him to open up a little bit wider than a shoe seam.
“My favorite activity by far is to market. The markets in London are so very entertaining! Why, I’d wager that you can buy anything at all there. What is your favorite thing to do in London?”
“I don’t know. I’ve not been.”
“Really?” Alys was shocked. “Then how do you know where you’re going?”
“I simply plan on looking for the very biggest palace in the city and then going there.”
Alys’s mouth fell open. “You’re going to see the
king?
How exciting! I’ve never met the king. Were you summoned?”
“Somewhat, I suppose.”
“Sybilla herself is dreading another summons from Edward.”
Piers grunted.
“Do you want to know why?”
“Not especially.”
Alys let her voice lower dramatically. “He wants to take Fallstowe from her.”
“So I’ve heard. Terrible luck, that.”
“Yes, it is actually. He thinks our mother was a spy and that after my father died, she held Fallstowe illegally. So of course, now that Mother is gone, he is outraged that Sybilla—a lowly
daughter,
no less—refuses to surrender the castle to the crown.”
“Your mother was a spy?” He shook his head with asnort. “Obvious now where you get your tenacity from, then. And your recklessness.”
Alys drew her head back and smiled. “Why, thank you, Piers.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
“I shall take it as one any matter.”
The day was only the faint sliver of a memory now, night’s blanket lying orange and pink and soft on the faraway hills as Fallstowe came in sight. Its towers and walls rose solidly in black relief out of a gentle purple and indigo mist, and a group of riders rode toward the keep on the road ahead of them, their figures as black and muted as the stones.
The thought crossed her mind that, if they hurried, she and Piers could gain entry along with the mounted party before the portcullis was lowered. Alys’s mood soured. Yes, she had lived at Fallstowe all of her life, but now that her mother was dead and Sybilla was at the family helm, the grand castle had lost that comforting feeling of home. Alys felt almost adrift on the waves of rolling hills surrounding the keep, as if she was being sucked relentlessly closer to a certain and deadly whirlpool. That whirlpool was her cold, demanding sister, ready to sacrifice Alys to the depths.
Perhaps the enigmatic man who
Similar Books
