Read Online Rexanne Becnel by Dove at Midnight - Free Book Online

husband she would most certainly embrace it, for something in her longed for a child of her own. How she would love a baby; how she would happily tend its every need. It would never want for love or comfort but would grow up happy and smiling, and always content.
    She crossed her arms, wrapping them tightly around her as she let her imagination wander. She would love a child of her own above all things. And such a child would love her back as well. The very thought of it brought a warmth to her heart. But as she recalled where she was—and why—that warm glow congealed into a cold lump in her throat. Her arms fell to her sides as she faced the reality she had chosen for herself. There would be no children for her, because there would be no husband. Her comfort must be found in God’s love. Surely His love would be far more fulfilling than any other kind.
    Still, that belief did little to lift Joanna’s spirits as she heard the clatter of horse’s hooves outside. Lord Blaecston and his men were leaving, taking with them her last claim to the outside world. Though she tried her utmost to rejoice in their departure, it was all she could do not to cry.
    When Joanna left the quiet row of prayer carrels it was time for the evening chapter reading. But her mood was too bleak and her soul too troubled to seek any comfort amidst the restless shuffling of the Priory’s entire populace. She had missed supper, but she did not care about that either. The wind had increased considerably, roaring in from the sea in angry blasts, yet the very violence of it seemed almost comforting. She felt angry and aimless herself, filled with energy but with nowhere to direct it. To the east, extending far across the German Sea, the sky grew darker and darker. But to the west the sun still showed weakly through the cloud layer. During midsummer the twilight lingered a long while, and Joanna knew the darkness would not become absolute for several hours. As she remained still, staring to the west with the wind thrusting against her back, the chapel bells rang compline. A few latecomers scurried up the three steps and through the wide portal, but then she was alone. Standing there in the empty priory yard, she let her gaze sweep around her, taking in the dusty grounds and the plain buildings.
    Rain would settle the dust, she thought absently, although the roof leak in the chapel would surely be worsened should a storm come. Then she turned to face the wind and lifted her eyes to the lowering sky. Leak or no, a fierce rainstorm was exactly what she wished for. Let it blow and storm until all of England cowed from the fury of it. Let the rains come so long and hard that the entire world was washed clean—or else washed away.
    Unable to understand or control her careening emotions, Joanna tore the couvrechef from her head. As the square of linen caught in the wind and flew up and away, she shook her head hard, letting her long curls and ringlets fly freely around her face. Then, with no destination in mind, only the overwhelming need to be somewhere else, she hurried toward the gate and the windswept moors beyond the confines of the religious enclave.
    Joanna did not follow the narrow cart track away from the priory. Instead, she headed toward the cliffs that lined the coast. Far below was the sea, beating impotently against the chalk deposits. The high tides seemed intent on devouring the cliffs, as if they hungered to take over the land. Joanna leaned out dangerously beyond the rocky edge, but she was not afraid. The wind pushed at her so hard that she felt she could have jumped out into space and still have been thrust back onto the solid earth beneath her feet.
    If only the wind had pushed her mother back.
    That thought brought her immediately upright, and a shiver ran up her spine. At once she turned and walked stiffly away from the sheer cliffs, back to the gently rolling moors.
    How could her mother have found the courage to make such a leap? the