Read Online Rexanne Becnel by Dove at Midnight - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Dove at Midnight
Ads: Link
perverse thought tortured her. And how could she have been so cowardly as to abandon the rest of her own life?
I don’t want to think about that, Joanna told herself as the wind half carried her forward, whipping her waist-length hair and long skirt before her. I only want to take a walk in the quiet woods and find some measure of peace there.
Clinging to that solitary thought, Joanna let the wind blow her along, through the tall grasses and prickly heather, past the cart track and almost to Christa’s Spout before she veered toward the woods. Already her hair was tangled beyond redemption and her face was warm with exertion, but slowly she recovered some modicum of composure. The clouds loomed dark and low and she knew the trees might not be safe should there be any lightning, but until she heard the warning thunder she would not worry about it. She would walk until it rained, she decided fancifully. Would God let her go until forever, or would He send a downpour to direct her back to the priory? A part of her wanted to ridicule such a foolish thought, yet another part of her needed an answer, and God seemed the only one available.
Rylan spied Joanna as she left the priory. After he and his men had ridden beyond view of St. Theresa’s, they had doubled back, clinging to the forest to remain unseen. Now they camped on a little knoll that provided a clear view of the priory. When Kell had notified him that a solitary figure of a woman walked across the moor, he had been unsure at first whether it was his quarry. Then when she’d headed directly toward the sheer cliffs, he’d felt a moment of sickening fear. It was Joanna. She strode so purposefully for the cliffs. Was she going to cast herself over the edge? Rumor had it her mother had flung herself in the same manner to her own death. He had leaped up in alarm, prepared to ride to her rescue even though he knew he could never reach her in time. But to his enormous relief, she had stopped and then turned away from the cliffs, angling toward the very place where he and his men lay in wait.
Her hair whipped before her like a shimmering sail. Her skirts flared out as well, snapping and tangling in her feet, exposing brief flashes of bare leg. Up to now she had appeared a pale slender woman, garbed in shapeless gray with only her translucent complexion and huge green eyes to commend her. Now she was a faceless creature, all long wild hair and shapely legs. As fast as his relief for her safety came, another unexpected emotion tumbled directly behind it. Some fellow—of his own choosing—would be a very happy man come his wedding night. Some lusty young buck would have those long pale legs wrap around his waist and would bury his hands and face within that silken mass of hair.
A sudden heat rose in him at the thought of her that way, and although he knew it a madness, he could not at once suppress it. She was a complete innocent—how could she not be? And yet he knew with a certainty he could not explain that she would be passionate beyond all logic. Perhaps it was her ready temper. Perhaps the way she blushed or simply the way she embraced the wild winds. But whatever, he knew it was so. Only he would not be the one to find out firsthand.
With a low oath he jerked his eyes away from her and forcibly quelled the rush of blood that tightened his loins. This was no time for his mind to be wandering in such a direction. Yet as he turned back once more to follow her progress—as he saw her hold her hair away from her brow with one careless motion—he knew he would hold a meaningful talk with the man she wed. He must at least ensure that she be treated gently and carefully on her wedding night. He owed her that much.
“’Tis too easy,” Kell grumbled from behind him.
“Better this than my plan to steal back into the priory tonight to abduct her,” Rylan replied. “Save your Viking instincts for another day, Kell. And another target,” he added as his eyes remained
I don’t want to think about that, Joanna told herself as the wind half carried her forward, whipping her waist-length hair and long skirt before her. I only want to take a walk in the quiet woods and find some measure of peace there.
Clinging to that solitary thought, Joanna let the wind blow her along, through the tall grasses and prickly heather, past the cart track and almost to Christa’s Spout before she veered toward the woods. Already her hair was tangled beyond redemption and her face was warm with exertion, but slowly she recovered some modicum of composure. The clouds loomed dark and low and she knew the trees might not be safe should there be any lightning, but until she heard the warning thunder she would not worry about it. She would walk until it rained, she decided fancifully. Would God let her go until forever, or would He send a downpour to direct her back to the priory? A part of her wanted to ridicule such a foolish thought, yet another part of her needed an answer, and God seemed the only one available.
Rylan spied Joanna as she left the priory. After he and his men had ridden beyond view of St. Theresa’s, they had doubled back, clinging to the forest to remain unseen. Now they camped on a little knoll that provided a clear view of the priory. When Kell had notified him that a solitary figure of a woman walked across the moor, he had been unsure at first whether it was his quarry. Then when she’d headed directly toward the sheer cliffs, he’d felt a moment of sickening fear. It was Joanna. She strode so purposefully for the cliffs. Was she going to cast herself over the edge? Rumor had it her mother had flung herself in the same manner to her own death. He had leaped up in alarm, prepared to ride to her rescue even though he knew he could never reach her in time. But to his enormous relief, she had stopped and then turned away from the cliffs, angling toward the very place where he and his men lay in wait.
Her hair whipped before her like a shimmering sail. Her skirts flared out as well, snapping and tangling in her feet, exposing brief flashes of bare leg. Up to now she had appeared a pale slender woman, garbed in shapeless gray with only her translucent complexion and huge green eyes to commend her. Now she was a faceless creature, all long wild hair and shapely legs. As fast as his relief for her safety came, another unexpected emotion tumbled directly behind it. Some fellow—of his own choosing—would be a very happy man come his wedding night. Some lusty young buck would have those long pale legs wrap around his waist and would bury his hands and face within that silken mass of hair.
A sudden heat rose in him at the thought of her that way, and although he knew it a madness, he could not at once suppress it. She was a complete innocent—how could she not be? And yet he knew with a certainty he could not explain that she would be passionate beyond all logic. Perhaps it was her ready temper. Perhaps the way she blushed or simply the way she embraced the wild winds. But whatever, he knew it was so. Only he would not be the one to find out firsthand.
With a low oath he jerked his eyes away from her and forcibly quelled the rush of blood that tightened his loins. This was no time for his mind to be wandering in such a direction. Yet as he turned back once more to follow her progress—as he saw her hold her hair away from her brow with one careless motion—he knew he would hold a meaningful talk with the man she wed. He must at least ensure that she be treated gently and carefully on her wedding night. He owed her that much.
“’Tis too easy,” Kell grumbled from behind him.
“Better this than my plan to steal back into the priory tonight to abduct her,” Rylan replied. “Save your Viking instincts for another day, Kell. And another target,” he added as his eyes remained
Similar Books
