Read Online To Kiss A Spy by Jane Feather - Free Book Online

had been freshly laundered, his doublet and hose new pressed.
    “I’ve brought breakfast. You’re probably hungry.”
    Pen thought about it. “I suppose I am. But mostly I ache and I feel filthy. I must look terrible.” Suddenly self-conscious, she pushed her hair away from her face. Her untidiness seemed even more noticeable when compared with her companion’s morning freshness. It was unreasonable and inconsiderate of him, she decided resentfully.
    “You are not in your best looks, I would agree,” he replied. “But that’s hardly to be wondered at. Should I carve you some ham?”
    He might have had the decency to lie, Pen thought. But there wasn’t much she could do about it. “If you please.” She stood up and went to the table. She poured a cup of small beer from the pitcher on the tray and drank thirstily. “Did you sleep at all?”
    “A little.” He gave her a quick smile as if to reassure her that he didn’t begrudge her the bed. He handed her a bread trencher thickly piled with ham.
    “You look as if you slept the sleep of the just for a full night and awoke to freshly laundered clothes,” Pen observed, not troubling to conceal her tart note.
    “Appearances can be deceiving,” he said mildly.
    “I imagine Mistress Rider has an accustomed hand with your wardrobe. Since you lodge here.”
    “She looks after me very well,” Owen agreed. “I’ve sent Cedric to summon a wherry to the steps. I imagine people will be worried about you.”
    Pen regretted her momentary sourness. It had been ungracious and smacked of ingratitude. She smiled and said, “The princess will assume I stayed at Bryanston House.”
    He raised an eyebrow. “An uninformed assumption no doubt.”
    “Completely,” Pen agreed. She took her bread and ham to the window and unlatched the shutters, flinging them wide. Frigid air flooded the chamber, setting the logs flaring in the hearth. The day was bright and sharp as ice crystals. The bare branches of skeleton trees stood out, etched against the pale clear blue of the sky. She could see the river, a silver-gray stream crowded even at this hour with boats.
    Owen glanced sideways at her as he sliced more ham. He liked the way her hair tumbled down her back, liked its thickness and the little kinks and curls that a brush would smooth out. It was brown, at first sight a very ordinary brown, but it was enlivened with streaks of gold, little rippling lights in the cold pale sunlight.
    Pen shivered and pulled the shutters closed again. “It’s a pretty day but it’s too cold to have them open.” She went to the fire to warm her hands.
    Owen noticed that the bandage around her neck was bloodstained. “It might be wise to look at the wound and change the bandage. It’s been bleeding while you slept.”
    Pen put her hand up to her neck. “It feels stiff and sore, but ’tis not throbbing anymore.”
    He came over to her and caught up a swatch of her hair in one hand, lifting it clear of her neck. He twined it around his hand, savoring its soft silkiness.
    Pen stood very still. There was an intimacy to this touch that was much greater than his earlier ministrations, greater even than the kiss he’d given her. The fingers of his free hand worked the bandage loose and unwound it. Gently he lifted the pad that had covered the gash.
    “Why do I interest you?” Pen asked abruptly.
    Owen debated his answer for only a second. Flattering lies would do him no good with this woman. “I don’t know,” he said with a rueful laugh. “I don’t mean to offend you, but I honestly don’t know.”
    Now why, Pen thought, did she find this response so reassuring? Except, of course, that it was so credible. “I’m not offended,” she said.
    “No, I don’t imagine you are,” he responded. “And that, I think, is one reason why I’m so drawn to you. You’re different, Pen Bryanston. In the midst of this serpentine world of deceit and lies and affectations you’re straight, I believe,