On Gentle Wings (10 page)

The deceit she was perpetrating upon him gnawed at her
heart. She reached up to remove her mask, knowing no words would soften the
blow she was about to deal him.

“Nay” To her surprise, Kit stopped her, his hand closing
gently about her wrist. “Allow me.”

Isobel stood frozen with fear and dread as he reached behind
her wig to untie the strings. Shutting her eyes, she awaited the inevitable cry
of rage or disappointment and instead heard only the whisper of her own skirts
in the wind and felt the warmth of his breath upon her cheek.

“Sweet Isobel,” Kit murmured, and when her eyes flew open,
wet with tears and wide with shock, she saw mirrored in those green-gold depths
neither surprise nor rage, but rather the tenderest of love.

“How did you know?” she whispered.

“The girls told me. Aye, I was angry at first, but it soon occurred
to me just what a clever little minx you are. Then I had a rather hearty laugh
over it. You’ve changed, Isobel. You’ve always been good and kind and wonderful
with my daughters; but there’s a part of you as mysterious and exciting as any
woman on earth, and that’s what I glimpsed that first night at
Summerleigh
.”

“But I was playing a role,” she protested. “The unaccustomed
part of a coquette.”

“Were you? I think that woman exists, too, love, were you to
bother looking for her.” He caressed her cheek where hot tears now mingled with
his fingers. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. All is not lost. In fact, I daresay we
should be celebrating this eve.”

“Why?” she cried brokenly. “Tomorrow I must leave and wed
that despicable Tom Plummer.”

“Must you?” Kit mused, so carelessly it shocked her.

“But you heard my uncle. I must be delivered to the altar by
the end of the month.”

“And so you shall be. Indeed, I’ve already taken the liberty
of choosing your wedding gown. It awaits you at
Ambergate
along with our
girls.”

“
Our
girls?” Isobel echoed, thoroughly confused and
panicked now. “What do you mean?”

“Why, I mean to marry you, Isobel Weeks,” Kit said, putting
a playful spin on the words while she still groped to grasp what was happening.

“But my uncle … the constable … the Plummers …”

“Shan’t dare to interfere. For I learned just today that
your uncle is dead, Isobel. Simon Taggart passed away six months ago.”

Astonished, she stared at him. “Then who came to
Ambergate
?
I swear ’twas him, Kit, in the very flesh. I should know!”

“Mayhap ’twas a rare joke. I only know when I checked again
at the inn, I learned he had never been there; indeed, further inquiry, in
Cornwall produced evidence of the old toad’s departure from this earth quite
some time ago. It seems fate has conspired to throw us together, Isobel, in a
most peculiar way.”

“But what of the queen? And your responsibilities at court?”

“I anticipate no interference from Bess; rather, she hinted
only recently that I should consider marriage, as does she.”

“Yet I am scarcely titled as she would wish,” Isobel murmured,
understandably frightened at the thought of crossing Elizabeth Tudor as others
had done, to their eternal regrets.

He continued stroking her cheek. “Trust me, Isobel. We shall
have no interference from that quarter.”

“Then I needn’t leave?” The tears flowed faster now, tears
of joy, tears of relief.

“Not now, not ever,” he assured her.

“And the girls?”

 “Await our return at the house. Susan has convinced us all
that a country wedding would be most charming, and I quite agree.”

“Are you truly sure?”

“Never more so,” Kit said quietly, searching her eyes,
impressing upon them both the intensity of his love and devotion. “Isobel, will
you become my beloved bride, a mother to my daughters, and of any future
children to come?”

“Aye,” she whispered, reaching up to weave her hungry
trembling fingers through his tousled auburn hair. “A thousand times, yes! Oh,
Kit, I never dared dream of such happiness.”

“Nor I.”

A snuffle came from the shadows after the couple disappeared
into the depths of the garden. Tempest stepped into a patch of moonlight and
wiped his teary face on his impeccable white velvet sleeve.

“Well, I did it,” he said with patent satisfaction. “I wove
my first, real miracle.”

“And your last,” came a disembodied voice from the depths of
night. “Time to come home, Tempest.”

“Certainly, old man.
After
I receive my wedding
invitation.”

~*~

L
ord Tempest
did receive an invitation to witness the most shocking marriage of the year,
the wedding of Sir Christopher Tanner to Mistress Isobel Weeks. ’Twas an
indecently short time after his first wife’s death that Kit Tanner remarried,
the court gossips whispered, but on this particularly beautiful day of August
31, 1579, none of the major players truly cared what others thought.

Least of all Anne, Grace, and Maggie, who wore matching
white taffeta dresses, Madame Louise miniatures of their mother’s gown. Auburn
beauties all, they flanked their parents with the beatific expressions of
absolute angels, and only Grace knew from whence an especially giant bouquet of
Michaelmas daisies had really come. The card read, simply:

Je regrette … I was forced to return to the Continent
quite suddenly, but my wishes for eternal happiness are with you always … ton
ami,

Percival Tempest.

And just as the good reverend pronounced Kit and Isobel man
and wife, little Grace cast her gaze heavenward, and winked.

###

Dear Readers,

I’ve always loved the great drama, romance, and pageantry of
Tudor times. I think if I could choose any era to live in, I’d pick that
splendid era of discovery!

Although
On Gentle Wings
works as a standalone novella, it is part of my Raven Series. Time-wise, it falls
between my novels
Sea Raven
and
Fire Raven
, for those who prefer
reading books in an orderly fashion. If you enjoyed it, I hope you’ll join me
for another adventure soon.

Patricia

Patricia McAllister is the
author of several historical romance novels, as well as nonfiction works. She
also writes under the pen name Brit Darby with fellow author Fela Dawson Scott.

Other books by Patricia McAllister:

Gypsy Jewel

Mountain Angel

Sea Raven

Fire Raven

Snow Raven

As Brit Darby:

Emerald Prince

Visit Patricia online:

Blog:
http://britdarby.com

Twitter:
https://twitter.com/britdarby