A Fateful Wind by Suzette Stone Read Free Book Online Page B

constant hobby. The man who drinks away his life every night is a dying man. A man who goes home to a nagging wench every night is an imprisoned man. Just remember that boy and life will serve you well .
    Since then, Jack came to realize the old farmer had been right. Every woman he had ever known turned out to be a nagging wench just as the old farmer predicted. Women who stifled him and clipped the wings of freedom he so loved. He felt better off living life as a free man, having an occasional tipple of alcohol here and there and the pleasure of a woman’s arms now and again with no strings attached. It was exactly how he liked it.
    Jack paid the pretty barmaid who gave him more than a friendly smile and seated himself in the dusty alcove with his pint of ale. He scanned the groups of men who lined the pub. He recognized some of them from the other day when he met with a few of the miners to discuss the opportunities in America. His gaze abruptly fell on an old miner seated in the corner, his shoulders stooped over as he sat puffing on his pipe, holding a pint of ale between his bent fingers. The old man sat listening to a dark haired young man beside him, nodding as he sipped his ale. Jack instantly recognized the older as Jenna’s father. Rising, he approached the table, bidding each man to sit back down as they rose to greet him.
    “Mr. Penworthy isn’t it?” Jack stretched out his hand for the old man to shake.
    “Aye, Sir.” The man eased himself back into his seat. “This here is Trystan Trezies, my daughter’s fiancé. Trystan, this is Sir Jack Bartholomew.” He pointed at the young man sat next to him. The man rose and shook Sir Jack’s hand strongly.
    “Congratulations on your impending nuptials. You must be very excited.” Jack smiled. The young man was extremely handsome, dark and swarthy with the physique of a hard worker. He turned to the old man. “How is your daughter sir?”
    “Oh, she is very well, thank you. I think what with all the wedding preparations and working so hard up at the manor, she just overtired herself that’s all. She is back to her normal spirits now.”
    Jack nodded, remembering the small pale hand wrapped around his, the odd nervousness he felt as her eyes met his. Glancing once more at the young man, he tried to quell the anxious feeling of envy that suddenly came upon him. How lucky the young man would be to come home to that soft skin and glorious beauty every night. To roll over in the darkness and feel her naked skin lying next to him. How could any man feel trapped being married to a woman such as her?
    Jack breathed in deeply, a light headed feeling coming over his body. “Enjoy your evening, gentlemen.” He smiled, trying to pull himself together. “I am sure I shall see you up at the mines this coming week.” The men nodded. Jack noticed the cautious expression that suddenly crossed the younger man’s face.
    As he left the Inn, he lifted his face up toward the sky, reveling in the warmth of the sun. He loved this time of year in Cornwall. The days were long and pleasant, neither too cold, nor too hot and the sun did not set until long past supper. Enjoying the nice evening, he decided to take the long way home, down through the valley, past the chapel graveyard and up along the stream which meandered its way along the edge of the moor. He stopped briefly outside of the graveyard, unsure whether to go in. The place always unnerved him so. Generations of Penrose ancestors were ensconced in its ancient walls. Even in the vivid sunlight, the aged tombstones held a haunted silence.
    Hesitantly, Jack open the old creaking iron gates, the rails leaving orange rust marks on his palms and entered the eerie churchyard. The air felt colder as he walked along the pathway that meandered through the scattered burial plots. Wind crept through the leaves of the massive oak trees above, rustling in the still afternoon air. Sir Jack wrapped his coat closer around his body. He