The Border Hostage by Virginia Henley Read Free Book Online
Authors: Virginia Henley
horse,” Raven advised her brother.
When Heron looked doubtful, Christopher laughed and assured him, “She'll be all right with me. We are just going into yonder woods for an hour.” By way of an inducement, he offered, “Why don't you try my new stallion I picked up at Bewcastle?”
“The black?” Heron asked eagerly. “Thanks, he's magnificent.” As Heron handed his sister up into the saddle, he murmured a low warning. “Don't outshine him, Raven.”
As the couple trotted their horses toward the woods, their hawks perched on their saddlebows, Christopher inquired, “Do you often ride astride?”
She gave him a provocative glance. “If I answer yes, you will think me a hoyden; if I answer no, you will think me a liar.”
“How do you ride at home?”
“Very well. I have a Border pony.”
Christopher looked amused at the way she had turned the question. “Would you not like a horse?”
“Of course I would. One just like your new stallion,” Raven replied with daring.
“Surely a gelding would be preferable for a lady?” He watched her face to see if she knew what they did to a stallion to turn it into a gelding.
Raven knew exactly what he was doing. “What's the difference?” she asked with wide-eyed innocence.
Chris Dacre had the decency to clear his throat. “They are better behaved, I think.”
Unlike some gentlemen
, Raven thought, trying not to laugh. “My grandmother lives near Bewcastle. The forests thereabouts are vast, and wildly beautiful.”
“Yes, wildly beautiful,” Dacre repeated, his hot glance licking over her like a candle flame.
“Would this clearing be a good place to fly our birds?” Raven asked, deferring to him as she knew gentlemen expected.
“Yes.” Dacre slid from his saddle. “Let me help you.”
The moment he lifted her down, Raven reached for the merlin to prevent his hands from lingering at her waist.
“Let me show you how to thread the jesses between your fingers.”
“Thank you,” she said faintly, amazed at his male arrogance.
Dacre took his peregrine falcon onto his wrist and directed, “Now watch me.” He removed its hood and cast the bird high. He had not waited for the falcon's eyes to adjust to the sudden light, but Raven forbore to criticize him. They watched it soar and circle about the clearing. “Cast the merlin,” he directed.
“Not until your falcon views its prey and starts its dive. I don't want it to kill Morgana.”
“We have hawks aplenty,” Dacre assured her. When he saw her scathing glance, he said, “Perhaps you are too tenderhearted for this sport.”
Raven saw the peregrine dive, and immediately cast the merlin. The small brown female had already spotted a mole, and swooped across the clearing, snaring it in her talons, then flew back to present her prize to Raven.“Good girl, Morgana,” Raven praised, and gave the mole back to the huntress.
“No! No! Raven, you must never feed a raptor. They won't hunt unless they are hungry!”
She gave him a sideways glance. “A female prefers a reward to being starved.”
Dacre laughed. “Birds are different from ladies.” His falcon returned with a young peacock from the castle grounds. “Oh Lord, my mother will have a fit.”
“Really? You don't have peacocks aplenty?”
“Touché! Will you forgive me for my callous remark, or will you hold it against me?” he teased.
Raven knew a double entendre when she heard one. “Behave yourself, and I may let you take me to the fair tomorrow.” She allowed him the privilege of lifting her into the saddle.
“I have to return to Bewcastle next week. If you visited your grandmother, I could continue your lessons.”
The corners of Raven's mouth lifted. “Irresistible as that sounds, sir, it is out of the question.” Her smile widened. Christopher Dacre had flown to the lure faster than his falcon!
C HAPTER 4
A t Carlisle Castle that evening, Raven Carleton's glance traveled down the long dining table. Lord Thomas
When Heron looked doubtful, Christopher laughed and assured him, “She'll be all right with me. We are just going into yonder woods for an hour.” By way of an inducement, he offered, “Why don't you try my new stallion I picked up at Bewcastle?”
“The black?” Heron asked eagerly. “Thanks, he's magnificent.” As Heron handed his sister up into the saddle, he murmured a low warning. “Don't outshine him, Raven.”
As the couple trotted their horses toward the woods, their hawks perched on their saddlebows, Christopher inquired, “Do you often ride astride?”
She gave him a provocative glance. “If I answer yes, you will think me a hoyden; if I answer no, you will think me a liar.”
“How do you ride at home?”
“Very well. I have a Border pony.”
Christopher looked amused at the way she had turned the question. “Would you not like a horse?”
“Of course I would. One just like your new stallion,” Raven replied with daring.
“Surely a gelding would be preferable for a lady?” He watched her face to see if she knew what they did to a stallion to turn it into a gelding.
Raven knew exactly what he was doing. “What's the difference?” she asked with wide-eyed innocence.
Chris Dacre had the decency to clear his throat. “They are better behaved, I think.”
Unlike some gentlemen
, Raven thought, trying not to laugh. “My grandmother lives near Bewcastle. The forests thereabouts are vast, and wildly beautiful.”
“Yes, wildly beautiful,” Dacre repeated, his hot glance licking over her like a candle flame.
“Would this clearing be a good place to fly our birds?” Raven asked, deferring to him as she knew gentlemen expected.
“Yes.” Dacre slid from his saddle. “Let me help you.”
The moment he lifted her down, Raven reached for the merlin to prevent his hands from lingering at her waist.
“Let me show you how to thread the jesses between your fingers.”
“Thank you,” she said faintly, amazed at his male arrogance.
Dacre took his peregrine falcon onto his wrist and directed, “Now watch me.” He removed its hood and cast the bird high. He had not waited for the falcon's eyes to adjust to the sudden light, but Raven forbore to criticize him. They watched it soar and circle about the clearing. “Cast the merlin,” he directed.
“Not until your falcon views its prey and starts its dive. I don't want it to kill Morgana.”
“We have hawks aplenty,” Dacre assured her. When he saw her scathing glance, he said, “Perhaps you are too tenderhearted for this sport.”
Raven saw the peregrine dive, and immediately cast the merlin. The small brown female had already spotted a mole, and swooped across the clearing, snaring it in her talons, then flew back to present her prize to Raven.“Good girl, Morgana,” Raven praised, and gave the mole back to the huntress.
“No! No! Raven, you must never feed a raptor. They won't hunt unless they are hungry!”
She gave him a sideways glance. “A female prefers a reward to being starved.”
Dacre laughed. “Birds are different from ladies.” His falcon returned with a young peacock from the castle grounds. “Oh Lord, my mother will have a fit.”
“Really? You don't have peacocks aplenty?”
“Touché! Will you forgive me for my callous remark, or will you hold it against me?” he teased.
Raven knew a double entendre when she heard one. “Behave yourself, and I may let you take me to the fair tomorrow.” She allowed him the privilege of lifting her into the saddle.
“I have to return to Bewcastle next week. If you visited your grandmother, I could continue your lessons.”
The corners of Raven's mouth lifted. “Irresistible as that sounds, sir, it is out of the question.” Her smile widened. Christopher Dacre had flown to the lure faster than his falcon!
C HAPTER 4
A t Carlisle Castle that evening, Raven Carleton's glance traveled down the long dining table. Lord Thomas