A Kestrel Rising Read Free Page A

the glass. “You don’t say much, do you?”
    “No, I don’t.”
    “Most girls would giggle and blush if I said that to them.”
    She regarded him coldly. “I’m not most girls.”
    “No,” he chuckled. “You’re not.” He drained his glass and took her empty one. “It’s getting a bit chilly in here. I suppose we’d better leave.”
    They strolled back in silence. Ilona pretended to study the hedgerows while Francis moodily kicked a stone along the lane, hands in pockets. She guessed he was used to having girls making a fuss of him. He wasn’t bad looking with his carelessly tousled dark hair and almond eyes the color of tea. She supposed she should have been flattered that he considered her worthy of flirtation, but it just made disliking him easier, because he assumed that she would fall for his charms.
    He paused at the foot of the Reardons’ drive and muttered a farewell, not mentioning anything about dinner later. Ilona continued her walk home with a smile on her face, feeling as if she had won an important battle.
     
    * * * *
     
    Ilona was glad to get out of the rain. Everyone had left their umbrellas in the foyer while Ellie, the Reardons’ housekeeper, had taken their wet coats before ushering them to the sitting room. A blazing fire in the hearth warded off the chill of the evening and the Christmas tree in the corner glittered under its garlands of tinsel. Ilona sought refuge on the window seat, paying more attention to the sound of the rain whispering against the window than to the conversation. She glanced across the room to where Francis stood talking quietly to her father and was annoyed that they appeared to be getting along well.
    Ilona was even more annoyed to find herself facing Francis across the table.
    He even moved the candelabra out of the way. “It’s easier to talk without flickering candles in the way.”
    She managed a thin smile as she picked at her trout pâté. “Yes, I suppose it is.” Beside her, Aislinn was telling Mrs. Reardon one of the stories she’d heard at the party. She wanted to join in but politeness compelled her to struggle for something to talk about with Francis, yet again.
    “I should think you’ll be glad to get back to work.”
    “It’s been a nice break.”
    Ilona wondered why he’d made such a deal about moving the candelabra when he was making the conversation such hard work. “Yes, it has.”
    “Where’s your driving course?”
    “North Wales.” A piece of melba toast snapped in her fingers. She abandoned the pâté.
    His dark eyes glittered in the candlelight. “Quite a journey then.”
    “Yes.” Ilona pushed the plate away and took a long sip of wine. It was tempting to return the candelabra to its original position.
    “Have you driven before?”
    “I’ve driven my father’s car a few times.”
    “Driving a truck will be different, you know.”
    She took another drink of wine. “So will flying a Spitfire after flying a trainer.”
    He raised an eyebrow. “ Touché .”
    Ilona had never been so pleased to see the arrival of a main course in her life.
     
    * * * *
     
    The rain hadn’t relented. It seemed even heavier and Ilona opened her umbrella, suddenly tired and wanting the warmth and peace of her bed. In the hubbub of farewells, Francis caught her hand. He held it for a moment then kissed her cold cheek and whispered, “I think you might learn to like me one day, Ilona.”
    He turned and walked back into the house, leaving her staring, slack-jawed, at the light spilling though the open door. Aislinn tugged, gently, at her arm as final goodbyes from the others echoed into the night.
     

Chapter Three
     
     
     
    “ACW Lowe, the two-one-nine crews need taking out to their planes. I take it you can drive a bus?”
    “Yes, Corporal Harris, sir.” Ilona saluted the depot corporal, hoping that the bus would be easy to drive, although she believed her driving instructor at RAF Penrhos when he’d told her that she would be