The Paths of the Air Read Free

bright and pretty little girl with a wonderful sense of fun, an infectious giggle and a way of twining her arms around his neck in a loving hug that just about made him melt. During the two days they had spent in each other’s company – he’d taken her to the Abbey overnight, where they knew about her and asked no awkward questions – they had ridden together, walked in the woods and fields tracking small animals and birds, waded into streams and climbed trees. They had talked non-stop. Returning her to her mother and riding away had all but broken his heart.
    There had been no sign of either of them when he went visiting in midsummer and at Lammas they had had half a day and one night together before Joanna announced she had to go off somewhere. He and Joanna had made love that night; she had been as ardent, as loving as ever, although he sensed some sort of reserve, as if she wanted to give more than she felt she could. Or should . . .
    He had been invited to attend the daytime celebration at the autumn equinox and he had had a great time. Joanna’s people seemed to accept him for who and what he was and nobody ever made him feel like an outsider; well, not intentionally. Then when Joanna had gone off to do whatever it was she did, he had taken Meggie home to the hut, where he fed her, bathed her, cuddled her, told her five stories and then put her to bed.
    He had not even looked for them at Samhain; Joanna had told him not to bother as they wouldn’t be there. He didn’t know where they had gone. He didn’t know where they were now and he didn’t know when he was going to see them again.
    It made him angry.
    Some time later he resumed his seat by the hearth, a mug of ale in his hand. He had tried to divert himself by going out into the courtyard and checking that Will had dealt with the dead leaves blocking the gulley – of course he had – and by pretending an interest in Will’s woman Ella’s preserve-making.
    The other place he wanted to be was Hawkenlye Abbey.
    But he had been there only a couple of weeks back on the flimsy excuse that perhaps they’d like help in raking up the leaves. They had accepted his offer with gracious kindness and given him a besom and a rake, and for four or five happy days he had worked alongside the lay brothers in cheerful companionship.
    Abbess Helewise must have realized that it was Samhain and that he visited Joanna and Meggie around the time of the festivals. She had been too tactful to mention it.
    He did not want to risk going back to the Abbey so soon. If he kept turning up there like a puppy wanting attention they would see the underlying neediness. He really didn’t want them – oh, all right, he didn’t want her – feeling sorry for him.
    He took a long pull at his ale. I’m no use to anyone, he thought mournfully, I’m idle, I’m miserable, I’m full of self-pity and I’m—
    His ruthless catechism of faults might well have run on for some time, but Will tapped at the door and announced that there was a stranger at the gate and would Sir Josse come out to see if it was all right to let him in?
    It did not take Josse long to leap out of his chair, put his mug discreetly out of sight, brush down his tunic and wipe a hand across his beery lips. He hurried out through the door and down the steps. Beside him Will muttered, ‘There he is, sir. Wasn’t sure I liked the look of him.’
    â€˜I see,’ Josse murmured.
    â€˜Fellow looks as if he could do with some Christian charity, though,’ Will observed piously. ‘Never seen a man so weary and still on his feet.’
    Josse had to agree. The stranger was tall, wide in the shoulder and ought to have had the confident stance of one well able to take care of himself. Instead he was trembling with exhaustion. He wore a travel-stained brown tunic that reached almost to the ground, held in at the waist with a