Read To Kiss A Spy for Free Online Page B

dissipated and the night was crisp and clear, the moon washing all around them with a pale light now that they were out of the huddle of dark lanes.
    Pen’s face was white in the moonlight, her hazel eyes both wide and very dark. The natural ease with which he’d adjusted her hood had startled her. Owen smiled at her and she felt a measure of reassurance. Some warmth flowed back into her chilled and aching body.
    The front door opened. A woman stood there holding a lantern high. “Come you in, sir. Cedric says you’ve a wounded lady.”
    “Aye, Mistress Rider.” Owen propelled Pen in front of him. “We had an encounter with a tribe of beggars. They cut Lady Bryanston and the wound needs cleansing immediately.”
    Pen stepped into a narrow passageway and returned the interested gaze of a round-bodied woman wrapped in a shawl over her kirtle and chemise. “Forgive us if we roused you from your bed, mistress,” Pen said.
    “Oh, ’tis no trouble, madam. I’m used to the chevalier turning up at all hours. Come this way.” She bustled ahead of them, holding the lantern high so that it threw its light along the passageway.
    They came into a large square kitchen where a kettle sat on a trivet over a brightly burning range. Three yellow lurchers lying by the door to the yard raised their heavy heads, then lumbered to their feet, tails wagging, to greet Owen like an old friend. He stroked them, let them lick his hands, and after a minute they returned to their places, dropping their heads back to their folded paws with breathy sighs.
    Cedric was revolving slowly before the fire, making sure every side of him was exposed to the heat. He had a satisfied air. On such a night a warm kitchen was infinitely preferable to hanging around the water steps waiting for transport.
    “If ye’ll just warm yourselves ’ere, I’ll ’ave the chevalier’s bedchamber prepared in a trice,” Mistress Rider said. “ ’Tis all ready, just needs a light to the fire. We wasn’t expectin’ you back this evening, sir.”
    “No,” Pen said hastily, throwing out a hand to stop the woman as she made for the stairs. “There’s no need to prepare a bedchamber. This will take but a minute.”
    “I believe it will take a little longer,” Owen said easily. “You’ll be more comfortable before a fire above stairs, and Mistress Rider will prepare a sack posset while I cleanse the wound.”
    “Aye, that’s right,” the woman said cheerily. “You, young Cedric, bring a bucket of ’ot coals from the fire, we’ll have the chevalier’s chamber warm as toast in no time.”
    Cedric shoveled hot coals into a bucket and followed Mistress Rider from the kitchen.
    “Come to the fire,” Owen said, going over to the range. “There’s no need to be afeard.”
    “Isn’t there?” Pen returned somewhat dryly. Nevertheless she followed him to the fire, bending to warm her hands. The ripped gloves had offered little protection from the cold on their walk to the tavern and her fingertips were reddened and numb.
    “I would expect that anyone reckless enough to strike off on her own through the dark alleys of London would be a stranger to fear,” he commented with a raised eyebrow. “I assure you, if it’s me you fear, I’m a deal less dangerous than a tribe of beggars.”
    That I doubt.
But Pen kept that thought to herself. She was not afraid of him at all, but she was deeply disturbed by him. Or was she disturbed by the simple fact that he
did
disturb her? She sucked her fingertips in an effort to get the blood moving again.
    “I do not fear you. And if the torchman had not run away I would have been better served,” she responded a mite defensively. “But you mustn’t think I don’t know you saved my life. Or, indeed, that I’m not grateful.”
    “Well, as I said once before, you interest me, Lady Pen. I seem to find myself following you whenever I see you.” There was no smile as he said this and his gaze was cool and steady resting