Patricia Ryan - [Fairfax Family 01] by Falcons Fire

falcon?”
    “Nay.”
    “Never?” Of course her truthful answer would surprise him, she realized. Women who had grown up in noble households were used to handling birds of prey, if only the smaller varieties, like that merlin. Had he asked the question in a deliberate attempt to trip her up? Was he beginning to suspect, after Estrude’s interrogation regarding her family, that she was hiding something?
    He took a small gauntlet from a hook above the brazier and handed it to her. “Follow me.” He held the leather curtain aside for her. She hesitated, then stepped into the other room.
    Several of the birds cried out and flapped their wings as Martine and Thorne entered, but he calmed them with a few soothing words. There were about a dozen, of different species, on perches atop iron rods set into the stone floor. It was dim and cool in the room, the only light coming from between the slats of the window shutters, although several unlit brass and horn lanterns hung on chains near the ceiling. The scent of fresh straw perfumed the atmosphere. It also smelled of the birds, but not offensively so.
    She attempted to put the gauntlet on her right hand, but he took it from her and pulled it onto her left, then placed a hand on her back. She tensed at the touch, at the heat from his palm that penetrated the thin fabric of her costume. But once he had guided her to an enormous gray gyrfalcon and removed his hand, the spot where it had been felt cold, and she wished he had left it there.
    “This is Azura,” he said. “Lord Godfrey’s favorite.” He threaded a leash through the little swivel on one of Azura’s jesses and wrapped it loosely around Martine’s gloved fingers.
    “This one?” Martine said. “But she’s so big!”
    “She’s the tamest of them all. Here.” He took her gloved left hand in both of his and pressed it into a fist, then guided it toward the bird’s feet. “She’s well trained. She knows what to do. Don’t let her know that you don’t.”
    Martine gasped as the huge bird stepped onto her fist, clinging tightly with her powerful claws.
    Thorne said, “If you’re nervous, she’ll be nervous. A nervous falcon is a dangerous thing to be that close to.”
    “You have a talent for placing me in dangerous situations, Sir Thorne.”
    “You seem to handle yourself fairly well, my lady.” He met her eyes. Quickly she returned her attention to the bird.
    “What’s the matter with her tail?” she asked, pointing to a spot that looked damaged.
    “One of the feathers is broken. I had wanted to imp it today, because the baron is eager to fly her soon, but my assistant’s not here to help me.”
    “Imp?”
    “Sew a new one on.”
    “You can do that?”
    “Certainly.” A pause, as if weighing something. “Would you like to see?”
    “But you said you couldn’t do it because your assistant’s—”
    “You can help me,” he said, holding the curtain aside again and motioning her into his living chamber. He dragged the armchair close to, and facing, the bed.
    “What do I have to do?” The bird weighed her arm down so heavily that she had to use her right hand to support her left. She realized how strong Thorne must be to be able to hold them for hours while he and Godfrey hunted.
    He collected some items from the worktable and tossed them and his gauntlet on the bed. “Just sit in that chair.” She did. He draped a clean linen cloth across her lap and then gently took hold of Azura and placed her on the cloth with her back up and her tail toward the bed. Next, he laid a square of dark wool over her head to keep her calm, he explained. Taking a strip of leather from his worktable, he tied his hair back, then sat on the bed opposite Martine, one long leg on either side of her chair.
    She could not get used to this physical closeness that he seemed to take for granted. Although they were not touching, she felt surrounded by him, penned between his thighs in a most intimate way. She could