The Lady and the Falconer by Laurel O'Donnell Page A

shop, Mary stood laughing. Beside her, Solace stared at the sky, a smile on her face. Both were pressed up against the workshop for shelter, both soaked through to the skin, as if they had been in the brunt of the storm.
    Then, suddenly, his falcon took flight just as the skies opened, sending down a new shower of rain that soaked Logan. Solace took Mary’s hand and they both dashed out into the onslaught of rain. Logan watched them with amused eyes as they turned round and round, their mouths open and raised to the sky. He watched Solace’s face glow with joy, a smile curving her shapely lips. Her dark hair trailed down her back in long, wet strands.
    Her drenched velvet houppelande hung heavily on her, accenting her every curve, every move she made.
    Solace continued to twirl round in the rain, spinning in joyful abandon. He remembered those carefree days, even though they had been so long ago. And something inside him longed to return to them. He found himself lost in her happiness. The joy on her face almost touched his soul. He wanted to reach out to her, to feel just an inkling of the abandon she felt.
    But he couldn’t. Not now. Not ever. He had once felt that kind of freedom, and it had cost him everything he held dear. Everything he loved.
    He didn’t want any part of it. Not at that price.
    Logan turned to go. But he couldn’t resist one last glance at Solace and those brilliant green eyes that sparkled with happiness. The wet garment clung to her shapely hips like skin, the weight of it pulling her skirt until the bodice was conforming tightly to her shapely breasts.
    Longing surged inside him and Logan turned quickly away, clutching the wood carving tightly in his hand. His steps were long and purposeful as he returned to the mews. Drops of rain slid down his head and under the tunic he wore, soaking his skin. He would give the doll to Mary another time. When Solace wasn’t there.
    He knew he should talk to Solace, should tell her that their kiss was a mistake. But he couldn’t.
    And now, when his brother should be filling his thoughts, he found his mind occupied by Solace instead. She was becoming too much of a distraction. He had to cleanse his mind of her. He had to put her out of his thoughts.
    Logan closed his eyes tightly and sighed, relaxing his body. There had to be someone else in this blasted castle who had seen Peter, or knew of him. Perhaps it was time to ask Old Ben. But the old man didn’t trust him now; he would trust him even less if he knew he was searching for someone.
    Right now, it seemed, Solace was his only means to finding Peter. But he had to see her for what she was -- an enemy with information he needed. He should just capture her, interrogate her and...
    “...She needs to be taken care of now,” a woman’s voice insisted in a barely discernible whisper.
    Logan stopped in the middle of the falcon-training ground, in the area bordered by the kennels on one side and the crossbow makers on the other. Something familiar about the woman’s voice made him pause.
    “What difference does it make if it’s today or tomorrow or next week? The siege is going on,” a man replied in the same hushed tone.
    “We don’t know when he’ll return,” the woman answered.
    Logan took a step closer to the kennel, searching for the owners of the voices. They must be in the kennels beside the mews. A rendezvous, perhaps, he thought. Or a plot unfolding. Either way, it didn’t concern him.
    “I want Solace disposed of,” the woman said.
     
     

 
     
    Chapter Eleven
     
     
     
    L ogan froze. He didn’t move, afraid the conspirators would hear him. Solace? he wondered silently, his heart missing a beat. Perhaps he hadn’t heard right.
    “And how do you suppose I go about it, my dear?” the man asked. “Poison?”
    “Too suspicious.”
    “Push her off a walkway?”
    “You might be seen.”
    There was a long, quiet moment in which Logan shifted his stance slightly, moving closer to the