The Beloved Scoundrel Read Online Free Page A

only when he was defeated that the urgency of the matter hit home. He needed the Window to barter with Napoleon for power and support.” He paused. “However, when they smashed the Window, it seems he tried to rectify the error. He took a troop and rode west to the cottage of Anton Pogani.”
    “The man who created the Window?”
    “So everyone thought. Your ‘dove’ tells me the work was done by her grandmother.” He briefly related the details he had learned from Marianna.
    Gregor whistled. “Poor little girl. No wonder you’re being so kind to her.”
    “For God’s sake I’m not being kind. Haven’t you heard anything I’ve said? She won’t admit it, but she
knows
the Window to Heaven. She’s been trained in glassmaking, and someday she may be as good a craftsman as her grandmother. It’s a chance, but it’s the only one we have.”
    “I heard you.” He beamed. “You should not be ashamed of being kind. I know you like the world to think you wicked, but I promise I will tell no one.”
    “I’m not—” He stopped and shrugged. “The girl would disagree. She’s already told me she knows I’m not kind.”
    Gregor glanced back over his shoulder. “I still think I should go back and get her. What if she flies away?”
    Jordan reined in his horse as he turned a corner. “She’s not going to fly away. Because you’re going to go back to the church and stand in that alcove in the shop across the street. Send Niko to watch the back entrance to the garden. Neither of you are to let your presence be known, if she sets out in the direction of the camp.”
    “And if she doesn’t?”
    “Bring her to me.”
    Gregor’s expression was troubled. “She thought herself free. You did not tell her the truth.”
    “I didn’t tell her a lie. She is free as long as she makes the right decision. Sometimes it’s necessary to hood a falcon to keep her from flying in the wrong direction.” He added impatiently, “And stop looking at me as if I were going to harm your little bird. The only reason I didn’t take her by force is that I know more will be accomplished by offering honey instead of lemon. I’m well aware I need to coax her into submission. I have no desire to have her claw at me again.”
    The assurance didn’t please Gregor. He had seen Jordan offer honey to women before, share the sweetness, and then withdraw and walk away. “This is not a good thing. She’s not like your usual women. She is wounded.”
    “You talk as if I was going to bed her,” Jordan said dryly. “As you say, she’s only a child.”
    “How old?”
    “Sixteen. I don’t seduce chits scarcely out of the schoolroom.”
    It was true Jordan preferred older, experienced women and avoided like the plague the young innocents who were thrown at him both in Kazan and London. Yet Gregor’s instincts told him there had been something unusual in Jordan’s attitude toward the girl a few minutes ago. “The schoolroom from which this particular chit emerged teaches more interesting lessons. You need the Jedalar. I think there is little you would not do to get it.”
    “Then you needn’t worry about her for a time. She’s incapable of giving it to me for at least a few years. Perhaps never.” He nudged his horse into a trot. “I’ll see you at camp.” He glanced over his shoulder. “And, Gregor, my friend, while you’re contemplating letting the little dove fly the cage, you might consider that the alternative to my guardianship is leaving her to starve or become a whore in this benighted country.”
    A convincing argument, Gregor thought gloomily, as he watched Jordan ride away. Jordan was a hard man and had grown even more ruthless since he had involved himself in Kazan’s concerns, but, whatever fate he dealt the girl, it would be better than what she faced here. “Niko!” He wheeled his horse and gestured to the burly young man at the rear of the troop. “No rest for you yet. There’s work to be done.”
    T he