Wild Wind Read Online Free Page A

returned Milo’s embrace with great care. He felt as if he’d shatter in a heap of bones from the slightest pressure. The sweet, musty odor of old wine filled his nostrils. “‘Tis...good to see you, Milo.”
    “Liar.” Milo backed off, his smile touched with gravity now. “I’m a gargoille. Children run when they see me.”
    Quietly Alex said, “‘Tis always good to see you, cousin. I’m only sorry it’s been so long.”
    “As am I.”
    Alex introduced Milo to Faithe and the children as he circled the table to greet Luke. “I’ll sit here, right across from Alex,” he informed Gaspar, who helped him struggle onto the bench. “The better to catch up on old times.”
    When Milo instructed Gaspar to sit next to him, Berte cleared her throat. “Servants are being fed in the palace kitchen.”
    Gaspar stared stonily ahead, his meaty hands curling into fists and then slowly releasing.
    “Cousin Berte.” Milo executed a small, mocking bow, his lips stretched over his teeth in what might have been either a smile or a grimace. “As imperious as ever, I see.”
    Berte scanned the faces of her dinner companions, as if trying to discern whether she’d been insulted.
    Nicolette spoke up. “Gaspar is...more a retainer, my lady. He’s Peverell Castle’s most important man-at-arms. My husband relies on him—”
    “I know who he is.” Berte fiddled with her bracelets, turning them to display their jewels to best effect. “And, as I said, I’m sure they can find something for him to eat in the—”
    “Gaspar stays with me,” Milo said. “I need him.” His eyes lit with devilment. “Unless, when it’s time for me to visit the privy, you’d care to assist me yourself.”
    Berte gulped air, her face flooding with hot color. Landric coughed behind his hand. Alex suspected that he did not completely share in his wife’s outrage. She offered no further protest, and the object of her scorn coolly took his seat.
    Gaspar Le Taureau looked much the same as ever. Although he and Milo were about the same age, one would never know it. His tanned face was unlined, and his dark hair, shorn close to the scalp, devoid of gray. As brawny as the bull for which he had been named, he carried himself with a sense of military readiness, radiating great power held in check. Nevertheless, Alex remembered him as an affable fellow, a man whom other men respected for his brute strength, but genuinely liked as well.
    Gaspar’s gaze briefly skimmed every face at the table before settling on Alex. “You were a lean young whelp last I saw you, Sir Alex. Put on some height, you have. Grown some shoulders, too, from the looks of you.” He grinned. “Soldiering can make a man out of anyone, it seems.”
    Alex shook his head ruefully. “You haven’t changed a bit, Gaspar.”
    The big man regarded him for a moment, his smile fixed. “Yes I have.”
    Milo lifted the silver goblet in front of him, frowning to find it empty. He grabbed that of his wife, sitting next to him, but it was empty as well. “Wench!” he called to a passing servant girl. “Bring me some wine.”
    “I’m terribly sorry, milord, but I can’t,” the girl replied, pointing toward the king’s cup-bearer, filling an ornamental gold beaker from a barrel near the high table. “It hasn’t been tested yet.”
    “‘Twill be served soon,” Nicolette assured him softly.
    “Did I ask you?” Milo demanded in a burst of snarling wrath. “I know damn well ‘twill be served soon. I want it now!” All around them, conversations ceased. The only sound at their table came from Hlynn, who let out a somnolent little growl at having been disturbed. Nicolette, placidly ignoring her husband’s outburst, quieted the child by stroking her hair and whispering soothing words.
    Gaspar laid a hand on his master’s shoulder and murmured, “Calm yourself, milord.”
    “I will be calm,” Milo said between clenched teeth, “when I am shown the courtesy due any guest who