Free On Gentle Wings by Patricia McAllister

froze, praying their
youthful exuberance wouldn’t betray her now.
    But Anne only said, “Madame Rouissard dismissed us early
since it’s such a lovely day. Can we ride instead, Papa?”
    Kit grinned, reaching out to tousle Anne’s strawberry-blonde
locks. “All right, poppet. Let’s all dash back to the house and change.”
    “You go on, Papa,” Anne said, stroking Mystery’s velvety
nose. “I want to pet her a little bit more.”
    “Me, too,” Grace said, elbowing her way past her sister to
reach up on tiptoe and pat the horse’s neck.
    “Don’t dally, girls. Y’know we have to visit your Uncle
George this eve,” Kit said, bending to lift his youngest in his arms. Maggie
looped her chubby hands around his neck, snuggling against his cheek so that
their fiery curls meshed. Isobel gazed at the tender vision of father and
daughter and felt a sudden lump in her throat.
    “Come along, Mistress Maggie,” Kit sang out in playful tones
as he carried the giggling toddler from the stables. Isobel turned to let him
pass, closing her eyes when their bodies briefly and accidentally brushed in
intimate fashion. When he had gone, Isobel opened her eyes and found the other
two girls staring accusingly at her.
    “ Madame Mysterie ?’” Anne demanded. “That cannot be
coincidence. Why didn’t you tell us?”
    “I wanted to, darling. But it seemed somehow improper to
mention that I’d met your father at the masque.” Or that he kissed my hand
and arranged an assignation …
    The girls looked at one another, obviously frustrated. Grace
burst out, “But that’s what we wanted to happen! We already knew Papa
was going to be there, and we wanted you two to meet, and fall in love!”
    “Fall in … ” Isobel almost sobbed the words. She couldn’t
explain the flurry of emotion choking her, nor the sudden sting of tears in her
eyes. “So that’s why you insisted I go, and clad so shamelessly, too,” she
added with a note of reproach she could not quite carry off.
    “We just knew if Papa saw you in something besides
those ragged old frocks you wear, he’d have to love you like we do,” Grace said
innocently.
    “And make you our Mama,” Anne added.
    “So you wouldn’t ever go away.”
    “Oh, my darlings,” Isobel whispered, moving swiftly to
gather them both into her arms, heedless of the fact that it meant the dreaded
beast was less than five feet away now.
    When the equine version of Madame Mysterie suddenly nosed
her skirts, searching for the sort of tasty tidbits Kit always carried in his
pockets, Isobel started and had to bite her lip to keep from screaming. Then
Grace suggested something even more outrageous than the masque.
    “I know,” the six-year-old cried. “You can go riding with
Papa instead!”
    “And pretend to sprain your ankle when you’re dismounting so
Papa has to help you,” Anne added, her green eyes sparkling. She was the most
romantically inclined of the three girls, and Isobel often despaired over her
dreamy nature. For, as she knew from personal experience, nothing ever came of
dreams, wishful or otherwise.
    “Girls, I will certainly not participate in such a
ridiculous charade,” Isobel said, failing to come across half as stern or
censorious as she’d hoped. “The masque was bad enough. Entirely inappropriate.”
    “But fun,” Grace exclaimed. “Wasn’t it fun, Isobel? He
promised you’d have fun.”
    “He?”
    “Y’know, the lord.”
    Oh, no, now they were back to that again. Isobel rubbed her
aching brow, wondering how she’d ever gotten herself into such a coil in the
first place.
    Anne cuffed her little sister. “See, dolt, now you’ve upset
her even more. Oh, Isobel, please don’t be angry. Or afraid. Horses are
wonderful. Riding is lovely! And Papa will be so happy if you learn, especially
since you’re so scared.”
    “If you love us …” Grace began, pleading.
    Isobel sighed, turning to regard the half-dozing Mystery.
Gingerly, she extended a hand