Medieval 01 - Untamed

poor fellow to it,” Dominic said smoothly. “Stay here, falconer. You’re coughing fit to frighten a stone, much less a falcon newly come to your mews.”
    Meg glanced sideways. Her heart lurched when she saw Dominic watching her. There was a masculine calculation in his eyes that was different from his previous self-control. It was hot rather than cold.
    He wanted to be alone with her.
    â€œWhich mews?” Dominic asked.
    â€œI—er, there,” she said, pointing.
    â€œShow me the way.”
    Common sense told Meg to refuse. Curiosity made her accept. She could learn much about a man from the way he handled a fierce, captive falcon.
    Warily Meg led Dominic to the mews housing the new peregrine. The room was three times the size given to the priest’s falcon. An opening set high in the wall admitted fresh air and light. Only the air was appreciated by the peregrine, for she was hooded. It was a way of keeping the bird from dashing herself uselessly against the walls in search of freedom or exhausting herself by thrashing at the end of her leather leash.
    Small bells chimed when the falcon moved restlessly on her perch, sensing people within her mews. As Dominic and Meg entered, the bird spread her powerful wings and turned her head from side to side, listening intently. Despite the hood, she could hear quite well.
    Meg whistled an intricate five-note call, one she used only for this bird. Recognizing the call, the peregrine calmed, folding her wings. The small chiming of bells faded into silence.
    â€œShe is magnificent,” Dominic said in a low voice.
    â€œA bird for princes or great barons,” Meg agreed.
    â€œDoes she come to the wrist yet?”
    â€œMine, aye. She is wary yet of men.”
    â€œWise,” Dominic said. “At this moment she knows us only as her captor, not as the partner in the hunt we will become.”
    The peregrine shifted restively at the sound of Dominic’s voice. Bells chimed at the end of the leather jesses that trailed from each leg. Her hooked beak opened and her wings spread as though to attack or defend.
    Dominic whistled, exactly duplicating the five-note call Meg had used. Startled, Meg turned and stared. Even the falconer had difficulty making his whistle sound like hers.
    The falcon cocked her head quickly, orienting on the familiar whistle. When it was repeated again and again until it made a soothing rill of sound, the peregrine edged across her perch, getting closer to the source of the music. When a leather gauntlet nudged gently against her talons, she stepped forward onto Dominic’s wrist.
    â€œTouch her as you normally would,” he said in a low voice.
    Meg would have to stand very close to Dominic to reach the falcon as she normally would. She hesitated, divided between wariness and curiosity at what it would be like to stand within this man’s reach as the falcon did, breathing his scent, hearing the soft rush of his breath.
    Bells spoke, signaling the peregrine’s increasing restlessness.
    â€œGo on,” Dominic murmured. “She grows nervous of your silence.”
    Speaking quietly, praising the proud falcon’s strength and beauty, Meg stroked her fingertips over the peregrine’s head, her wings, her breast, her cool legs, blowing gently into the falcon’s face all the while.
    â€œIndeed, you are the most perfect falcon in all the realm,” Meg said softly. “Your wings are swift as a storm wind, your talons strike like lightning, and your courage is greater than thunder filling the land.You will never turn aside from the hunt. The death you bring will be clean and certain.”
    The temporary blindness of the hood had heightened the peregrine’s response to messages from her other senses. Surrounded by the scent, touch, and sounds that had comforted her since she had arrived in the strange mews, the peregrine became calm yet alert, focused entirely on the woman who touched and spoke to her so kindly.
    Meg turned toward Dominic, a silent question in her eyes. The answer came as he began stroking the falcon as she had, head and breast and wings, his touches both gentle and certain. Unhurried, as though there were no more demands on him than those placed by the need to reassure the beautiful captive falcon, he stroked her and whistled her five-note call.
    Fascinated, Meg watched. When the bird became restive at the strange breath bathing her, Dominic showed no