Bewitched by Cullman Heather;

Author:Cullman, Heather;
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Open Road Media Romance
Published: 2015-03-16T14:30:35+00:00

Chapter 12

It was a delightful day. Not too warm, not too cool, with a steady but gentle wind that swept the rustling leaves from the amber-flecked ground and scattered them across the moors.

St. Martin’s Summer, Mercy had called this early October day as she’d flung the windows wide to admit the balmy, sun-dappled morn. Back in Boston such fine fall weather would have been christened Indian Summer. To Emily, it was simply a perfect day for testing her latest kite.

Standing now on the wide strip of fallow land that formed a border between the lush abbey park and the desolate moor, Emily found herself fully appreciating the beauty of the morning. Though she adored all the seasons, she had always loved autumn best. To her it was a season of boundless riches:—a treasure trove of color when everything in nature appeared dusted with precious metals and dipped in melted jewels. And the way it smelled …

She closed her eyes and deeply inhaled. Earth. The air smelled of earth; of its life, of its death; of its sepia-tinted summer memories now framed by the stark promise of winter. It carried tales of chilled twilights and cozy midnight fires, of countless harvests and the ancient rites that followed. It whispered of the decay beneath the gloriously gilded landscape, a pungent portent of the demise of the aging year.

Slowly opening her eyes again, Emily gazed up at the pure cerulean sky, across which frothed clouds as delicate as a bridal veil. As she studied those gossamer wisps, a flock of swans passed overhead, their snowy whiteness bathed in gold as they winged their way toward the sun. The magnificent sight filled her with bittersweet longing.

Oh, what she wouldn’t give to be able to fly like that, to experience the freedom and exhilaration of soaring above the earth. To do so was her greatest wish, her fondest dream, the deep desire that fueled her passion for kites. Someday she would build a kite that flew so high that it would touch heaven.

That was her fantasy, to touch heaven. After all, if the angels saw such a kite, they couldn’t help but marvel at the virtuosity of its construction, something which would most certainly entice them to follow its line down to earth, curious to see its maker. When they did, she would beg them to carry her high into the sky and to once, just once, allow a mortal to know the grandeur of flight. It was a silly fancy, she knew, but one that was dear to her heart It was what prompted her to incorporate an angel into all of her kite designs.

Contemplating her latest creation now, the one she had been working on the evening Michael had first joined her for dinner, Emily couldn’t help believing that the angels would be impressed were they to see it. How could they not? It was her most beautiful angel yet. It was a perfect portrait of Michael.

Staring at the skillfully painted seraph, with

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