The Gypsy King by Maureen Fergus

Author:Maureen Fergus
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: PRH Canada Young Readers

The plan agreed upon, it did not take long to change Fayla back into her lowborn smock and settle her upon the hastily fashioned sledge that Tiny had attached to the horse belonging to the now-gagged, bound and blindfolded unconscious nobleman who’d been left behind by Lord Atticus.

After the two of them had departed, Rachel and Persephone returned to the place where Fayla’s sweatsoaked noble clothing had been laid out to air. Seeing Rachel’s terror at the prospect of donning garments worn by someone afflicted with the disease that had killed her parents, Persephone insisted upon playing the part of the noblewoman. Rachel protested feebly for only a few seconds before capitulating with a grateful hug and quickly helping Persephone dress and fix her hair.

“Oh,” she sighed after she’d set the last hair pin in place. “You look beautiful—and nobler than the very noblest of noblewomen!”

Pleased in spite of the fact that she was wearing grim Death on her back, Persephone smiled, picked up her skirts and gracefully made her way back to where Fleet was refusing to stand still so that Azriel could repack the final few items. When he finally managed to wrestle the last pannier closed, he turned, caught sight of Persephone and stopped short so abruptly that it appeared as though he’d slammed into an invisible wall.

For a breathless instant, he did nothing else. Then, with agonizing slowness, his very blue eyes began to wander from the top of her carefully coiffed head to the tender lobes of her ears, across every inch of her face and deep into her violet eyes. Here, they paused for a forever moment before plunging downward to the delicate hollow of her throat, across the graceful swell of her surprisingly generous bosom and along the curve of her slim waist. And then down, down they swept along the length of the full skirts that hid her long, bare legs, to the very tips of her polished riding boots before they began the slow climb back up again.

And all the while he was looking her over, Persephone stood paralyzed, wondering if she might faint, feeling as vulnerable as if she were standing utterly naked before him.

“Is … is something wrong, Azriel?” she finally stammered.

“Persephone … I … you.…”

“She looks terrific, doesn’t she?” prompted Rachel, when it became clear that Azriel had temporarily lost the ability to form intelligible sentences.

Nodding, Azriel wordlessly held his hand out to Persephone. She slowly glided over to where he stood and then inhaled sharply when he slid his hands around her waist. Refusing to look up at him for fear of what might happen if she did, Persephone raised her trembling hands and rested them lightly on his broad, powerful shoulders.

“Ready?” he asked as he prepared to toss her into the saddle.

For anything, she thought wildly. “Yes,” she said primly.

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