How to Wed a Baron (DF5) by Michaels Kasey

Author:Michaels, Kasey [Michaels, Kasey]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Romance, General, Historical, Fiction
ISBN: 9781426875670
Publisher: HQN Books
Published: 2010-12-01T08:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

AS THEY HAD BEEN HEADING in nearly diametrically opposite directions, and because Justin could only estimate where, generally, the Romany camp might be, it was not until he smelled the smoke from the cooking fires that he was able to track it to its source…and to Alina.

He knew that their progress for the past mile or more had been noted, could actually feel the eyes watching him and Brutus from the trees, and that comforted him, although he wouldn’t be truly at ease until he saw Alina.

He’d been alone for a long time, and had convinced himself that he would continue alone, without feeling the loss. And then Alina had stood at the head of the gangplank in that ridiculous cloak and his carefully crafted world had tipped on its axis. Before he’d known who she was, why they’d been brought together the way they had, he’d already known she was someone who could shake him to his core—wake him up, because he’d been asleep for too many years, even as he’d traveled the Continent doing the Crown’s bidding, even as he’d believed his one true happiness would be attained only if he could return to England, no matter what the means, or the cost.

Now the prospect of departing England, never to return, seemed a simple thing. Watching Alina leave him last night had been the most difficult thing he’d ever done, but he had been right to send her away. He didn’t know if he could survive leaving her another time.

But he’d find out….

They rode into the camp at a sedate walk, and he counted the caravans. Eight in total, and in varying stages of repair and disrepair. He’d never known this many caravans to travel together here in England. That could be problematic, most especially when he informed the major that at least two of them would have to go.

The last thing he wanted was to attract attention as “those damned thievin’ Gypsies” often did in the less enlightened areas of the country. If there was one sin Justin rarely committed, it was overestimating the intelligence of his fellow man and thereby underestimating the chances of something or someone totally unrelated to the point causing trouble for him.

As he led the way through the camp, caravans on either side of the clearing, mongrel dogs barked and ran around the horses as the men, from boy to man to aged grandfather, fingered the weapons stuck into their wide waistbands. Women raised themselves from their vigils over the campfires, pressed hands to aching backs as they pushed their ample bosoms forward and eyed him with a frank appraisal that had him smiling and tipping his hat to them all.

“Brutus,” he said, his lips barely moving, “as I lack eyes in the back of my head and am loathe to turn around as we travel this gauntlet, I do hope you’re smiling as you demonstrate how harmless you are. And perhaps a cheery wave to those kiddies over there wouldn’t come amiss.

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