Eochaidh - Legend of the Horsemen (Book One) by Terri Reid Read Free Book Online

the stairs to their
quarters.   Lord John pulled Lady Evaleen
into his arms as soon as he shut the door behind him.
    “But, John,” she insisted, moaning softly as his lips
caressed her neck. “Shouldn’t we at least look at the wallpaper?”
    “Darling,” he whispered, trailing kisses from her jawline
slowly across her face toward her lips. “Don’t you remember, we replaced the
wallpaper last fall?”
    Her gasp of remembrance was captured by his lips as kissed
her mouth and then lifted her into his arms and hurried across the room to
their bed.
    Downstairs, Fitzhugh strolled out of the study. It had taken
him a few moments to remove the indulgent smile from his face and now, with his
composure quite intact, he halted a chambermaid, arms filled with linens, who
had been heading toward the staircase. He recognized her as Daisy Gallagher,
the housekeeper’s daughter. “May I ask where you’re going?” he queried in a
commanding tone.  
    The young maid curtseyed quickly and replied with a shaky
voice. “I was just on my way upstairs, sir, to change the linens on milady’s
and milord’s bed.”
    “Well, I’m afraid that chore will have to wait,” he replied.
“My lady has requested fresh strawberries for her dinner. I need you to go into
the village and purchase them in the marketplace.”
    “Truly, I can go to the market?” the girl asked, her face
bright with wonder.
    “Yes, you may,” he replied. “But you must be quick about it.
Tell your mother that I’ve requested you go and have her give you some coins
from the kitchen budget.”
    The chambermaid began to scurry away, then sliding to a
stop, turned and curtseyed again to Fitz. “Thank you, sir,” she gushed. “I’ll
be quick, I promise.”
    “See that you are, miss,” he said, biting back another
smile. “See that you are.”

Chapter Nine
    The Gypsy encampment was a thirty-minute ride from the manor
house. It sat in a lovely dell halfway between the forest and the village
square.   Seven enormous oak trees
surrounded the area, their trunks so wide that four adults holding hands around
them just spanned the width.   Their ancient
boughs spread outward in every direction and then finally twisted up into the
sky like maidens performing a May Day dance. The leaves on the trees were
bright green, and the young acorns were nestled securely within their
folds.   Beneath them lay the remnants of
many seasons of fallen leaves and acorns, creating a brown rug below the green
canopy.
    Ten brightly colored caravan wagons formed a circle inside
the protective cover of the oaks and within the circle, small tents and booths
had been set up so the Gypsies could encourage the throng of villagers to try
their hands at games of chance, purchase wares, enjoy the Gypsy dancers or even
have their fortunes told.
    Pausing at the top of the ridge above the dell, Jepson
turned to Meaghan and Monty and cautioned them. “My people have had to learn to
live by their wits,” he said. “They will not steal from you. But if you are
foolish enough to try to win a game of chance with a Gypsy, then you will not
only lose your money, but gain an education.”
    “I’ve been told I’m quite good at games of chance,” Monty
replied. “I cannot believe uneducated Gypsies can best me.”
    Jepson bowed deferentially. “As you say, my lord,” he
answered.
    Meaghan turned on her horse and punched Monty’s arm.
    “ Owww ,” he cried, rubbing the
contact spot.
    “You dolt,” she said, exasperated. “Jepson was merely trying
to help you, not criticize your intelligence or your abilities. Gypsies are not
uneducated; they are the cleverest people I’ve ever met.   They might not have had the advantage to go
to Eton, but they understand things far greater than the things you can learn
in a book.”
    “I don’t understand,” Monty said.
    “The Gypsies have had to learn cunning in order to survive,”
Jepson explained. “They have no home country. They are