The Third Son by Elise Marion Read Free Book Online

apologies,” he said more calmly when the trembling maid curtsied before him.
    “Your Grace,” she mumbled before turning to go back inside. 
    “Wait!” he called, watching the Gypsy wagon grow smaller and smaller against the night sky as it rolled away. 
    “Yes, Your Grace?”
    “Would you happen to know where the Gypsies live?”
    “Live, Your Grace?” she said with a slight chuckle. “The Gypsies do not live anywhere. They are a wandering people, never staying in one place overlong. They usually make camp on the outskirts of town when they are here.”
    “My thanks,” Damien sighed, wondering how on earth he would be able to find the girl before the Gypsy troupe left the city for good. 
    “Oh wait, Your Grace!” the young maid exclaimed. “I just remembered. A group of Gypsies settled here some years ago. They all live in the same part of town. One of them even owns a tavern or some such place.”
    Damien nodded thoughtfully, weighing his options. What were his chances that the Gypsy girl lived right here the city? 
    “Thank you,” he said before turning to go back through the servant’s entrance. Damien took his time, walking at a leisurely pace, his mind filled with images of a woman with skin like bronze. He found the idea of returning to the party distasteful , and had had enough of the carousing, though he knew the affair would last long into the early hours, until the wine and food were depleted. Remembering that Davina was awaiting him in his chambers, he turned toward his wing of the palace, desperate for some form of distraction. Tonight he would help himself to the generous pleasures sure to be found in his bed. Hopefully, by morning, he would have driven away all thoughts of flashing amber eyes burning themselves indefinitely into his memory.
    ****
     
    Damien had been unable to forget her. No amount of time spent in Davina’s bed could chase away the image of the mysterious Gypsy dancer from his mind. He had searched for a week before finding the Gypsy troupe camped out on the outskirts of town. After a few minutes of wandering through the colorfully painted wagons and tents, Damien was able to confirm that no one in this particular group had ever performed at Largess Hall. Damien was relieved at this discovery . H is search for her would become that much easier now that he knew she lived within the city. H ow was he to find her , w alk about the street amongst the commoners, inquiring about a dancing girl with amber eyes? 
    Then, he remembered what the maid at the palace had told him about a tavern owned by Gypsies. He had heard of the place before, having frequented a few taverns and brothels in the less reputable part of town. The Golden Dancer boasted beautiful dancing girls and Damien thought it best to begin his search there.
    He knew the only way to clear his thoughts of the girl was to find her and lead her to his bed as soon as possible. Then perhaps he could get on with his life with some semblance of normalcy.
    He stood near the entrance of The Golden Dancer, his eyes searching the smoke-filled room. Several round tables and chairs, surprisingly clean, were placed in an open circle around a small stage jutting out from the back wall. Men smoking cigars and holding mugs of ale sat in groups, watching a young girl wrapped in a diaphanous green creation and matching veil move about on the narrow stage. One of the male dancers he remembered from the palace sat on a low stool toward the back of the stage, strumming his guitar smoothly. Serving girls in simple blouses and ruffled skirts moved through the crowd, delivering drinks and avoiding the grabbing hands of some of the bolder men.
    Damien found an empty stool at the bar and settled himself there, signaling the barkeeper. A mug of ale in one hand, Damien watched the dancer on stage with interest. The girl was skilled, her curvaceous body moving in perfect timing to the rhythm created by the guitar player. A glimpse at a pair of