The Third Son by Elise Marion Read Free Book Online Page A

dark brown eyes told Damien that she was not the one he was looking for. Applause signaled the end of the girl’s dance and she disappeared behind the stage amid whistles and stamping feet. Damien waited until the noise had died down to a gentle hum of conversation before turning to the bartender.
    “Pardon me sir,” Damien called, gaining the bartender’s attention. “Another ale, please.”
    The rather large man behind the counter eyed Damien warily as he refilled the glass. Damien had dressed in the plainest clothing he could manage, but knew that he stood out in the more simply garbed crowd. He was hoping to avoid attention and wanted to pass as a traveling merchant or some such. Damien slid a coin across the bar to the man.
    “I am looking for someone , A Gypsy girl, a dancer. She performed at the king’s palace last week.”
    He realized his mistake instantly. The bartender raised himself to his full height, towering over Damien’s six feet two inches. He gripped the counter tightly and leaned forward to look Damien in the eye. Damien could have sworn he had heard the wood groaning in protest against the barkeep’s beefy hands.
    “See here mister,” the man said, his voice like hard-edged steel. “The girls what dance here is under my protection and they ain’t go time to be bothered with the likes o’ you. This ain’t that kinda place and if that’s what you be looking for, there’s a brothel not far from here!”
    Damien’s reply was smothered by a commotion near the stage. The music had started up again and a lithe figure in black had entered. The men seemed excited about this particular performance and Damien forgot his questioning of the bartender. It was her!  He knew the moment she started to dance, her arms lifted high above her head, her hips moving in rapid, hypnotizing circles. The other dancer had been good, but this girl’s movements were so natural, so much a part of her. She made the intricate steps seem effortless as she swayed and dipped, working the crowd into a frenzy. Golden eyes flashed, their brilliance further enhanced by kohl. Even the guitar player watched her, his nearly black eyes following her every move from beneath the hat pulled low over his face.
    He watched, spellbound, until the final chords of the guitar faded away in the dimly lit room. The girl bowed graciously and even blew a kiss to the cheering crowd before disappearing behind the curtain.
    Damien watched the curtain for a few moments, searching for any sign of movement from behind the stage. The guitar player disappeared behind the curtain as well, but no one else came or went. Damien supposed her performance was the last of the evening, because most of the men were leaving. A few stayed behind for more ale and flirting with the serving girls, but the small tavern had mostly gone quiet. Hoping that she hadn’t left by some back exit, Damien turned once more to the bartender.
    “Perhaps I gave you the wrong impression,” he began politely, hoping the burly man wouldn’t break him to pieces before he could finish. The large man sighed impatiently and dropped the towel he’d been holding. He reached across the bar and grabbed Damien up by his lapel, nearly dragging him across the counter.
    He growled, his nose mere inches from Damien’s. “I’m done warning you. I think it’s time you left. And you’d best do it quietly or else you’ll have to be carried out!”
    “Leave the poor man alone, Dominic,” purred a velvety voice from over Damien’s shoulder. “I’m sure he’s harmless.”
    Dominic gave Damien a mind-numbing shake before setting him back in his stool and turned back to his work behind the counter. The Gypsy girl settled onto the stool beside Damien, fixing him with her piercing stare. Damien’s mouth went dry and he found himself unable to look away.
    Her face was now unveiled and Damien found that she was just as lovely as he knew she would be. High cheekbones stood out beneath her