An Accidental Seduction Read Free

conquests, she thought. Regardless of class or financial disparity, women tended to make foolish mistakes regarding men like Tamas. She had learned that much long ago. “I do not believe my funds are any of your affair, madam,” she said.
    The woman pressed her gloved fingertips together. “There you are wrong.”
    “Oh?” Savaana feigned interest. She was, after all, no stranger to the stage. As for El Rey, he felt no need to be congenial, and nibbled at the thorny forage that grew alongside the ragged riverbank. “And what makes you think so?”
    “A hundred pounds sterling.”
    Savaana lifted her hand to steady herself on Rey’s prominent withers. A hundred pounds would be enough to pay for Grandfather’s tonic for the rest of his life. Enough to allow them to return to the continent, where their income might be less but the climate was more favorable. “A hundred pounds?”
    “So you’re interested.”
    Savaana executed a casual shrug. A master performer. “That depends.”
    “On?”
    She had been trained to haggle since her first memory, but there seemed little point in pretending with this woman. Tamas had most probably told her something of their financial circumstances. “On whose life would be forfeit,” Savaana said, and the woman laughed.
    The sound was low and husky, filled with steady confidence and a lifetime of condescendence. Savaana automatically stowed the haughty cadence in her memorybanks, hoarding it for another time, another character she might someday be. For she didn’t just act, she became . It was, her grandfather told her, what made the crowds continue to throng to see her. She was believable. And it was probably true, for while performing, she herself believed. Sometimes she was a princess. Sometimes she was a thief. Sometimes, in fact, she was both.
    “I don’t need you to kill anyone,” the woman continued, and though most of her face was hidden from the scattered moonlight, her lips could be seen quite clearly. They were plump, full bottomed, and tight-pursed with disapproval. “But then you’re a Gypsy, aren’t you? So perhaps that wouldn’t concern you.”
    Savaana smiled coolly. Sometimes it was difficult to find herself following a performance. Not now, however, not when faced with such blatant stupidity. True, she had been dealing with such preconceived foolishness for as long as she could recall, but the insults still burned, still seared her soul and made her realize she was not one of the pampered Gajo who desired but disdained her. She was Rom, by choice if not by blood.
    Cueing El Rey to follow, she turned toward camp. Sometimes there was no need to respond to the irritating jibes, but a noise scratched from out of the woods to her left, and she found she could not quite ignore the woman’s toxic barbs.
    “Best wishes on your return to camp,” she said, lettingher voice take on just a sliver of drama. “And do not worry about the wolves. Rarely do they attack before full dark.”
    Though Savaana didn’t turn toward the other, she could feel the lady’s immediate tension and grinned into the darkness as she stepped away. Revenge might be churlish and immature, but it was deliciously satisfying.
    “Wolves?”
    “’Tis only a small pack,” she said. “By Romany standards.”
    Lady Tilmont hurried through the trees now, noisy in her haste, and Savaana all but laughed aloud.
    “Holy hell.” Her words were breathy as she scrambled along in Rey’s broad wake. “Perhaps you expect an apology.”
    Savaana continued on, amused despite her anger.
    “He beats me. My husband,” Tilmont said. She had stopped dead in the faint trail behind Savaana. “I can’t bear it anymore.”
    Savaana halted, then turned slowly to look at the woman. Silence ticked away. That sense of familiarity tickled her again, but she no longer cared. Tamas’s cast-offs were no concern of hers. “You lie,” she said. Her voice was even and dramatic in the evening stillness, as if