Aurora Read Online Free PDF

a pair of doves and the soft stirring of the leaves. She saw the patch of bluebells in the near distance and walked quickly toward them. It was cool and sweet-smelling in here, with the slippery bed of fallen pine needles under her feet. A black squirrel sat on his haunches nibbling at a nut. He was tame enough that he didn’t dart off at her approach. She hoped she might be allowed to touch him, but at the last minute he took fright and scampered to a branch to guard his dropped nut jealously. She went on toward the flowers growing in profusion by the stream’s edge, and suddenly heard some noise—the rattle of a harness and the soft thud of horse hooves in the distance. She was a little alarmed, but thought it was very likely the game warden. Clare would have him out today to keep an eye on the gypsies. As a precaution, she ducked behind a tree to determine who the intruder was before showing herself.
    She was glad she had taken the precaution, for it was no game warden, but one of the gypsies. He sat on a sleek black horse, which seemed the proper mount for him. He too was dark and sleek. He stopped at the edge of the stream and stood up in the saddle, throwing both arms out wide. Aurora became alarmed. She thought he was about to go into some gypsy ritual, possibly religious or mystical, but he only yawned, then hopped down from his mount and advanced to the stream. He walked with a soft, silent stride, like a red Indian. There was something furtive, almost feral, about him. He looked about on all sides before he bent down to the stream and lifted a handful of water. He wasn’t drinking it. Malone was right about that. He smelled it, it seemed, then let it out of his hand.
    Before Aurora could move, he began to strip off his shirt. He wore a dark shirt and no jacket, nor any hat either. He soon stood revealed before her, naked to the waist, with a broad tanned chest, and golden shoulders, well muscled. A black shock of hair fell across his forehead as he knelt down to splash water on his face, arms and chest. The horse, untethered, came forward and began drinking from the stream.
    “Do you mind, Baron?” the man said, and shooed the animal away. “What do you think this is, the Ganges?”
    She was surprised he was so well-spoken. A gypsy, she thought he would have a strange accent. Her impulse was to run, but her exit would not be silent, and what if he should chase her? No, best to stay concealed and make not a sound.
    The horse nuzzled forward again, apparently thirsty. “You have neither manners nor breeding, commoner,” the gypsy said, looking at the horse askance. “Can’t you let a gentleman bathe in peace? And as to drinking my bathwater, don’t think to impress me with that self-abasement.”
    Undismayed, the horse drank on. The man leaned forward and immersed his whole head in the cool water. For a minute it seemed he had run mad and was drowning himself. Aurora stared, wondering what to do, but then he raised his head suddenly and shook it like a dog coming out of the water. He brushed the excess from his face with his hands, then turned swiftly to look behind him. His ears must have been excellent, for Aurora heard nothing, but in a few seconds a girl came forward through the trees. She too was gypsy—black hair held in a red kerchief, with golden earrings and a blouse that didn’t seem much to care whether it stayed on or not, but kept shucking off one shoulder. She was young, strikingly attractive in a jungle sort of way. She said some words to the man, while her bold black eyes wandered over his bare torso. She spoke in low tones, her words indistinguishable, but the sound of them not so English as the man’s.
    Soon she was running her fingers over his chest, looking up at him through her lashes with her head tossed back. Hussy! Aurora thought. What a brazen hussy. But perhaps he was her husband. It would take a marriage between them at least to account for such forward behaviour in the young