Nicholas: The Lords of Satyr Read Online Free PDF Page A

with such a surfeit of good looks, he appeared a god among mortals.
    “Leaving?” he inquired, noting her uncertain pose.
    Jane faltered and then simply stared into those strange eyes. She stood frozen in indecision, knowing she looked the idiot. But she couldn’t seem to help it.
    At her continued silence, the man’s brow rose in question. He’d politely seated his lady, fetched an additional chair for himself from somewhere outside the tent, and now stood patiently waiting for her to be seated. Perhaps he was accustomed to striking women dumb at first sight.
    “I hope my gold will prevail upon you to tarry?” he asked gently.
    The pipe slid from Jane’s slack jaw. She barely caught it before it bounced on the table. The mishap had the effect of pulling her eyes from his, thus breaking the spell. Her legs wobbled, forcing her to sit.
    Embarrassed, she gathered her wits and straightened to find him seated, studying her.
    Hoping to divert his attention, she began to caress the crystal ball before her. Though she didn’t really employ it in her trade, it helped foster the illusion in people’s minds that she was a gypsy fortuneteller.
    “What are you called, mystic?” Nick asked. His Italian was shaded with a slight accent, she’d noted. But the language sounded comfortable on his tongue and was most likely his native one. His English was fluent but less certain. She guessed he’d been schooled in England or by an English tutor, at any rate. The commanding timbre of his voice indicated he was a man accustomed to having his demands met, which implied he was wealthy.
    “Jane,” she replied.
    He settled back in his seat with a smugly amused expression. “Jane the mystic?”
    Signorina Rossini looked puzzled. “I thought your name was Madame Fibbioni.”
    “Jane be me given name,” Jane lied, lapsing into the fractured cockney-Italian blend she’d developed for such occasions.
    “Well, Madame Jane Fibbioni,” said Nick, “what is your usual fee for reading palms?”
    The signorina answered for her.
    “I tell me fortunes singly,” Jane announced, belatedly remembering to disguise her voice as a throaty cackle.
    “Oh!” said Signorina Rossini. “In that case, I should withdraw.”
    Jane drew in a breath of alarm. She couldn’t take him alone! The idea was horrifying.
    A masculine hand over the signorina’s stopped her from rising. “Hold a moment. Would triple your fee convince you to make an exception?” he inquired of Jane. He lay the money on the table atop the beaded scarf she’d draped over it.
    Jane stared at his coin in indecision.
    “Is business so robust you can turn down such an offering?” he cajoled.
    No, it wasn’t. With a sweep of her hand, she raked the money into the coin purse in her lap.
    “Yer takin’ a chance lettin’ yer lady hear yer future,” she warned. “But if it’s yer wish, then oiyl see if the spirits be willin’.”
    “Grazie. We shall await our fortunes at the spirits’ leisure, dear mystic,” he said.
    “I make no claim to the title of mystic,” she told him with a shake of her head. “I be a simple teller of fortunes.”
    “Do let her tell yours first,” encouraged Signorina Rossini. “It’s very exciting.”
    Nick smiled down at her.
    The pretty signorina hardly struck Jane as the type who would appeal to an earthy male such as this. However, he appeared to be truly under the spell of her attractions. His look when set upon her was hungry enough to make her own skin tingle under its indirect impact. No wonder the signorina had fallen for his honeyed words.
    From the distance came the eerie sound of water being pressured through the pipes of the grand Water Organ in the garden for the guests’ amusement. Jane fiddled with the strings of the coin purse in her lap, loathe to begin what must be begun.
    “Begin by placing your hand in hers,” the signorina prompted to Nick.
    “As you command.”
    His hand settled onto the scarf within Jane’s