The Chocolatier's Wife Read Online Free PDF

slowed down just a little, so that she could see what they were passing more easily. “Please don’t damage anything!” she cried as the carriage careened far too closely to an approaching cart. “I have to live with these people.” Soon they were barreling into the town square, where the debris that had been swept along in her journey seemed to make the day dark as night. The cart shook to a stop, and the rope that was supposed to give her a little security snapped under the strain. She stepped down from the carriage and found her things being stacked neatly beside her just before the carriage whipped away.
    The dirt settled down, the dark strands of her hair came to rest on her shoulders, and it seemed as if she’d appeared out of nowhere.
    Everyone stared at her as she went to the fountain to quench her thirst and wash her face and hands. She could feel their gaze s like insects crawling over her skin, and so she concentrated on being as normal as possible, trying to make some of the my s tique go away.
    She realized the susurrus of sound that seemed to trail after her was not the wind, but whispers, and she sighed and winced again. Ah well. At least she wasn’t accused of murder, so William couldn’t really say anything.
    She straightened her hair, wondering if anyone would speak to her and how much she’d just hurt her chances of a reasonable life in this town.   She pulled her hood back up, trying to feel a little less vulnerable.
    She approached a young man who was pretending to sweep the sidewalk, though the sprites, on their way out of town to wherever they planned to put the carriage, had done the job for him.
    “Where do you keep your prisoners?”
    The young man blushed and pointed to an imposing building on the other side of the street.
    She smiled at him kindly, reminding herself that though these people were used to magic as an abstract idea, it was not something they were exposed to , except on rare occasions. “Thank you very much.”
    She picked up her things and went, with great trepidation, to see to her future.
    The prison was a large, imposing stone structure that housed the garrison for the port. Solders in red and green uniforms either lounged in groups drinking and pla y ing games, or ran on errands as if the world depended on their speed. One pointed her upstairs, and she went up the carved stone steps to the second floor. Another offered to help carry her things, but she declined with a smile. Through a few narrow windows she could see that the barracks were situated to overlook the port.
    A man sat at the desk, a pair of stout oak doors behind him guarded by men with rifles. “I am here to see William Almsley?” she said to him.
    He looked up; then opened the ledger, dipping his quill. “Name? Relation?”
    “Tasmin Bey, his fiancée.”
    He wrote this down. “You may go through the left hand door. That is where we keep those accused of capital crimes. Please leave your bags, miss.”
    She curtsied and did as she was bid. The oak door was unbarred and opened, and she walked down the long, dimly lit hallway to the cages that were the cells.
    There were four cells in this section, and only two were occupied. She knew imm e diately which one must be her intended, simply because she knew that William was not sixty years old, nor, she thought, prone to babbling madly about puppies.
    The daylight showed him well. Hair a little lighter than her own, almost honey co l ored. He looked at her briefly, then away, the afternoon sun showing his eyes to be a rather nice, vibrant shade of blue. His face was a little round, yes, but one could not call him fat. He was stocky. Taller than most but not overly so. She smiled a little. Not unattractive at all, as long as one’s expectations were reasonable.
    She swallowed, trying to speak, wondering where her voice had gone. “So, what nonsense is this I hear about you poisoning our customers? Really, William, is that any way to run a business?” Her