Read Online Melissa McShane by Melissa Proffitt - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Melissa Proffitt
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me an age and some to find my way back to you.” She wiped her eyes and her nose. “I swear it, thelis . Don’t send me back!”
“I believe you,” said Zerafine, glancing at Gerrard, who merely shrugged, “and I’m not
going to send you back. Let’s stick closer together this time, and if anything happens, at least we’ll all be together. But I’m sure you won’t get lost again.”
Chapter Six
They didn’t get lost. In just a few minutes’ time they were back at the Atenas compound, as Zerafine had begun to think of it, with no trouble. A traveling coach of great size and gaudiness stood outside their door, its perfectly matched bearers lounging around the gate. Gerrard tensed and looked ready for action, but the men only straightened to attention as the little party approached, with one man stepping out of the way as Gerrard reached for the gate.
As they approached the house, they could hear the murmur of voices within. Zerafine
motioned for Gerrard and Nacalia to remain silent, and she went quietly forward until she could make out words.
“—old sour-patch like Berenica, so just sweet-talk her and keep her out of the way.” That was a woman, young but not too young, with a sharp edge to her voice.
“Kalindi save me from old sour-patches I have to flirt with,” said a second person, male, of indeterminate age. “She’ll probably keep herself out of the way, eager for her comforts and not interested in our problems, emissary or not.”
Zerafine raised her eyebrows. She threw the door open and swept in, Gerrard a step behind.
“This old sour-patch is most definitely interested in your problems,” she announced. “But I’ll be happy to stay out of your way if that’s what the situation calls for. I am nothing if not at your disposal.”
She’d caught both her visitors by surprise, their mouths agape and their faces flushed. Both were dressed in semi-formal tunics and knee-trousers. The young woman wore her dark hair cut short and her face carefully made up despite the heat. The man, possibly in his early thirties, was taller than his companion by a few inches and was remarkably good-looking, with high
cheekbones, a well-chiseled nose, and startling blue eyes in a darkly tanned face. He ran one hand through his curly black hair and said, “Madama thelis , I beg your pardon. This is very embarrassing—”
“Not for me,” Zerafine said cheerfully.
“—really just unforgivable, please accept our apologies,” he continued. “I’m afraid we were expecting someone much older, given your responsibilities, and we—”
“We’re used to dealing with Berenica,” the woman said, as if that explained everything.
“I hope you’re more respectful of her to her face,” Zerafine said, frowning. This was fun.
“We are, thelis , we really are,” the woman said. “But even you must admit—”
“Nothing,” said the man. “Berenica is a fine woman and it was inexcusable of us to make
such comments in your house.”
“But not elsewhere,” Zerafine needled him. He ran his hand through his hair again and
smiled. “You’re having us on,” he said.
“Just a little,” she admitted. “I am Zerafine of Dardagne and this is my sentare , Gerrard of Kionnar.”
The man gave her a nod, acknowledging that she’d won again—he should have introduced
himself first. “My name is Dakariou. I’m the council liaison assigned to work with you. This is my assistant, Giara.”
“Welcome to Portena,” Giara said, still flushed with embarrassment.
“Welcome to my home, however temporary it is,” Zerafine said. She gestured toward the
sitting room. “Please be seated.”
A man wearing a long ribbed tunic in black and red came out of the kitchen bearing a tray of tall blue glasses. Zerafine and Gerrard had left early that morning, apparently too early for the servants to be awake, and this one seemed to be trying to make up for his failure to rise on time.
At least his manner was
“I believe you,” said Zerafine, glancing at Gerrard, who merely shrugged, “and I’m not
going to send you back. Let’s stick closer together this time, and if anything happens, at least we’ll all be together. But I’m sure you won’t get lost again.”
Chapter Six
They didn’t get lost. In just a few minutes’ time they were back at the Atenas compound, as Zerafine had begun to think of it, with no trouble. A traveling coach of great size and gaudiness stood outside their door, its perfectly matched bearers lounging around the gate. Gerrard tensed and looked ready for action, but the men only straightened to attention as the little party approached, with one man stepping out of the way as Gerrard reached for the gate.
As they approached the house, they could hear the murmur of voices within. Zerafine
motioned for Gerrard and Nacalia to remain silent, and she went quietly forward until she could make out words.
“—old sour-patch like Berenica, so just sweet-talk her and keep her out of the way.” That was a woman, young but not too young, with a sharp edge to her voice.
“Kalindi save me from old sour-patches I have to flirt with,” said a second person, male, of indeterminate age. “She’ll probably keep herself out of the way, eager for her comforts and not interested in our problems, emissary or not.”
Zerafine raised her eyebrows. She threw the door open and swept in, Gerrard a step behind.
“This old sour-patch is most definitely interested in your problems,” she announced. “But I’ll be happy to stay out of your way if that’s what the situation calls for. I am nothing if not at your disposal.”
She’d caught both her visitors by surprise, their mouths agape and their faces flushed. Both were dressed in semi-formal tunics and knee-trousers. The young woman wore her dark hair cut short and her face carefully made up despite the heat. The man, possibly in his early thirties, was taller than his companion by a few inches and was remarkably good-looking, with high
cheekbones, a well-chiseled nose, and startling blue eyes in a darkly tanned face. He ran one hand through his curly black hair and said, “Madama thelis , I beg your pardon. This is very embarrassing—”
“Not for me,” Zerafine said cheerfully.
“—really just unforgivable, please accept our apologies,” he continued. “I’m afraid we were expecting someone much older, given your responsibilities, and we—”
“We’re used to dealing with Berenica,” the woman said, as if that explained everything.
“I hope you’re more respectful of her to her face,” Zerafine said, frowning. This was fun.
“We are, thelis , we really are,” the woman said. “But even you must admit—”
“Nothing,” said the man. “Berenica is a fine woman and it was inexcusable of us to make
such comments in your house.”
“But not elsewhere,” Zerafine needled him. He ran his hand through his hair again and
smiled. “You’re having us on,” he said.
“Just a little,” she admitted. “I am Zerafine of Dardagne and this is my sentare , Gerrard of Kionnar.”
The man gave her a nod, acknowledging that she’d won again—he should have introduced
himself first. “My name is Dakariou. I’m the council liaison assigned to work with you. This is my assistant, Giara.”
“Welcome to Portena,” Giara said, still flushed with embarrassment.
“Welcome to my home, however temporary it is,” Zerafine said. She gestured toward the
sitting room. “Please be seated.”
A man wearing a long ribbed tunic in black and red came out of the kitchen bearing a tray of tall blue glasses. Zerafine and Gerrard had left early that morning, apparently too early for the servants to be awake, and this one seemed to be trying to make up for his failure to rise on time.
At least his manner was
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