Read Online Yearn by Tobsha Learner - Free Book Online Page A

precisely and he feared that any deviation, any action that was not in the actual account of the ritual, might destroy the sorcery.
    As the coach entered the wood, D’Arcy was pleased to see that the clearing he’d chosen was as secluded as he remembered—a small plateau set slightly above a circle of oak and birch trees. It was a full moon and the canopy of branches and leaves threw a lattice of shadow and light upon the grassy carpet beneath. He glanced over at his companions, young, eager, uneducated, and now drunk. They had no idea of the spiritual importance of the undertaking, and he worried they lacked the sophistication to understand. This disturbed him, taking, as he did, the anthropologist’s view of another’s culture: he felt it essential that they approach the experience with the same reverence they might approach a religious ceremony. “But for them it is a mere orgy, a ribald, indecent good time,” he observed silently to himself. “After all, you’ve hired two whores and a chimney sweep—it’s a far cry from an eighteenth-century Polynesian princess, a high priest, and a priestess. Would the ritual still work?” These doubts and a multitude of others had plagued him the whole two hours of travel, and yet, now that they had arrived, he was condemned to carry out his plan.
    The coach pulled up with a jolt, sending Amelia flying into the biographer’s lap, cleavage spilling over. She was a slender, heavy-breasted redhead with pale skin that looked to be almost transparent. Prudence had told him she was very popular with a couple of the brothel’s painter clients. This gave the young biographer some hope that Amelia herself might be used to sexual trysts of a more artistic sensitivity. Laughing, and with her face still in his lap, she smiled, then pursed her lips suggestively. D’Arcy’s member hardened despite his determination to maintain a dignified detachment throughout, and to his chagrin, he blushed. “Steady on, Amelia, we ain’t even started yet!” Harry cracked, and again the coach rocked with laughter. Just then the coachman, a sober, cadaverous-faced man D’Arcy had bribed heavily to maintain both his silence and discretion, opened the door and the three younger people disembarked in a flurry of petticoats and heavy perfume. Without a word the coachman clambered atop the vehicle and handed down the small trunk and crate containing the now snuffling piglet, which finally seemed to have had a premonition of its fate.
    The three stood now a little dazed on the damp grass, waiting for some direction from D’Arcy.
    â€œI have some robes for us, if you would all like to change into them while I arrange the ground cloth upon which we are to execute the ritual.” He tried to sound authoritarian and somber. Prudence glanced dubiously over at the piglet.
    â€œWhat about the pig? You ain’t said nothing ’bout the pig.”
    â€œThat’s right, sir,” Amelia chimed in. “I don’t do animals.” She looked anxiously over at Harry, whose bemused gaze slid back to D’Arcy.
    â€œFear not, the pig is to be sacrificed to the goddess,” D’Arcy retorted brusquely.
    â€œSacrificed?” Prudence squealed in unison with the pig, which seemed to have understood. With a grin, Harry ran his finger across his throat to illustrate, a gesture that sent the girls into a cascade of shrill shrieks, more of delight than fear, D’Arcy noted.
    Walking over to the small glade open to the sky, he threw down the ground cloth, then used a small compass to arrange it so that the symbols faced in the correct directions beneath the stars. He pulled out the large clock he had brought and consulted it. It was three-thirty a.m.; according to the Royal Astronomical Society dawn was to be at four-fifty that morning—they had just over an hour.
    â€œTime to get acquainted,” he announced to the