Beautiful Beast (Gypsy Heroes #3)(87)

He shakes his head and whistles. The horse flies toward us, mane flying. A beautiful sight. It stops in front of him and he carefully cups its face and in hush tones speaks to it in a language I cannot understand. Maybe Gaelic.

‘What are you saying to him?’ I ask.

‘I am introducing you to him. We gypsies have always talked to our animals.’

‘What are you telling him about me?’

‘That’s our secret.’

He takes my hand and brings it to the horse. I feel its hot damp breath on my palm. I touch its cheek and see a flare of panic in its eyes. It paws the ground. He cups its face and soothes it.

‘What’s his name?’

‘Thor.’

‘He loves you,’ I whisper.

‘I love him,’ he says simply and kisses the horse between the eyes.

With a clean hop he mounts the horse and, sitting squarely on it, reaches for my hand. With me securely seated behind him we return to the house. The journey back seems much faster and too soon we are outside the front entrance of the house. He dismounts and helps me down.

I look into his face and already he has changed, become distant. He regards me carefully. ‘I have other matters to attend to and will not join you for breakfast. After breakfast Ian will take you back to London.’

Other matters to attend to. And suddenly I remember the woman he spent the night with. A flash of jealousy rips through me. Fuck her. Fuck them both.

‘Thanks,’ I call out casually as I walk away from him.

I am dying to, but I don’t watch him gallop away.

Inside the house, I find Maria hovering in the living room. She seems to be fluffing some cushions, but she must have been at the window watching us arrive.

‘Good morning,’ she says brightly.

‘Morning.’

‘Well then, young lass, what would you like for breakfast? Waffles, cereal, full English, continental, or something different?’

‘Continental sounds good.’

‘Excellent. Breakfast will be served in the dining room in ten minutes.’

After she leaves I wander over to the window. How strange it all is. Me in this house. Me on a horse with Jake Eden. Ten minutes later I go into the dining room. It is exactly like the rest of the house. Rich and splendid and unlived in.

I eat my warm, perfectly flaky croissant with lashings of butter and jam and drink my cup of freshly brewed coffee alone. But as I am finishing my food Jake appears at the door.

His hair is still wet from his shower and he is dressed in a charcoal shirt, black trousers, a white silk tie and maroon shoes. I remember again the way he looked coming in from the mist, at one with his beast. Uncivilized and utterly beautiful. He is holding a box in his hand.

I stare at him, surprised. I did not expect to see him again this morning. I brush croissant crumbs from my fingers and wipe them on the napkin on my lap.

‘I got you something.’ He seems awkward, totally at odds with his usual macho bravado.

I stand, the chair scraping on the carpet. ‘You got me a present,’ I say stupidly.

He comes toward me and holds it out. I take it cautiously. It is a square box, five inches by five. It is wrapped in dark gray paper with a broad red ribbon. It screams expensive.

I undo the ribbon and tear the paper open. Inside a transparent plastic box is a spray of white orchids. The stem is immersed in a small plastic tube of water and attached to a comb-clip.


‘For your hair,’ he says softly. ‘Wear it tomorrow night… For me.’

White flowers. I remember the poem: Somewhere there’s beauty. Somewhere there’s freedom. I nod slowly, my eyes locked on his. Hypnotized by what I see in them. ‘So you’re coming to the club tomorrow?’

‘Yes. Wait for me?’

I register a surge of uncontrollable joy inside my body. It makes my ears burn. I smile—happy, wistful.

‘And one more thing—Miss Mornington didn’t stay the night.’





SIX


It is a slow night at the club and I worry about how awkward it will be to see Shane there, but as it turns out he does not come in. At two Melanie and I take a cab back to the apartment.

‘I’m hungry,’ I say walking to the fridge. ‘Do you want something?’

‘Get the ice cream out,’ she says flinging herself on the sofa.

‘Chocolate or vanilla?’

‘Both.’

I bring two bowls of ice cream out into the living room and Melanie is taking crumpled, damp notes out of her bra.

‘Whoa,’ I say, kicking off my shoes and curling up on the couch opposite her. ‘I thought we all have to use ECs.’

‘Yeah, we do,’ she admits. ‘But some guys want me to have cash. They know I’d lose twenty percent during cash out and they’d rather I had the whole thing.’

‘Does Brianna know?’

‘Sure.’

‘So how much money do you make in a night then?’ I ask curiously.

‘About a thousand on a bad night and three to five on a good night.’

My eyes widen. ‘Three to five?’

‘Why? How much do you make?’ She looks at me with narrowed assessing eyes.

‘After paying the house fee and other costs about three hundred quid. Once I made seven hundred.’