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The Gypsy King


Published by: eXtasy Books

Author : Morgan Rush

ISBN :978-1-55487-068-4

Page :296

Word Count :74000

Publication Date :2011-06-19

Series : #

Heat Level :

Available Formats : The Gypsy King (pdf) , The Gypsy King (prc) , The Gypsy King (epub) , The Gypsy King (mobi)

Category : Historical Romance

  • Product Code: 978-1-55487-068-4


When one brother murders another in a jealous rage and scars his intended, fate sets the wheels in motion. With her love on the floor in a puddle of blood and nothing to live for, her white dress torn and bloody, Veronique climbs the footbridge spanning the Chamois River. With a last look to the sky and prayer winged into the night, she lets go. Her leap drops her toward the embracing grave of the dark water, but the arms of destiny reach out and a falling star is intercepted. Rescued by a passing gypsy who delivers her to the kumpania, this ordinary, yet headstrong, young woman must find her lust for life and learn to love again. Amid a family of mysterious and lustful gypsies in the sweeping countryside of southern France in the 1930’s, the Gypsy King knows all and reveals little.

She found herself squirming in her chair, but unable to enjoy the lust that was beginning to rise in her. He put the wine and pipe down on the table and reached firmly for her. She looked at his nut-brown hands and admired the heavy gold rings on each finger. She thought they would feel much rougher, but they were surprisingly strong and delicate. A familiar rush to her mound pushed its way through the wine haze, surrounding her like morning fog.

He spoke in a tone that reminded her of the dark, black river flowing lazily through their valley. As he caressed her hands, he was gently pulling each of her fingers between his and she could feel the tension seeping from her palm to the ends of her fingertips, then dissipating entirely.

“But there are things you do not know about your past, and your future, that you cannot see right here, right now.”

“Don’t talk to me in riddles, please, Raklo,” she implored. “I don’t have a choice about these things anymore. My fiancé took any choices I had away from me when he killed his brother, Ahndray, the man I loved. He also left me with this on my face.” She pointed to her chin and ran her fingers up to her ear, caressing her wound like a birthmark that must be accepted, but not necessarily admired.

Raklo reached for her hand and put it to his jaw.

She rubbed his wound lightly, but with passion and understanding. She could not help but be stunned at the coincidence, and she could tell he sensed her curiosity.

“We will talk about these later,” he replied. “I know you do not understand and that is why you are here tonight. It is my responsibility to the gods of fate to show you enough that you can make your choice, even though you do not know the weight of your decision or the ramifications to all of us.”

She was getting frustrated and her emotions were getting raw from the wine. She replied curtly, “Show me what I need to know, Gypsy King. I’m not afraid. You and your family saved my life. If you need me to do something, anything, for you and your kumpania, I will do it. But I don’t understand at all what you are saying.”

He stood up and reached for her hand.

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