The Gypsy reached across, took Emerald’s hands, and just held them for a minute, smiling into her eyes. Then she leaned close, her gaze darting from one palm to the other. “Ah…a long life you will see.” Her voice sounded different than it had outside—low and soothing.
Emerald smiled, slightly swaying to the music that drifted in from the clearing.
“And children. Four children.”
Emerald stilled and shook her head. “You cannot tell that from my hands.”
“The hands tell all.” The woman’s tone brooked no argument. She measured Emerald’s white fingers against her own brown ones. “Middling,” she declared. “Life is balanced.” Then, “You.” She swung on Jason, pointing a craggy finger with a curved, lacquered nail. “Your fingers long. Very responsible. Too responsible. You plan too much.”
“Hmm.” Emerald looked toward him speculatively.
He curled his fingers into fists to hide them, crossing his arms. He hadn’t come in here to be analyzed. He’d come in here to be entertained.
And he’d kiss a ghost before he’d believe such nonsense.
The fortune-teller hitched her stool forward and made a humming sound deep in her throat. Laying Emerald’s hands palm up on the table, she traced the lines with a crooked finger. “One of a kind. You go your own way.” She looked closer. “Fate line is broken. A great life change.”
“Oh.” Jason strained to hear Emerald’s whisper over the lively beat of the music. “My father recently died.”
“We all lose our folks.” The fortune-teller shook her head. “Something more than that.”
Outside, the musicians slid into something slower and rather sultry, the violin rising above the other instruments in long, poignant notes. With a light touch, the Gypsy indicated a spot on Emerald’s hand. “A grille, like bars.” Her voice shifted too, matching the rich tempo. “The bars of a gaol, where your heart hides, locked away. You must open the bars and trust.” She stole a glance at Jason.
Uneasy beneath her gaze, he leaned to part the tent’s opening and look outside. A whir of life bustled past the narrow slit: a woman sauntered by with a basket of laundry; a man rolled a wagon wheel along; a child chased a dog in the bright sunshine.
It seemed darker inside when he allowed the tent to close.
“Ah.” The woman nodded, her bobbing earrings gleaming in the lamplight. She touched another place on Emerald’s palm. “A cross. A happy marriage in this lifetime.” Pausing, she looked up. “Far from home.”
Emerald blinked. “Aye, I’m far from home. I live in Scotland.”
An enigmatic smile creased the fortune-teller’s face. She turned Emerald’s hands and lightly skimmed her nails over the backs, making Emerald visibly shiver. “Sensitive. You ready for a man’s touch.”
Jason swallowed hard. Emerald turned red as the woman flipped her hands again. “Mount of the Moon, high and full. A heart bold, creative, beguiling.”
Very accurate, Jason thought. Bold—last night flashed into his mind—and beguiling.
Alarmingly so.
Black Gypsy eyes fastened on his and held steady while the music pulsed in the background. “A man in love with you,” she said to Emerald while still commanding Jason’s gaze, “must respect your independence…if he wishes to hold your heart.”
“I’m not—” Jason started.
“Shush!” The harsh word vibrated in contrast to the sensuous violin. The woman swung back to Emerald and pointed a finger at her chest. “The green talisman…” Emerald’s hand went to her amulet, and the woman nodded. “When it changes hands, a change of heart.”
Emerald’s fingers clenched around it. “It will never change hands, not while I live.”
The Gypsy shrugged, a movement so expressive it spoke volumes without words. The music stopped. A hush of silence enveloped the tent.
Emerald rose, breaking the spell. “I thank you.”
“My pleasure, me lady.”
“I think we should leave,” she said to Jason. Her voice was very quiet. “It was time to go almost before we arrived.”
Rising, he bumped his head on the low ceiling. The woman stood as well. “I come see your pretty horse.” She followed them out and watched them mount.
“My hat!” Emerald clapped a hand to her head.
“I get it, me lady.”
The Gypsy disappeared into her tent and returned with the feathered hat. Moving closer, she rose to her toes and set it on Emerald’s bent head, then put a gnarled hand on her arm. “You not like your fortune?”
“It was very…interesting.” Jason heard the catch in Emerald’s voice. “I’m afraid, though, I found it a wee bit confusing.”
“All will come clear in time,” the woman predicted. “Wait here, me lady.” She hurried off toward the fire, returning with one of the lace handkerchiefs the women were working on there.
“It’s lovely,” Emerald said sincerely. “But I told you I have no money.”
“We’ve been paid.” Black eyes sparkled up at Jason. “You keep, to remember.”
Emerald tucked the intricate hanky into her sleeve. “I won’t forget.”
“You come back?”
“Not here, I’m afraid. But I will dance with your people again. At home.”
The woman reached to grasp Emerald by the hand. “Farewell, me lady.” With a nod at Jason, she ducked back into her tent.
Jason steered Chiron toward the road. He remained mute until they were out of earshot. “So…you’ve danced with the Gypsies before.”
“Aye, many times.”
“You’ve camped with them, then. During your travels.” It made perfect sense.
“My travels?” Her laughter floated back on the breeze. “Until now, I’ve never been farther from Leslie than Edinburgh. Twice. I told you, Jase—a group of them camps by Leslie each year.”
Hang it if she wasn’t convincing.
He almost believed her.
FORTY-FOUR
“I DON’T believe it,” Caithren said later when they’d stopped at the Lion in Buckden for dinner. “I don’t believe any of what that Gypsy said.”
Jason spooned soup into his mouth, following it with a gigantic bite of bread. “But you believe in ghosts.”
“What do ghosts have to do with this?”
He rolled the dice and took two markers off the backgammon board they’d set on the table between them. “Why should you believe in ghosts but not fortune-telling?”
“Dukkering,” she corrected crossly. “They
