Chapter 24

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A/N: After such a dark chapter last time, I thought this was needed ... (This chapter is one of those responsible for the M rating.)

**Chapter XXIV**

xXx

There is pleasure in the pathless woods, there is rapture in the lonely shore, there is society where none intrudes, by the deep sea, and music in its roar ....

~Lord George Gordon Byron (1788-1824)

I would give you spiced wine to drink from the juice of my pomegranates.
"Let his left hand be under my head
And his right hand embrace me."

~Song of Solomon

xXx

Erik had watched the gypsies raise their tents before, and he moved to help three of the older boys lift one of the canvas sheets, tying it to a center pole. From nearby Armando gaped at him; Erik could feel the boy's unwavering eyes, and turned, impatient.

"Yes?" he snapped. "There is something you wish to say?"

The boy shrugged. "Such common work is beneath a king, Su Majested."

Erik could simply ignore him or snap out another reply to be silent. Instead, he found himself offering a civil remark. "My Queen is weary. I wish only to raise our tent as swiftly as possible, so that she may have a place to lie down and rest."

Evidently emboldened by his lapse of severity the boy gave a toothy grin. Whether in reference to his love for Christine, or because he had not responded in his usual brusque manner with a gypsy, Erik didn't hazard a guess. He again set to work. After a short time, the boy again stopped his own work to stare at Erik once more.

The seconds ticked by.

Erik closed his eyes and blew out a harsh breath, gripping the fold of canvas. "Damn your indolence," he barked, turning on him. "What now?"

The boy didn't seem the least bit daunted by his outburst and Erik knew a moment's grudging admiration at his lack of timidity, which all the other gypsies had exhibited toward him.

"The prisoner. What do you wish us to do with him?"

The prisoner. Ah, yes. Erik grinned at the tempting ideas that came to mind, none of which his Angel would approve. A pity.

"Put him in his own tent, within sight of mine. Be sure his hands are trussed well then tie him to the tent post. When he awakens, should he try to escape, he'll only succeed in pulling the tent down over his fool head." He chuckled at the image his words created.

The boy again stared and Erik let out a soft oath.

"Have you no tongue in your head? Must I pull it out each time?"

"You said when you first came to us that we are not to speak unless you tell us to do so," Armando stated matter-of-factly.

Erik wondered why the gypsy chose now to follow that command when the presumptuous boy had been quite verbal, ever since he'd first met the imp in the forest when he robbed Erik of his dagger. "At least you have learned to follow that instruction well. Yet if you do not bring to my attention that you wish to speak, how will I know it? I do not like being stared at."

"Permission to speak?"

Erik was near ready to throttle the child. "Yes?"

"Who will guard the prisoner's tent?"

Erik thought a moment. "We can spare no one. The Vicomte should pose no problem if you follow my orders and tie him well."

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