I wouldn’t go to bed smelling of the gypsy, though. I poured tepid water into the bowl on the washstand, wet and soaped a flannel, and then I scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed. 6: Nicolae/Syeira
“Where have you been, my son?”
Nicolae started and almost tripped over his feet. “Syeira?”
“Who else?”
Dammit. He’d hoped to slip into his caravan before the old woman realised he’d even been gone. “I was just out for a stroll.”
She cocked her head at him. “Is that truly so?”
“It is.”
She wrinkled her nose. “And yet you reek of sex.”
“What if I dallied for a bit?” In spite of his challenge, he made a sign behind his back. The old woman was not one to trifle with. “There’s no harm in that, is there?”
“No,” she agreed, and he released the breath he’d been holding and relaxed his fingers.
He should have known better. She continued, “But that depends on who you dallied with.”