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Date Posted: 13:22:28 12/08/11 Thu
Author: celtgirl
Subject: Here's a snippet that didn't make it into the final book and it's a touch incomplete, but I believe you'll get the gist nonetheless>>>
In reply to: cg 's message, "Come in out of the cold my lovelies, there's a peat fire in the hearth, the kettle is humming on the Aga and the whiskey is chilling in the boot room. :)" on 14:31:36 12/01/11 Thu

copyright 2011 Cindy Brandner

Pamela awakened slowly, her sleep of the variety that makes a person feel as though they’ve drowned most pleasantly, and is resurfacing at leisure. Remnants of the night before stole in, firelit flashes of the vardos, the dancing, and then the hours in the caravan itself. She smiled to herself, and stretched a little, her body sore and stiff in a most enjoyable manner.

“Havin’ a nice dream then, are ye?” said a voice nearby.

She cracked one eye open, to find Casey leaning up on one elbow, a knowing grin on his face. She flushed and closed her eye again.

“Everyone’s gone,” Casey said. She rolled over and looked out the small gable over the bed. Beyond their own caravan the encampment was empty, with only the ashes of last night’s fire to say anyone had passed time there.

“Yevgena never lingers long in one place,” Pamela said, “though I’m surprised we didn’t hear them leave.”

Casey gave her a pointed look. “I can’t say I am, last night was a unique experience to say the least, I don’t think I would have heard an army pass through at a few points.”

She flushed in earnest then. Though their bed was always passionate, last night had been on another level entirely. She had been utterly fierce in her need, and Casey had the scratches and bite marks to prove it. It had been both strange and wonderful.

Casey leaned down to nuzzle the fine skin of her neck and she sighed, arching into the rasp of his beard as it started to travel south.

Just then there was a decided thump to the side of the caravan, sending the teacups to swinging wildly from their hooks.

“What the hell was that?” Casey said, head popping up with a look of profound annoyance at the interruption.

“There isn’t anyone left here.” She pulled the quilts up to her chin, as he climbed down, bare-arsed naked to investigate who had come to call. "For the love of decency man, put some pants on at least, will you?”

“There’s not a soul to see me, woman, an’ last I checked my bein’ naked didn’t bother ye in the least.”

The man had a point, she thought, rolling over for a better view.

Casey opened the hinged window that sat over the small, ceramic sink.

A silken nose, large and wet, poked into the window taking up the entire width of it. The nose gusted out a great breath of air and the smell of oats and apples filled the caravan.

“Phouka!” Pamela said in delight, and slid down off the bed, a quilt clutched to her chest.

“It’s yer horse,” Casey said, rather unnecessarily, and backed up a bit. He wasn’t overfond of horses as a species, but he was particularly unimpressed with Phouka, who stood sixteen hands high and was known to have a will o’ the wisp temperament, not to mention the horse had been a gift to his wife from His Lordship, James Kirkpatrick. Phouka sensed Casey’s discomfort and never failed to exploit it upon their few chance meetings.

Pamela was already fussing over him, rubbing her face against his and murmuring the nonsensical things she always did with the big demon. The horse put his nose over Pamela’s bare shoulder, nuzzling her neck, and grinned at Casey, curling his pewter lips back in a display of enormous white teeth and smug one-upmanship.

Casey cocked a dark brow at the horse and bared his own teeth in reply. Phouka merely nuzzled into Pamela’s hair, and then nibbled delicately on her ear with his big silky lips, setting her to laughing. Casey sighed and looked about for the clothes he had shed in some haste the night before.

“Bloody good thing yer demon has show up,” he said to his wife, “for someone has to pull this damn caravan home.”

He couldn't swear to it, but he thought the horse stuck his tongue out at him.

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