How do you explain a mistress to a wife...

-And would it make that much difference? she asked and was startled by the violence of his gaze.

-Damn it, girl. Of course, it made a difference. - Richard felt slowly the anger ignite, slow and dangerous.

-You did not ask. I would have told you if I had asked! - the answer was accompanied by new tears.

- Count the devil, girl! Can we be friends? "It was a desperate proposition on his part. I would appeal to everything. Surely the girl would no longer want his caresses. She would accept. It was what she deserved. - God, I can't stay like this fighting with you. I know that at the moment you can't and can't even stand to be close to me, but... It will change with time. We can, who knows, be friends. After all, it was my responsibility...

-Friends? I'm not your responsibility! Marriage is not for friends! She had given up on keeping all control and was sobbing nonstop. - Go away from here! It is not friendship that leads two people to marry. - Any effort to regain self-control was impossible. - There is romance. affection...

Morgan stared at her in astonishment, releasing the tension in his rigid body.

- Romance? Is that the problem? - he couldn't believe it could be that easy. - Curse. He couldn't imagine it would have made such a difference!

- Do you think you didn't make Mayra appear as your wife? I am not an adherent of your god. I don't accept the story of two wives at all like most of your friends do out there.

Richard burned in a personal hell. A man should be cursed with two women arguing.

-We can at least discuss...

-Right. To discuss. On one condition. Do not lie to me. Or put on capes like your damn brother giving one that's the slave master. There will never be peace between us. I'm not just any demented person who isn't capable of making his own decisions...

-You're being intolerant...

"Well, just tell the damn truth once!" Cassie yelled at him.

-All right. You crashed into my life like a hurricane. I and Mayra are not well... We weren't more friends than lovers, but...

- Well, solve your life before complicating mine. Just stay away.

The carriage stopped at dusk beside an old house far from the centre of town, where the colourful tents in the square were being pitched and beginning to be prepared and arranged in the final preparations for the great foundation party. There were still a few days to go.

The woman in her dark velvet travel cloak and hood impatiently hid her face at the hatch with her knuckles.

She was anxious. Anxious and apprehensive. And she shouldn't have agreed to that date. Sighing she handheld the small bag while she waited.

It was an unnecessary danger to wander these streets. The place was deserted. There, anything could be achieved. Maybe he wasn't in Chabone. Perhaps the house was empty. And, just maybe, she was wrong to mix with that kind of people, doing business.

Only Morgan was back with the Black Coral in Chabone. He hadn't even looked for her. In the past, Mayra still accepted being abandoned by her former lover because she had found a better attraction to satiate her lust and ensure power and money. Philip Morgan! Her informants said that the ship's captain was too busy with a ragged young girl and Mayra was seething with anger and jealousy. There was Faith who was still alive, of course. But it was Kassuim who unnerved her. Only the idea struck her.

The rumours were absurd and they ran. Mayra, the beautiful courtesan so desired in Chabone, pursed her lips in irritation. Kassuim Macklister would regret having crossed his path.

The gipsy remembered it with bitterness. The dagger she held had not missed the coup de grâce in taking revenge on that privateer. The girl might have survived but the bastard child she was carrying couldn't have been so lucky. She couldn't imagine heirs who could threaten her if she became the future Duchess of Scarlet.

Morgan had only to forget the foolishness of looking for the unfortunate girl who had saved his life in that ambush. She sighed. Her informants at the time had discovered that the young cabin boy from the Star of Tomorrow was a woman. Only she was estranged from Morgan by Thalagar's intervention. The situation was satisfactory, wasn't it? She could bear it. It was enough to have Morgan charm in her charms. She had been forced to put up with far worse things.

There were no agreements or pacts with sorcerers and then ignored them.

The door opened and she restlessly glanced around again before letting herself be led into the building. The place was pretty simple. She would have expected something more from the man who was a sorcerer and leader of the Order of Light. Terrible things were said about that man. He was dedicated to black magic. For years sorcerers had been hunted down and burned.

The beautiful gipsy was young. A smile lit up the crimson lips that stood out against the Jambo skin. The hood when removed revealed an exuberant cascade of black and silky hair on the girl with a well-shaped body and full breasts.

She was a gipsy, or at least she had been, before she was kicked out of the village by her father, Vladimir. The father who was the leader of their people saw with unyielding eyes Mayra's admiration for wealth and power and was determined to provide a suit for his daughter. Hurts and wounds always kept the hatred burning. Now perhaps the situation could be promising. If only what Thalagar had said was true... Mayra could hardly believe that Kassuim was the daughter of the man who had killed Morgan's parents. Luck beckoned. She would take care to ward off the ragged girl and secure Morgan's interest after the disillusionment. She was so sure of what she had agreed to with that date.

Mayra was determined to rekindle the old passion that the Coral Negro privateer had for her.

The sound of the door being opened startled her and she suddenly fearful entered the room lit by the flames of the fireplace. The image of James de Macgrover in his white robe stood out in the gloom.

"Did you bring what you promised me?" JackWill stared at the woman with interest. No one there knew it wasn't James.

That man's eyes gleamed and reminded him of prey ready to strike mercilessly. Ah, Vladimir would not tolerate that betrayal on his part. If the gipsies found out...