Free A Proper Lover (Ganymede Quartet Book 2) by Darrah Glass Page A

sweet to him. Henry felt an overwhelming urge to touch him, and even lifted his hand to do so, before realizing what a bad idea it was. He couldn't be seen showing too much affection toward Martin, and because he had such a poor sense of where the line of tolerance was, he thought it best to show no affection at all.
    Louis nudged him with an elbow. “Your turn.”
    Henry stood, swaying a little, feeling the punch. He turned to Martin. “You, too. You go first.”
    “Sir?”
    “Get your fortune told,” Henry said, waving him into the tent and toward the chair.
    “But my fortune is yours , Sir,” Martin insisted, though he did as Henry asked and went to sit in the chair opposite the gypsy. Henry leaned heavily on the back of the chair to observe the process. “I don't have a fortune separate from you, Sir,” Martin said, turning to look up at him very sincerely.
    “Let her decide,” Henry suggested.
    “Good evening, boys.” The gypsy shuffled her cards with practiced skill, red-tinted nails flashing in the candlelight. Up close, she was younger than Henry expected, perhaps of his mother's generation rather than an old crone. “I am Madame Ersebet, telling your fortunes in ze Hungarian tradition.” She had a very thick, exaggerated accent, which Henry supposed might be Hungarian, or might just as easily be entirely put on. “Vat is your name, child?”
    “Martin, Ma'am.”
    “Is zis your young master, Martin?” She nodded at Henry.
    “Yes, Ma'am.”
    “I tink you are right zat your fortunes are entwined,” she said, “but your actions have consequences of zeir own.” She put the cards face down on the table in a neat stack. “Let me see your hands, Martin.” Martin obediently put his hands on the tabletop. She picked up his left hand in both of her own, felt it with a thoughtful expression, and turned it over, palm up. “You are musician,” she pronounced.
    Henry was amazed. “How did you know that?”
    She laughed. “Is no magic. He has calluses on fingers.”
    Henry blushed, embarrassed by his lack of insight.
    “You are left-handed, Martin?”
    “Yes, Ma'am.”
    “I guessed. Left-handed people are artists,” she claimed. “Are you good musician?”
    “I-I…”
    “He is,” Henry told her. “He's wonderful.”
    She smiled at Henry. To Martin, she said, “You have good relationship viz your master, I tink.”
    “Yes, Ma'am.” Martin turned his head to quickly meet Henry's eyes, his smile very fond.
    Madame Ersebet traced a line on Martin's palm with a long, pointed red nail. “I vill read your palm now, okay? Zis is heart line. Tells me how many loves you vill have. See how it curves? Zat means you are very sensitive, emotional person, but also very physical—a passionate person.” She turned his hand toward the candlelight. “I see many romances, but you don't love so easily, do you?”
    “No, Ma'am.”
    She traced another line, swooping across Martin's palm. “Now, zis, zis is your head line. Tells me about your intellectual powers. Again, is curved line. Means you are creative and romantic, but also curious. I tink you are smart boy, Martin!
    “Now, zis is interesting!” She drew her nail down Martin's palm once, then a second time. “Double lifeline! Means you have guardian angel, or maybe soul mate. Very lucky for you, I tink.”
    She let go of Martin's hand and picked up her deck of cards. They were narrower than regular playing cards, with an ornately-patterned back. She gave them a shuffle and placed them on the table in front of Martin. “Cut ze deck!” Martin did as he'd been told. “Take top card now,” she said. “Represents you.”
    Martin turned it over. “Knight of Cups, Ma'am. Is that good?”
    “Is vat is. Again, passionate person, charming and beautiful, but can be extreme, yes?” She flicked her gaze up to Henry and asked him. “Yes?”
    Henry blushed and nodded, cleared his throat and said, “Yes.”
    “Intense person, eager and helpful. Good for