Read Karla Darcy - [Sweet Deception Regency 04] for Free Online Page B

could always use an accent, but the setting for the play was a real problem. Leslie stared glumly at the gypsy in the mirror, still reluctant to give up her plan.
    "The gazebo," she whispered.
    The idea came to her in a flash of clarity. The little wooden building stood, surrounded by lush shrubberies, on the edge of the lake far from the main house. Since spring had not officially arrived, the gazebo's normally open sides were still shuttered. The room was sparsely furnished, but best of all there was a velvet covered wicker chaise lounge that would make a perfect prop for her magic play. She had read enough of those ladies novels to imagine exactly how it would be. Standing up she closed her eyes and pictured the scene in her mind. Her body moved in duplicate to her inventive thoughts.
    The tiny summerhouse would be lit by a single candle, and, far off in the distance, the orchestra music would sound a gentle accompaniment to the actors on the stage. She would be lying on the chaise as Pax entered. Deep in the throes of her drama, Leslie sprawled across the sofa, in an awkward, yet hopefully, seductive pose.
    Pax would stand in the doorway, enthralled by the mysterious enchantress before him. His manly chest would heave with the power of his emotion. His breath would catch in his throat, and he would stagger as though sustaining a mortal blow. Then slowly he would cross the room, hurling himself on the floor at her feet.
    "My beloved," Pax would say, voice hoarse with undying love. "I have searched the seven seas for a woman like you. I pledge my heart to you for all eternity."
    "Non! Non! Oh ze sorrow of eet all." Leslie would raise her arm, covering her eyes with the back of her hand. "Ah mon amor, if only ve had known each other some other time, some other place."
    "But, treasure of my life, I have you here now!" Pax would clasp his hands in supplication.
    Then like a queen rising from her throne, Leslie would stand, staring down into Pax's agonized face. In the throbbing quiet of the little room, she would reach out her hand to lightly touch his wind-blown hair. Her voice would be pitying but firm. "Zis meeting will have to suffice for a lifetime of pleasure," she improvised.
    His hand shaking with suppressed emotion, Pax would grasp the hem of her skirt and touch it reverently to his forehead, his lips and his heart. Then before his dazzled eyes, Leslie would run through the door, escaping into the night. Pax would stumble to his feet, swearing he would never rest until he had claimed the gypsy for his bride.
    Leslie hugged herself with delight, thoroughly satisfied with the scenario she had created. "That ought to fix Cecily for good and all."
    Now all she had to do was contrive to make it all work. Her accent wasn't quite right. It was a hodge-podge of French and German. But if she spoke only a few words, she ought to get along quite nicely. For the rest, it would take some organization, but she had three days in which to arrange everything.
    Slowly she reviewed the plan. The costume was perfect. All she needed was a mask. Rummaging once more in the trunk, Leslie found a black satin sash which could be fashioned with holes and serve to cover the majority of her face. She posed with the scarf wound around her head, then leaned forward glowering at her hair. Gypsies always had black hair, she thought in disgust as she stared accusingly at her chestnut curls. Leslie pulled at her queue, then grinned as she thought back to her early years in India. Once Manji had taken her to a native bazaar and to make her less noticeable, he had dyed her hair with a mixture of water and boot blacking. It wasn't permanent and she could wash it out after her masquerade.
    Somehow she had to get Pax to the gazebo. Leslie finally settled on a vague sort of note asking him to meet her at midnight. If the note was intriguing enough, she was sure that Pax would come.
    There remained her main obstacle to success. Jacko.
    If the old man got wind