A Breath of Scandal (7 page)

God; she’s magnificent
, Julian thought, eyeing her with appreciation. His gaze was riveted on her heaving breasts, until reluctantly he returned it to her furious black eyes and expressive face. He wanted to pull her down onto the bed and make tempestuous love to her.

He heaved a regretful sigh. “I’m sorry, Lara. I’m behaving badly, but I mean you and your people no disrespect. I’m distraught because you are in my bed and I can do nothing about it.”

His words appeared to have little impact on her anger as she turned and flounced out the door.

He believes me a whore
, Lara thought as she walked over to the dying fire and plopped down on a bench. Some Gypsy women were promiscuous, but she wasn’t one of them. She’d have to love a man before giving herself to him. Lara knew better than to expect Drago to take their marriage seriously, or to care about her. It was inevitable that Drago would leave, and a foregone conclusion that she would join her father in London.

Lara sat beside the fire, hugging her knees to ward off the night chill, until the wood had burned down to ash. Then she rose stiffly and returned to the wagon. The candle had burned down to a stub, but it shed enough light to reveal a sleeping Drago. Lara blew out the candle, undressed down to her shift, and eased into bed. She heard Drago sigh before he gathered her against him. Fearing she would awaken him if she removed his arm, she closed her eyes and settled down to sleep.

She awoke before Drago, arose, dressed, and quietly left the wagon. Pietro was already up and stirring the fire. Ramona had just stepped out of her wagon and was hurrying over to begin breakfast.

“You’re up early, little one,” Pietro said, greeting her with a smile. “How fares Drago?”

“He grows stronger every day,” Lara replied. She said nothing about Drago leaving once he was fully recovered, but she knew Pietro understood that he
would
leave when the time came.

Soon the camp began to stir. Lara went to the pool to bathe. The water was cool, so she washed quickly and returned to camp. She was helping Ramona when she spied Drago walking to the pool with Rondo and some of the other men.

“How soon do you plan to leave?” Rondo asked as he sidled up beside Julian.

Julian stared at him. “Are you anxious to be rid of me?”

“You are dangerous to have around.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“You do not appreciate Lara. What do you know about her? Did she tell you anything about herself?”

Julian pushed his fingers through his hair in a distracted manner. “What is there to know? Fear not, I’m no competition to you, Rondo. Once I leave, Lara is free to continue her life as it was before I entered it.”

“You’re a fool,
gadjo
. Lara is too good for either of us.”

Julian had no idea what Rondo was talking about, and obviously Rondo wasn’t going to elaborate for he strode away. Julian bathed quickly, taking care to keep his bandages dry, then he returned to camp. Ramona placed a plate and cup in his hands and he sat down to join them.

Julian watched Lara move around the campfire, remembering how she’d looked last night, gyrating to the music. She had moved with unfettered abandon, an earthy blend of feminine allure and sensuality. Was he the only man driven to lust by her flashing thighs and heaving bosom? He doubted it. Watching Lara dance had made his heart pound and the blood flow hot and thick through his veins.

Julian was jarred back to the present when Pietro said, “You’re not eating, Drago. Does the food not appeal to you?”

Julian bit into a piece of savory fried bread. “The food is fine, Pietro. I’m sorry if I appear distracted.”

Pietro rolled his eyes. “Oh, aye, I know about distractions.”

Julian concentrated on his plate. Could Pietro read his mind? He hoped not.

Julian chewed his food thoughtfully. He was finishing his tea when a cry caused him to look up in alarm. A young lad ran toward them, yelling and waving his arms excitedly. “Pietro! Men on horseback are coming.”

Voices so recently engaged in conversation fell silent as everyone turned toward Pietro for instruction. Pietro looked at Julian and frowned. “You must be an important man to bring your enemies back.”

Julian set down his plate. “You think they come for me?”

“Aye, they come for you,” Ramona answered. “We will give them nothing to cause suspicion. Lara, come and sit beside your husband.”

Lara set the tea kettle down beside the fire and hurried over to join Julian.

“Perhaps I should hide,” Julian suggested.

“Too late,” Pietro said. “Fear not. You are one of us now. I have seen to everything.”

Pietro’s words seemed to reassure the Gypsies, for they returned to their meal and conversation. But Julian remained puzzled by Pietro’s last remark. His heart pumped furiously as six armed men rode into the camp. Julian recognized their leader as the smuggler named Crockett.

Pietro stood and waited for the riders to rein in.

“Are ye the leader here?” Crockett asked, dismounting.

“I am Pietro. What do you want?”

“Has the man we were looking for turned up? Have any bodies washed ashore recently?”

“No strangers have appeared in our camp,” Pietro assured him. Then Pietro said something that startled Julian. “Strange that you should ask about a body. We did find a dead man on the beach shortly after your first visit to our camp.”

Crockett’s attention sharpened. “Dead, ye say? Where is the body?”

“We buried it, of course.”

Crockett made a slow perusal of the faces peering at him over their plates. His gaze settled on Julian. Julian held his breath, not daring to look up. Would Crockett recognize him without the beard and dressed in Gypsy garb? Obviously not, for Crockett’s lustful gaze moved on to Lara. Julian wanted to jump up and shield Lara, but exercised restraint. Drawing attention to himself would doubtlessly bring trouble to the people who sheltered him.

“The dead man. What did he look like?”

Pietro shrugged. “ ’Twas hard to tell. He’d been in the water a long time. He was tall, had dark hair, and appeared to be gunshot.”

Crockett’s beady eyes narrowed. “Show me the grave.”

Julian stifled a groan. Things were going from bad to worse, and he didn’t even have a weapon with which to defend himself and Lara.

“Follow me,” Pietro said.

Julian sent Lara a startled look. He started to rise, but Lara’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“There is no grave,” Julian hissed.

“Trust Pietro,” Lara whispered back. “He’s thought of everything.”

Pietro and Crockett disappeared over a small rise. Julian waited with bated breath, fearing for the old man’s life once Crockett learned there was no grave. He allowed himself to breathe again when he saw both men returning. Moments later, Crockett mounted without uttering another word and rode off with his men.

“What happened? There was no grave,” Julian said as Pietro returned to his place beside the campfire.

“Rest assured there was a grave,” Pietro returned. “Ramona predicted that your enemies would return and had me dig a grave and fill it with rocks. We arranged the clothing you wore when we found you over the rocks. Your enemy didn’t bother taking a close look. ’Twas what we had counted on.”

Julian felt profound gratitude for the wily Gypsy couple. They and their people could have betrayed him to his enemies and earned a reward.

“They would never have betrayed you,” Lara said, as if reading his mind. “You are my husband, they are loyal to their own.”

Perhaps for the first time Julian realized what being Lara’s husband, even a temporary one, meant. Dimly he wondered what would happen, how her people would react, when he left to resume his life in London. Would they blame her for being abandoned by her husband? Or would they merely shrug with typical Romany fatalism?

“They won’t be back,” Ramona said with confidence. “ ’Tis time we celebrated your marriage. Tomorrow we will celebrate far into the night. ’Tis just the diversion we need before moving on to Lockerbie. A feast, a day and night of rest, then on to the fair.”

Julian could feel their excitement. The Gypsies were eager to celebrate a marriage considered legal by no one but themselves.

After breakfast, Julian asked Pietro if he could help with the horses. He wanted to make himself useful, to give them something back for his life. Pietro gave his permission and Julian hurried off to the corral to begin his day.

At the end of his first full day’s work after being seriously wounded, Julian was so exhausted that he bathed and fell into bed without supper. He ached everywhere. He wasn’t a stranger to physical exercise, and he normally kept his body in tiptop shape, but outside of fencing, riding, and boxing occasionally at the club, he rarely performed the kind of work he had done this day. He employed grooms and stablemen for that chore. He fell asleep promptly, unaware when Lara entered the wagon and crawled in beside him.

Lara lay down beside Drago, glad that he was sleeping soundly so she could enjoy the solid warmth of his body without his knowledge. She had no intention of letting Drago know how much she enjoyed sleeping in his arms, feeling his hard body curl around hers as if he truly cherished her. She had too little time left to be with Drago. Once she returned home everything would change. Intuitively she knew this would be her last summer with her Gypsy family.

One day soon her father would introduce her to the
ton
and she would pretend to be the innocent maiden society demanded of her. Though she was still a virgin, living with Gypsies had made her more conscious of her body, more aware of herself as a woman. Her English counterparts would be appalled at her knowledge of the human body. Gypsies believed that what men and women did together was natural and necessary to well-being. It was her last thought before sleep claimed her.

The next morning Lara helped prepare breakfast. Drago arose shortly after she did, ate breakfast, and went off to the corral. Lara hurried after him.

“You’ve been working too hard,” Lara cautioned when she caught up with him. “You should rest for the celebration tonight.”

“Consider yourself lucky that I return to my bed exhausted at night,” Julian said in a voice that sent a jolt of awareness down her spine. “I wouldn’t be able to lie beside you each night and not touch you were it not for the physical labor I engage in.” He turned away, then spun back around to face her, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. “Is this your subtle way of saying you want me to make love to you, Lara?”

Lara blanched and huffed out an angry breath. “Far be it from me to force you to do anything you don’t wish to do.” Whirling on her heel, she marched away.

She’d wither and die before she’d beg a man to make love to her. She didn’t even know Drago’s real name. He could be a criminal, or worse.

Maybe he was a spy. He might even be married and the father of several children. Good Lord, what had she done?

Why couldn’t he tell her the truth about himself?

J
ulian didn’t look forward to the celebration planned for that night. Resisting Lara’s tempting body was becoming a problem. He devoutly hoped his virility was still suppressed, but he seriously doubted he could continue to use that as an excuse. His loins stirred restlessly and lust nearly devoured him every time he looked at Lara.

After considerable thought, Julian came to the conclusion that there was no reason he should deny himself as long as both he and Lara were willing. A husband and wife were supposed to consummate their union, even though Lara was the only partner in their marriage who took it seriously. Were Lara an innocent he wouldn’t even consider bedding her, but that sensually stimulating dance Lara had performed with Rondo belied her innocence.

The delicious aroma of roasted pig wafted to Julian on the evening breeze. The women had been working all day on the feast, the men fine-tuning their instruments. All the ingredients for the celebration were in place, but he still felt uncomfortable.

That evening Julian bathed and donned the clean clothes Lara had purchased for him on her last trip to the village. He supposed the clothing was elegant for a Gypsy, but it was a far cry from what the
ton
considered respectable for a wealthy nobleman. Still, he was content with Lara’s choice of white shirt, colorful brocade vest, green jacket and sash to match, and tight black breeches. She had even purchased a new pair of boots for him, crafted from good leather, that fit him surprisingly well.

Julian had no money with which to pay for his new clothes, but he intended to repay Lara’s generosity as soon as he returned home. He planned to send Lara and her people a generous reward for saving his life.

Julian found the camp a beehive of activity when he returned. Everyone had dressed in his or her best. The women pranced about in brightly colored skirts with bells sewn onto the hems. Large gold hoops hung from their ears, and precious gems adorned the rings on their fingers.

The men looked like strutting peacocks in their bright finery. Like the women, they wore gold earrings in their ears and heavy gold chains around their necks. Julian searched the compound for Lara and saw her standing beside their wagon. She must have sensed his gaze upon her for she lifted her eyes to him and smiled.

For all the activity around them, they might as well have been the only two people in the universe. Everything faded for Julian but the sensually stimulating woman who boldly returned his look. A current passed through him, and he shuddered. The air between them was so taut with sexual tension it seemed to vibrate.

His heated gaze slid down her body. Her full breasts were barely contained within the scooped neckline of her blouse. Tiny sleeves rested on her upper arms, baring both golden shoulders and the upper swells of her breasts. It was obvious to Julian that nothing stood between her skin and blouse, which was tucked into the waistband of a brilliant, multicolored skirt hung with bells at the hem. A thrill shot through Julian when he realized that the ruffled red petticoat, visible beneath the hem of the skirt, was probably the only undergarment she wore.