A Dangerous Love (31 page)

“Was anyone hurt?”

“No. No one was hurt.”

It felt as if they had gone back in time to the days of their first meeting. He was acting like a stranger. She plucked his sleeve. “I have your kitchen staff working on a meal for all the men. You must be exhausted and hungry.”

His cold gray eyes met hers.

“I know you are angry.” She bit her lip. “This was an accident, wasn't it?”

He trembled. “Djordi and two others saw Tollman in the woods before the fire started, with another man.”

She inhaled. “Tollman is in jail.”

He gave her a look. “He was released this morning on bond.”

“Promise me you won't go after him.”

His smile was mirthless. “I have never made any promises to you, have I?”

She did not like the sound of that. “You cannot take the law into your own hands.”

“Why not? Because I have responsibilities of leadership, like your father? Because I should set an example for the community, like de Warenne?”

“Yes!” she cried, afraid. “And because you are better than they are!”

He made a disparaging sound. “I have never understood what you have seen in me, other than my rather pleasing features and body.”

She recoiled.

“It is over, Ariella.”

She felt the world still.
“What?”

“It is
over,
” he cried.

Shock began. “We are over? Just like that? Because of a bastard like Tollman?”

“We are over because you are a
gadji
princess and I am Rom,” he roared.

She backed away from him.

But he seized her wrist and towered over her, not allowing her to retreat. “What? No pretty pleas? Afraid of the savage half blood?”

She felt the tears trickle. “I hate it when you are this way.”

“Good, because I hate everyone, every
gadjo,
every damned one.” He released her.

She wiped the tears. “You know you don't hate everyone. You know you don't hate every
gadjo.
You know you don't hate
me.
”

He shook his head furiously. “Right now I do.”

She cried out.

“I am setting myself free,” he said harshly. “Here and now, I am
free.
”

“Emilian!”

He strode away.

S
HE STARED
at the housemaid who was removing her clothing from the closet. Her bags were on the bed, being filled with her smaller items and possessions; her gowns would be transported on hangers, carefully wrapped. She was returning to London. It was over.

Ariella felt her heart lurch with pain. Two weeks had passed. At first, she had told herself that he would not go through with his departure and then, when it had become clear that the Roma were gone, that he would realize his mistake and return. She had prayed, paced, stared out the window and hoped. But with every passing hour and every passing day, her hope had dwindled. Finally, there was none left.

He wasn't coming back.

She was staring out the window, past the grounds where the Roma had first camped, toward the north, where they were headed. How many times had he told her that he could not return her feelings—that he
would
not? She hugged herself. She had fallen deeply in love with a dark, tormented, very complicated man. The question now was how to forget he ever existed.

That was going to be impossible.

The truth was, her stubborn heart didn't want to ever forget; her stubborn heart was certain this wasn't over and it never would be. Her heart intended to love him from afar and cherish every memory. Her heart meant to wait for him to come back to her, even if it took years.

However, she must not allow her heart to rule her mind or her life. She hadn't been able to sleep or eat. She was truly exhausted and becoming ill. That morning, she had been light-headed and nauseous, a cause for more concern. Ariella hoped it was the flu. For her own sanity, her own health and happiness, she must leave Rose Hill and try to recover her old life. The alternative was to wait for him to come back, to wallow in despair and grief and endanger her health, when it might be years before he returned. Even then, he would not necessarily be returning for her; even then, he might be as set against their future as ever.

Her door was open. She turned when she realized she had company. Her stepmother smiled briefly at her, her green eyes questioning, and Dianna was tearful. “I heard you are leaving this afternoon,” Amanda said quietly.

Ariella knew that the entire household had realized she was in love with Emilian and now suffered a broken heart over his departure. Hiding her grief had been impossible. “I am returning to London,” she said, not bothering to even attempt a smile. “I can't stay here, like this.”

Amanda hugged her, which only made Ariella wish that she could be entirely honest. It also made tears imminent. “I am worried about you going on to town alone. It is so hot in the summer!” Amanda said. “Why don't you stay with us at Rose Hill? The ball is next week and we are leaving two days later. You can come home to Windsong with us afterward,” she said, referring to their home in the southwest of Ireland.

She would do nothing at Windsong except wander the grounds, thinking of Emilian, the way she had done at Rose Hill. “I am going to London, where my friends are. There, I can immerse myself in my studies, in public debates, and spend days in the library and museum. I will be happy.” Even as she spoke, her words rang hollow.

I am setting myself free.

At first, she had thought he wished to be free of her. She had quickly realized he wished to be free of the torment of living in a world where he was scorned every single day behind his back and where he was powerless to protect the Roma from hatred, bigotry and violence.

She would never be free. Even running away to London wouldn't change the past, erase her memories or vanquish the love in her heart.

“I am so worried about you,” Amanda said. “But there is one bit of good news.”

Ariella doubted that.

“Tollman has confessed to starting the fire and he has been arrested. This time, there is no gray area. He broke the law and he will be going to trial.”

“What happened?”

“Alexi,” Amanda said, smiling. “Apparently he induced Tollman to confess.”

“Good.”

“Please think about what it means to leave the family right now,” Amanda said. Then she squeezed her hand and left.

Ariella glanced at her sister. Dianna cried, “I hate him for what he did to you! I hate him for stealing your heart and so callously abandoning it. I hate seeing you like this. Oh, Ariella, he is not worth it. There will be someone else.”

Ariella grimaced. “The one thing I am sure of is that there will never be anyone else. It doesn't matter,” she lied. “Until I met Emilian, I had no interest in men. Now I am returning to my old life, where I will resume my intellectual pursuits. I am not going to forget Emilian, but I hope that, in time, my memories won't be so painful.”

Dianna hugged her, hard. “I know it sounds trite now, when you are so hurt, but time does heal all wounds. I love you—we all love you. Please, think about coming to Windsong this summer.”

Ariella surrendered. “I will think about it, but I feel I must go to London now.”

Dianna smiled sadly and left. Ariella was relieved, as it was so hard to say no to her little sister and she did not want to stay on the subject. But then Margery stepped into the room, her expression stern. Ariella immediately knew that more pressure would be forthcoming.

“You are so pale!” Margery exclaimed. She held a tray in her hands with covered plates. “I know you haven't had breakfast. I have brought you eggs and sausages. Can you sit down and eat?”

She wasn't hungry but she knew she must eat. She sat down. “You remind me more and more of Aunt Lizzie every single day.”

Margery smiled briefly and set the tray down. “Well, as my mother is renowned as being one of the kindest and most generous of ladies, I hope I can be half the lady that she is.” Her smile vanished. “I wish I could comfort you.”

Ariella took a dutiful sip of juice. “No one can comfort me. But perhaps, in time, I will find a way to navigate through my memories without so much pain. Being in town should help.”

Margery sat across from her. “We are going to Adare for the summer. Please, Ariella, please come with us.”

Adare was the seat of the earldom, located not far from Windsong, the river Shannon running through it. She shook her head. “I am going to London. I know you think I will be alone, but I will immerse myself in so many studies and pursuits that I won't be lonely at all.”

Margery said swiftly, “I have a wonderful idea! Why don't we travel? We can tour Greece and Italy—you know how lovely those places are in the summer!” And from the way she spoke, Ariella knew this was a plan she had conceived previously.

Ariella stabbed her eggs with a fork. And instantly, she felt sick.

When she didn't answer, Margery said, “If you don't want to travel, then I am coming to London with you, and that is that.”

Ariella fought the nausea, gave in, and ran to a chamber pot and heaved. Margery rushed to kneel beside her. The heaves were awful, as they had been for the past two days. Ariella clung to the pot, thinking about the fact that she wasn't sick except when the nausea began and she had missed her last monthly time. Which meant she wasn't ill, not exactly…

Finally she sat on her heels and looked at her cousin, who stared back, eyes wide with shock.

Ariella whispered, “Margery, what if I am carrying his child?”

 

S
HE WAS DANCING FOR HIM
.

It was late and the stars were out. Many fires burned, and the smell of roasting chicken pervaded the camp. Most of the children were abed and Nicu was playing his violin, another man his guitar. The music was deep and mournful; no one had forgotten the fire or the whipping. He hadn't forgotten.

Stevan had prevented him from seeking out Tollman and making him pay, begging him to forgo more violence. As they were ready to depart, he had agreed, but with a vast reluctance.

Now he watched her, vaguely appreciative of her beauty and grace, but his observations felt clinical. The way she moved her hips told him that she would be a passionate, fierce and pleasing lover. As she whirled, she lifted her skirts daringly high on her thighs. He didn't smile. He didn't really care.

He sat apart from the others. Once, he would have enjoyed her performance and sharing his passion with her. But he had no real interest in her now. Ariella's image burst into his mind. His heart seemed to ache and his loins finally stirred. He hated the damned feelings.

He was determined to put the past behind him. But during the long, idle days on the road, her image slowly invaded his thoughts, as did memories of all the moments they had shared. To get his errant mind onto another subject, he would think of Woodland and wonder if the estate manager, Richards, was getting on. The state of the estate continued to worry him. His duty to it seemed an inescapable part of him now, as ingrained as his handprint. And inevitably he would wonder if Ariella was getting on. He hated himself, because he had betrayed her trust yet again.

He knew her too well now. She was hurt because he had left, but damn it, he had never promised her anything except a night of pleasure.

If he ever saw her again, would her eyes still shine with trust and love?

Jaelle suddenly sat down beside him, appearing somber. He smiled at her, but it felt forced. Jaelle nodded at the dancer. “She wants you. They all do, all the women who do not have husbands, and even some who do.”

His loins had begun to fill, but not because of the dancer. He needed release. It had been weeks since the Simmonses' ball. When did he ever go weeks without a lover? Why hadn't he made love to Ariella before he left? Ah, yes, he had suddenly sprouted a conscience.

He hadn't been in the mood to make love to anyone since leaving Derbyshire. It was insane.

“You aren't happy here.”

He looked at his sister. He was about to deny it, but that wasn't fair. He put his arm around her. “I have lived with the
gadjos
for eighteen years. It isn't simple for a man to walk away from one life and start another, all in a single day.” In fact, it was damned difficult and maybe impossible.

“You are more
gadjo
than Rom.”

Her words felt like the truth and that disturbed him, because if she was right, what did that mean? But then he thought of Raiza, who had died in Stevan's arms, not his own. “I am a half blood,” he said firmly.

“So what? So am I. But my father didn't want me—he doesn't even know me—and I am Romni. Your father wanted you. You are fortunate, Emilian, and you are
gadjo
because of it. Why are you here?”

“You know why I am here. It is because of our mother. I owe her this, Jaelle.”

Jaelle seemed bewildered. “She is dead, Emilian, and your being here won't bring her back to life.”

He stared past her into the firelight. He believed he owed Raiza this attempt to reclaim his Roma heritage. But Jaelle's words felt like the truth.

The dancer had stopped and was sipping wine, glancing at Emilian through her dark lashes. Jaelle stood. “Will you take her?”

He hesitated. He needed a woman; of that there was no doubt. But she wasn't the woman he wanted.

“I thought so. Go back to your woman, Emilian. She is good and beautiful and if you wait too long, another man will take her.”

His eyes widened.

She shrugged and sauntered off.

He wanted another man to take her, he thought. He wanted her to forget him. Or did he? His heart accelerated wildly. The truth was that he
hated
the idea. Even more importantly, he
missed
her.

Missing her had implications he must not consider. Missing her was dangerous.

But he didn't want the beautiful Romni woman who was so eager to warm his bed. He wanted Ariella, because they had never finished what they had begun. Because he hadn't shown her his gratitude. He had only hurt her with his anger, and she didn't have her English prince yet.

He had to go back, just for a night. Nothing had changed. Even if Jaelle was right, even if the English part of him was stronger than the Rom, he had made a promise to Raiza and to himself. He was going to her grave. He would find his Roma heritage, and nothing could stop him. But the caravan moved slowly and he had his prized stallion with him.

He stood, a terrible excitement filling him.

In four or five days, he could be at Rose Hill.

 

I
T WAS HALF PAST TEN
in the evening. Supper had long since ended. Ariella sat in bed, holding her still-flat belly, thinking about the child she was probably carrying. The shock was wearing off. She had started becoming sick in the mornings a few days ago, and her breasts seemed to be swelling, too. If she had conceived the first night they had spent together, that made her almost six weeks along.

A pregnancy seemed very likely and she was afraid. Not once in her life had she ever dreamed she would have a child out of wedlock. She couldn't even begin to imagine what she would do or how she would manage. Her family would be in an uproar. And then there was Emilian. He had to be told, didn't he?