Claiming the Forbidden Bride (14 page)

Angel's reaction was the same as it had been with her uncle. She threw her arms around Rhys's neck, allowing him to pick her up when he rose.

As he walked back to Nadya, carrying the little girl, for the first time she realized that anyone seeing them together might take them for father and daughter. No matter how much she loved Angel, in appearance the child would always belong more to Rhys's world than that of the Rom. It was even possible that, just as Stephano had, she would one day return to that world.

‘Do you ride?' Rhys asked as he collected the bay's reins.

‘Of course.'

She did, but not like the ladies of his acquaintance. She considered the practice of sitting on the back of a horse as if one were in a drawing room chair absurd. If Rhys found her style of riding peculiar, that would simply be another of many things he'd thought strange about the way she lived.

He led the bay over and then, still holding the reins, put Angel down in order to hand Nadya up. Nadya gathered her skirts and placed her foot in his cupped hands. When he lifted her, she swung her other leg over the gelding's back and settled into the saddle astride.

The bay, disconcerted by her unfamiliar weight or the brush of her skirts, sidestepped. Nadya ran a soothing hand down his neck, bending forward to whisper into his ear the same Romany endearments with which her brother complimented the black.

When she had reassured the horse, she glanced down to read the surprise in Rhys's face. He had the presence of mind to close his mouth—and the wisdom to keep it closed.

‘I can take her now.' She managed to keep any hint of self-satisfaction from her tone.

Rhys obediently handed Angel up to her. The little girl, who delighted in riding with Stephano in exactly this way, settled into the saddle in front of her mother. As soon as she had been secured by Nadya's arm around her waist, Rhys began to lead the horse toward the woods.

‘I thought you asked if I could ride.'

He looked up at her questioningly. ‘Is something wrong?'

‘I haven't been led since I was put on my first pony.'

‘My apologies.' Those were accompanied by a slight bow. ‘Your reins, ma'am.'

Rhys's smile had been teasing, but there was, she would have sworn, admiration in his eyes as well. With her left arm still around Angel's waist, she took the reins in her
right and touched her heels lightly to the bay. He began to move, ambling in the direction of the camp.

After a few moments, Nadya looked over her shoulder. Rhys was walking behind them, his eyes focused on the ground. She pulled the bay up, holding him until Rhys came up beside them.

‘What's wrong now?'

She would be playing with fire. And she knew it.

She also knew that she had told him goodbye once, had sent him on his way because it was the right thing to do. Stephano had it made very clear to her, if she'd had any doubts, why that had been the right thing.

Now Rhys was back. Because, he said, he was concerned for her safety. She knew the kind of man he was, so she believed that to be his reason. But because she had read what was in his eyes the day she'd been foolish enough to shave him, she also believed he had found it as difficult to say goodbye as she had.

‘It will be dark soon. We'll reach camp much quicker if you ride, too.'

‘Should I remind you there's only one horse?' Although his expression was serious, his eyes were smiling.

Nadya decided she preferred them that way. ‘On the rump, I mean. The Rom do it all the time. Of course, something like that may be beneath your dignity.'

‘Whatever dignity I might once have had was lost on the battlefields of Iberia. The last time I rode on the rump of someone else's horse, my own had been shot from under me.'

Perhaps it was a trick of the fading light, but his eyes, which seconds before had been amused, suddenly seemed shadowed, almost distant. Whatever she thought she'd seen there cleared as he smiled up at her.

‘Are you certain
your
dignity won't suffer? I would hate
to do anything that might harm the
drabarni's
well-deserved reputation.'

‘The Rom are a very practical people, Major Morgan. They would think it strange if we didn't share the animal.'

‘Are you sure?' he asked softly, his eyes serious again.

‘I'm sure the temperature will drop when the sun sets. And I'm not sure my grandmother won't send out a search party if we aren't home before that.'

She slipped her foot out of the stirrup and tightened her grip around her daughter's waist. Then she held her breath until he moved.

With one fluid motion he swung up behind her. She could feel the heat from his body even before he put his arms around her to take control of the reins.

‘Put your foot back in the stirrup,' he ordered.

‘Afraid I'll fall off?' she teased as she obeyed.

‘If you do, we all do.'

Without waiting for a response, he touched his heels to the bay's side, and the horse broke into a trot.

She was too aware of the movement. Aware, too, of the man behind her, his arms enclosing her as he deftly guided the bay into the trees.

The ride would last only minutes, despite the slower pace they would be forced to maintain once they reached the densest part of the forest. But with something approaching contentment, she acknowledged that at least she would forever have the memory of those.

N
ight fell before they reached Magda's caravan. Most of the Rom had already taken shelter against the growing chill in the bender tents scattered around the clearing, so there were few to witness their arrival.

With her half-brother's very public dismissal of the Englishman from camp, that was probably a blessing. Of course, there was no way to prevent her grandmother from sending word to Stephano that Rhys had returned.

Still, Nadya admitted, the old woman had been relatively uncritical of her care of the Englishman and about the length of time he'd remained with them. Maybe her unusual reticence would continue.

If it didn't, and Magda did inform Stephano, Nadya would deal with her half-brother's anger when she was forced to. Tonight…

Tonight she would enjoy having Rhys here. Just as she had relished the feel of his body against hers during the ride to camp.

‘Do you want me to go in with you?'

Rhys had leaned forward to ask his question as he
reined in the bay before her grandmother's
vardo
. His mouth was so close she could feel the warmth of his breath against her cheek.

She resisted the urge to turn her head. There had been quite enough temptation.

‘To talk to Magda?' As she shook her head, a strand of hair that had escaped her kerchief caught in the late-day stubble on his cheek. She freed it with her fingers. ‘Besides, she may not be here. She much prefers sleeping on the ground.'

‘To sleeping inside the caravan?'

‘After my father purchased his, Magda felt it elevated his status above that of her and her family. She took it as a slight to the position of the Beshaleys. When Stephano took over the leadership of our
kumpania
, at her insistence he commissioned a wagon to be made for her, larger and more ornate than my father's.

‘While Magda loved the thought of owning a caravan, she found it hard to forego the old ways. With tonight's cold, however, she may be inside. If so, as soon as I've given Angel something to eat and put her to bed, I'll ask. Whether she'll tell me anything or not…' Nadya shrugged.

‘Even if it might keep you safe?'

‘Admitting she fears someone gives them power over her.'

After dismounting, he held up his arms for Angel. ‘You know that's ridiculous.'

‘Perhaps. But it's the way she thinks. To Magda, being Rom means being strong, totally self-sufficient, and bound by nothing except the laws of the
kumpania
. Fear hampers one's freedom, so she'll never admit to being afraid.'

‘She sounds remarkably like my grandmother,' Rhys said, setting Angel down on the ground beside him.

The little girl immediately clambered up the steps of
Magda's caravan. He then turned, holding up his hands for Nadya.

Although she was perfectly capable of dismounting on her own, temptation overruled rational response. Even knowing the strain lifting her down would place on his damaged shoulder wasn't a strong enough deterrent to keep her from wanting to be in his arms. Even if only for a few seconds.

She swung her leg over the bay's back and then leaned down to place her palms on Rhys's shoulders. His hands closed around her waist, accepting her weight as she slid off the horse.

Although he had ridden behind her from the meadow, their bodies in constant contact, that was very different from the situation in which she found herself now. So close, her breasts brushed against his chest as he set her on the ground.

Even then Rhys didn't release her. He stood, looking into her eyes, the smooth planes and strong angles of his face illuminated by the campfires.

When he began to bend toward her, there was no thought of turning away. She wanted his kiss. Had wanted it for weeks. No matter the repercussions, she intended to savour this moment.

Her lips opened under the first tentative touch of his, and he responded to her reaction. His hands left her waist to gather her into his arms.

If the brush of her nipples against his chest had been sensuous, the feel of her breasts crushed against its hard wall of muscle was overwhelming. The dams of reason and restraint she had so painstakingly built against falling in love with this man were destroyed by sensations too long denied.

His tongue probed hers, caressing and then retreating.
She strained upward, desperate to increase the contact between them. On tiptoe, she sought his mouth again.

Assured that his embrace was welcome, once more Rhys responded. His hands cupped under her hips, lifting so that despite the barrier of their clothing, she could feel his arousal. Her arms circled his neck, as her yearning body sought to become one with his.

Any thought about the propriety of what they were doing fled before the flood of heat that invaded her body. She had wanted this man from almost the first moment she'd seen him. Now she knew that he had wanted her, too.

Rhys deepened the kiss, his mouth demanding, and she held nothing back. It was too late for pretence or caution. They had at long last acknowledged a need that, unspoken, had simmered between them until it could no longer be denied.

Convention decreed they should not be together, but neither had led a conventional life. Why should they be bound by something they had both so long ignored?

‘I now see what has kept you from your dinner,
chavi
.'

Magda's comment dashed their passion as if the old woman had thrown cold water on them. Rhys released her so suddenly Nadya was forced to grasp at his arm to maintain her balance. He stepped back, looking up at the caravan.

Nadya turned to find the old woman standing on its steps, her hand on Angel's shoulder. The child didn't seem bothered to find her mother in Rhys's embrace, but as Nadya tried to formulate some explanation, her grandmother took the initiative.

‘Go inside,' she said, directing the little girl with her hand. ‘Your mother will be in soon.'

When Angel had disappeared into the
vardo
, Magda looked back at her again. ‘Do you want the whole camp as well as your daughter to witness your disgrace?'

‘I feel no disgrace,
Mami
.'

‘Nor did your mother. And see what good came to her from being so headstrong.'

‘I'm not my mother.'

‘It seems that in this you are too much like her.'

‘Surely I may kiss whoever I please.'

‘Of course. But only the foolish believe there are no consequences to doing what they please.'

‘The fault is mine—' Rhys attempted to interject.

‘Perhaps in the world of the
gadje
only men may choose whom they kiss,' Magda said. ‘In our world that is a mutual decision.'

‘It
was
mutual.' Nadya's response was almost defiant. Her grandmother was treating her like a girl caught kissing some boy already promised to another.

Still, the bonds of respect were too deep between them for her to reject Magda's correction entirely. Especially in front of an outsider.

And that was the crux of the matter, of course. Her grandmother, with her many romantic liaisons, would have been the last person alive to deny Nadya's right to choose a mate. Indeed, she had encouraged her to find a man within the tribe, someone worthy to marry a woman of her breeding and position.

Magda would have been thrilled to find her kissing Simon or Philippe. But a
gaujo
? Nothing would engender more disdain from the old woman.

‘Even if our feelings were mutual,' Rhys said, ‘as a guest in your camp, I had no right to pursue them.'

‘I gave you that right.' Nadya turned, almost as angry with his defence of her actions as with her grandmother's condemnation of them. ‘I'm not a child to be schooled in my behaviour.'

‘And will you give
your
child to his English wife,
chavi
, as your mother did? To be discarded as worthless when she has replaced it with children of her own?'

Stephano's rage and bitterness sprang from that betrayal. Her grandmother was warning her to expect no less at the hands of her
gaujo
lover.

Nor could she argue against that counsel. Nadya had never believed Rhys would marry her. How could he? If he took her for his wife, he would become a pariah among his own people. She would never ask that of him.

‘It was a kiss,
Mami
,' she said softly, her former defiance defeated by that reality. ‘Nothing more, I promise you.'

‘I may be an old woman, but I know that kisses lead to other things. Especially kisses like that.' There was a hint of amusement in her grandmother's voice. Or perhaps admiration.

When Magda continued, however, whatever Nadya thought she'd heard there had been replaced by sternness. ‘Stephano has said that he doesn't want the Englishman here. Since your reasons for defying your brother no longer exist, why have you brought him back?'

Apparently Magda had tired of playing duenna, a role she was little suited for. But the change in her approach gave Nadya the opportunity to ask her grandmother what she had promised Rhys she would.

Although it seemed far-fetched that anyone might mistake the old woman's reputation for spells and charms and fortunes for her own prowess with medicinal herbs, Nadya could think of no reason anyone would wish harm her. The kinds of dealings Magda had with the
gadje
were far more likely to create enmity.

‘Rhys came back to warn me.'

‘Is that what I have just witnessed? A strange
gadje
sort of warning then, I think.'

Ignoring Magda's gibe, Nadya doggedly ploughed on. She would ask what she had promised Rhys she would ask, and then he could leave. ‘Rhys has learned that the men who attacked the camp that night were paid to do so.'

Magda cocked her head as if considering the idea. ‘Paid by whom?'

‘Someone their leader described as a gentleman,' Rhys offered.

‘A narrow field then,' Magda said, ‘if he spoke about the
gadje
.'

‘I took it to mean someone of a certain social class.'

‘A nobleman you mean.' This time the old woman's voice was openly amused.

‘Someone of wealth or standing,' Rhys amended.

‘Such as yourself.'

‘I can claim neither of those, I'm afraid.'

‘Why be “afraid” of who you are? Are you ashamed of it?'

‘In my world, someone who allows others to believe him to be of a higher status than he really is would be considered not only dishonest, but dishonourable.'

‘Then perhaps the “gentleman” you seek is nothing of the kind. Since you know he paid others to carry out his mischief, you already know he is dishonourable.'

‘What does it matter?' Nadya interrupted.

Magda delighted in this kind of circular reasoning, but it was getting them nowhere. Now that Nadya had been forcibly reminded of the obstacles between whatever fulfilment of her relationship with Rhys she'd been imagining only minutes ago, all she wanted was for him to satisfy himself that her grandmother wasn't the answer to the riddle he sought to solve.

‘Rhys believes the man who paid for the attack had a grudge against someone in camp. You're the one who most often comes in contact with the
gadje
. Have any of them reason to be angry with something you've sold them?'

‘Sold them? Do you think me a peddler,
chavi
, whose wares are defective?'

‘A charm that didn't work as promised? A foretelling that went awry? You know what I'm asking. Don't pretend you don't.'

‘If you won't pretend that the men who came here were looking for me.'

It took a moment for Nadya to realize the implications of what her grandmother had said. ‘You know.'

‘That they were hunting for you? I am a fortune-teller,
chavi
.' The old woman was again clearly amused.

‘But that isn't how you knew.'

‘Andrash told me they were seeking our
drabarni
. He asked me for a charm to protect you. He was even willing to pay for it. I guess he didn't know you already had one.'

In the firelight, Nadya could see the eyes of the old woman move from her face to Rhys. She couldn't tell, however, whether their expression mocked him.

‘Did you make the charm he asked for?' Rhys asked.

‘Why should someone pay me for a charm to protect my granddaughter? She is always under my protection.'

‘And under mine,' Rhys vowed softly.

Nadya waited for Magda's retort. The old woman's wits were as sharp as her tongue. This time she employed neither.

‘Your enemies are not ours,
gaujo
. Neither are your friends. Be warned, though: Some of them are not yours either. If you seek to protect Nadya, you are asking questions in the wrong place.'

‘Are you telling his fortune,
Mami
?' Nadya interrupted scornfully. ‘Should he cross your palm with silver?'

‘
You
should see to your daughter. She's tired and cold and hungry, and my stew pot is empty. If there is silver to be expended, perhaps it should be used for that.'

‘I'll find something for her to eat,' Rhys volunteered.

Surprised by his offer, they watched as he led the bay in the direction of the smith's tent. When he was out of earshot, Nadya looked up at her grandmother again.

‘Am I never to have anything?'

‘Do you want your fortune told after all,
chavi
? I thought you didn't believe in such foolishness.'

‘Do you know it?'

‘Since the hour of your birth.'

‘Then perhaps one day when I have silver enough for something besides stew, I'll let you tell it to me.'

‘See to your daughter. I'll wait out here for your
gaujo
.'