Samantha James (12 page)

So. She would be happy, would she? Perhaps it was true. Perhaps not. Unbidden, a melancholy sadness seeped into her heart. But what of Emily? The thought pained her deeply. Tears pricked her eyelids. She dropped her head, but Dominic had already noticed the sudden glaze in her eyes.

“Tears?” he inquired softly.

Her smile was watery. “I’m sorry. It’s not for me. It’s just that I was thinking of—”

“Your sister.”

Her eyes darkened. She nodded. “It’s so unfair. Emily is so young! To endure the rest of her life in endless darkness…I cannot imagine it. And I could never be truly happy while Emily is
un
happy.”

“You anticipate the worst, Olivia. You should listen to Catriana. I know it sounds strange, but the Gypsies have a way of knowing things, of making the impossible happen. I cannot say why. If Catriana believes you will be happy, do not doubt it.” He paused. Very quietly he added, “My mother used to say, ‘So you believe, then so it will be.’”

Olivia didn’t dare believe, for to believe might only end in bitter disappointment. This she kept to herself, though. She had no wish to dampen Dominic’s spirits. Indeed, he seemed much more at ease than she had ever seen him.

They had just turned away when another woman stepped before them. It was Irina, Nikolos’s wife. In her hands was a lovely gold necklace. Attached was a small, round charm. The charm captured Olivia’s attention instantly. It gleamed like sunlight on water. It seemed almost alive, reflecting every imaginable color. Her breath caught in awe. She reached out to touch it. “May I?” she asked.

Irina said something in Romany and gestured, as if for her to take it.

“The necklace is for you,” Dominic told her.

Irina’s head bobbed up and down as she slipped it over Olivia’s head and around her neck.

“Oh, it’s lovely!” she exclaimed. Her eyes sought Dominic’s. “But really…I couldn’t possibly accept it…”

“It’s a gift, Olivia. You’ll offend her if you don’t accept it.”

Olivia considered but an instant. Almost reverently she touched the charm. “Tell her I’ll treasure it always.” Impulsively she reached out and gave Irina a brief hug. “Thank you, Irina. Thank you.”

As she drew back, she saw Irina wink at Dominic. Olivia didn’t understand the meaning of that wink, but suddenly it didn’t matter.

Darkness settled upon the land. A full moon began its slow ascent into the sky. The air carried the scent of some wonderful, spicy aroma. It hadn’t cooled appreciably, but remained almost as warm as the day had been. They found a place between two caravans and sat upon the grass. A young girl, smiling shyly, brought a delicious, mouthwatering stew to them. Olivia savored every mouthful, surprised at how hungry she was. While they ate, they talked.

“The girl who brought this,” Olivia said. “Why does she wear a kerchief when none of the other girls do?”

“Only the married women wear kerchiefs. Once they’re married, they are never without it in public.”

Olivia stole a glance at the girl, who couldn’t have been more than fourteen or fifteen. “She’s married?”

His chuckle was low and husky.

“But she’s so young! Why, I feel quite ancient!”

Dominic laughed again.

She set aside her rough wooden plate. “Why do so many wear red?” she asked. She’d noticed earlier that many of the women wore full red skirts or
blouses, and many of the men wore scarlet shirts as well.

Dominic was secretly pleased at her questions. She was curious, not demeaning, and that made all the difference. “Red is believed to bring good luck.” He paused. “White is for funerals.”

“I see.” To Olivia it seemed a strange custom, for to her white was a symbol of purity and innocence. Still, she reminded herself it was just as Dominic had said…Their ways were not wrong…just different.

“Look there.” Dominic pointed suddenly to the edge of the camp. Two young men were engaged in a boxing match. Boisterous shouts cheered the pair on. The taller of the two—his name was Andre as she recalled—took advantage of his slim physique. He twirled around and sidestepped several punches.

Olivia gasped and sat up straight. “Someone should stop them!”

“It’s just a game.” He shrugged. “They mean no harm to each other.”

He was right. Few blows were landed, and those that were, were not intended to be vengeful. She shook her head. “Why men find such sport entertaining is beyond me.”

“The Gypsy women say the same. They throw their hands in the air and walk away.”

She knew what he was trying to say—that they weren’t so very different after all. Olivia was uncertain how to respond, so she kept silent.

Dominic’s eyes ran over her profile. Their shoulders were touching. She seemed oblivious to the contact. Her eyes were downcast, but she tipped her head ever so slightly, so that the silken length
of her hair brushed his sleeve. He sucked in a sharp breath. He wanted to feel it, warm and soft and alive, against his bare skin. Trailing across his chest. The crease between his thigh and hip, with the velvet heat of her mouth following the path it took…

Christ! He shifted, for he was beginning to have a distinctly physical reaction to his wild imaginings. His shaft pounded with the pulse of his blood. With an effort he forced his mind far away from the swelling fullness in his loins—a feat that proved nearly impossible with her so close!

He gazed out where a hundred tiny stars had appeared in the sky. “Do you know,” he began, his voice very low, “that there are places on the Continent where the Gypsies hide in their
vardos
at night and do not venture out until morning?”

“Why not?”

“Because they are afraid.”

“Afraid?” A frown appeared between slender brows. Her eyes searched his.

“Oh, yes,” he assured her gravely. “It’s been like that for centuries, but it’s only at night when they are in danger.”

An eerie prickle ran up Olivia’s spine. All at once she had no desire to venture home in the dark. “In danger from what?” she asked.

“Men who turn into creatures of the night.”

Her tongue came out to moisten her lips. He nearly groaned. God, how would it feel in his mouth? Bravely she said, “An owl is a creature of the night. So are mice. Neither are dangerous.”

He shook his head. “Not creatures like those. Demon creatures, with teeth that are this long—” He
measured wide with his fingers. “—and rapier-sharp.”

She listened in half-fear, half-fascination. “No,” she said slowly. “That cannot be.”

“I do not jest, Olivia. They are demon creatures, half-man, half-beast.”

Her eyes were huge. She shivered, unconsciously nestling closer to him. “Truly?”

He turned slightly so that the hollow of her shoulder fit neatly beneath his arm. Stretching out his hand behind her, he touched the bare skin of her upper arm.

With a cry she nearly leaped into his lap.

He erupted into laughter. “Careful, Olivia, else I’ll think you’ve begun to grow rather fond of me.”

Olivia stared into twinkling blue eyes. “You tricked me! This was naught but a ploy to get me—”

“—into my arms?” He grinned hugely.

She pushed herself back from his chest. “You are the only beast of the night!”

Dominic experienced a fleeting regret. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so hasty. He liked the feel of her close against his side.

“You were only trying to frighten me,” she accused.

“Not so,” he denied. “Every word I spoke was true, I swear on the grave of my mother. I’ve heard tales of such creatures even here in England.”

She darted a quick glance around, at the encroaching shadows of the forest beyond the camp. She no longer looked so smug. Then all at once she smiled. Her hand came to rest on the amulet from Irina. “If that is true,” she said breezily, “then this will protect me.”

Slowly he shook his head. “No, it will not.”

Her expression fell. “It won’t?” Her tone was so plaintive he very nearly laughed.

“No.” His grin was devilish.

“It won’t bring me good luck?”

“Hardly.” A smile lurked on his lips.

She stared at him suspiciously. “What is it then?”

Again he chuckled. “I’m not certain you want to know.”

“I do.”

“You’ll be angry with me.”

“I promise, I won’t.”

“You’re quite sure?”

“I am. Now tell me. Why won’t this charm protect me?”

His smile widened slowly. “Because,” he said softly, “it’s a love charm.”

Her stunned expression was precious. “Oh,” she said weakly. “You mean to…to make me…”

“Yes. To make you fall in love. As long as you wear it, you’re in danger of falling in love. I daresay in far more danger than from any creatures on the Continent.”

Her eyes flared. “So that’s why she winked at you—why you were so amused!”

“You promised you wouldn’t be angry,” he reminded her. “And you can’t give it back. Irina would be—”

“Yes, yes, I know. She would be offended. So what the devil shall I do with it tonight if I cannot take it off?”

“I suppose you have no choice but to wear it.”

She stared at him, exasperated. It couldn’t possibly be true, could it? All of a sudden his voice
tolled through her mind.
The Gypsies have a way of knowing things, of making the impossible happen
. She was reminded of his mother’s curse. But that was coincidence. It had to be…it had to!

Yet suddenly there was an unfamiliar dryness in her throat. She stared at the place where his hair met the nape of his neck. She found herself possessed of a most curious urge to run her fingers there, just along his nape where his hair grew dark and lustrous.

A tall, slim Gypsy strode up and stopped before them. He gazed at Olivia for the longest time, then finally looked at Dominic. He said something in Romany.

Then suddenly Dominic’s gaze dwelled long and hard upon her, too. He replied in Romany, his eyes never leaving her. Olivia’s heart beat a rapid tattoo. They were talking about her. She sensed it instinctively. Dominic’s mouth carried the faintest smile as he spoke. The Gypsy laughed.

“What did he say?”

“He said my woman is beautiful.”

“But I’m not your wom—”

She broke off. A dark, forbidden thrill went through her. She
was
his woman, if only for tonight. A burning ache seared her heart. Just once, she longed to pretend she was not who she was…pretend
he
was not…

A tremor went through her. “What did you say?” she asked, her voice but a thread of sound.

His was low and husky. “I said he was right—” There was just the tiniest pause. “—that you are beautiful.”

Did he truly think so? Olivia couldn’t look at him—she just couldn’t! She wasn’t used to coy flir
tations, not like the women of the
ton
…the women he had known.

“He also said that perhaps if I’m lucky, my bed will be warm tonight.”

His voice carried a faint trace of amusement. She was almost unbearably conscious of his regard, and wished for one wild moment that she
were
a flirt—that some glib, facile comment would spring to her lips in this game of seduction.

But that wasn’t what was happening here, was it…
Was it?

Just when she thought it could get no worse, a young couple stopped almost directly in front of them. To Olivia’s shock, they were soon wrapped in each other’s arms, and the young man was availing himself of a long, deep kiss. The woman moaned softly…a sound of pleasure.

Olivia looked away. Up. Down. Anywhere but at the pair of young lovers. Beside her, Dominic laughed softly.

“You truly are an innocent, Olivia.”

At last the pair moved on. “And you, sir, are quite jaded.”

It was a moment before he replied. “Nay, I am not. If I were, I’d see the world as a dark and gloomy place where some use others.” He paused. “I simply don’t know my place in it.”

Olivia looked at him sharply. He sounded strange, so somber. Though his lips still smiled, his eyes were no longer laughing. She was stunned to realize he was serious. There was no time to question him further, for the long, pure note of a violin filled the air.

“The celebration begins,” Dominic murmured.

He was right. Flames leaped high and bright
from the fire in the center of the camp. A dozen Gypsies had already begun to dance around it. Others clapped and cheered.

“What are they celebrating?”

She thought he might say a betrothal, or some Gypsy holiday. Instead he said simply, “Life.”

Another had joined the dancers, a young woman named Eyvette with long, curling black hair. A tall, sleek beauty, her shoulders were bare and her skirts flew up to reveal sleek, brown calves and a hint of bare thigh as she swirled and clapped in time to the music. She swayed to and fro, a wild, exotic tilt to her black eyes and full red lips. She was not partnered by anyone, but was alone.

Perhaps not for long. Seductive and graceful, she came to dance directly before Dominic, a lithe, sinuous dance of erotic provocation. Bathed in the glow of the fire, slender arms raised high, she whirled, then bowed low—so low she offered an uninhibited view of bounteous charms. Her breasts were clearly visible, round and voluptuous and unfettered.

Beside her, Dominic watched with apparent appreciation, a lazy smile on his lips. Olivia was hardly inclined to do the same. A slow curl of something very akin to jealousy coiled deep in her breast.

The music ended. Eyvette rose. She spoke to Dominic in Romany. Though he still smiled, his reply was brief. Eyvette shrugged and moved on.

Olivia leaned toward Dominic. “Let me guess—perhaps your bed
will
be warm tonight.” She was secretly aghast that she dared to speak of such a thing—and to a man yet!

He merely laughed. “Eyvette is an attractive woman, is she not?”

“Quite,” she returned baldly. “I must say, however, I found the young man called Andre quite handsome indeed.” Her eyes scanned the group. Unfortunately, Andre was nowhere to be found.

But her ploy had worked. Dominic’s smile vanished. Olivia’s returned—perhaps he wasn’t feeling quite so certain of himself now. Her victory proved to be short-lived, however. He was on his feet in a heartbeat. Before she knew what he was about, he seized her hands, pulled her to her feet and out among the dancers.