The Untamable Rogue (12 page)

I
smoothed down
my hair one last time and straightened my skirts before stepping out into the clearing where the Sinti had their camp. Hardly anyone seemed to notice me and if anyone was reacting to my appearance, they did not show it. My cheeks were nevertheless still reddened with shame and I tried hard to hold my head high. I thought I could still feel Ivo’s mouth upon mine. My lips were tingling and I automatically licked them. Were my lips swollen? I was deeply unsettled by what had happened – not so much by Ivo’s violent attack, as by my own emotions and reactions. I no longer had any control over them. It was like a whirlpool that was forcefully pulling me in and each time it was getting harder to fight against it.

As I was walking around a waggon I bumped into Ivo. As if paralysed I stood still and stared at him. My lower lip was trembling slightly – I was filled with apprehension. His dark gaze arrested me and I felt dizzy. We only looked at one another for a moment, not uttering a word, then Ivo’s eyes looked provocatively over my dishevelled exterior and a mocking grin came over his face. I would have loved to have wiped this grin from his face. Angry, I gasped for air, pulled myself together and tried to walk passed him but he blocked my way. Only by stopping abruptly could I avoid bumping into him again.

“Ah, the little forest nymph. Well you took a long time to find your way back to the camp,” he drawled. 

I remained silent, stung. This rogue! He did not even have a bad conscience. – This man had no conscience whatsoever! – I corrected myself.

“Have you lost your tongue?” he sneered.

I took up my skirts and tried again to get passed him, but he again took a step to the side and blocked my way. I instinctively stepped back and suddenly found myself with my back against the wall of the waggon. Ivo grinned smugly and casually placed his hand next to me – with the other hand he took a loose strand of my hair and wound it around his finger.

“Really extraordinary,” he murmured and let the silky strand, glistening like gold in the sun, slip from his fingers.

“Let me go!” I said somewhat breathlessly.

Ivo was definitely too close. I could feel his heat and smell his pungent, masculine scent. My legs were threatening to give way beneath me – I felt so shaky, even feverish. That must be because of the sun.

“Is that really what you want?” he murmured.

His mouth got closer to mine and I felt as if my whole body was reaching out to him although I was not moving an inch. The butterflies in my belly were dancing. Our lips met, melted together and, involuntarily I leant against Ivo’s body, to keep myself upright. A sweet weakness overcame me and I shuddered. He took hold of me by the hips and pressed me firmly against his loins. I could feel his hardness and an aching pain spread within my sex. I wanted him to free me at last from this torturous yearning, even if I did not yet know how. When he suddenly let go of me I swayed a little and leant against the waggon, breathing heavily. Why did he have such an effect upon me? I was completely incapable of defending myself against it. When he pulled me to himself again I uttered a suppressed cry. This time he kissed me in a gentle, provocative way. His tongue pushed between my lips and I submitted, groaning. I forgot everything around me: who and where I was; who the man was who was kissing me so wonderfully. I forgot everything that anyone had ever taught me about decency, morals and class differences. Nothing mattered any more apart from the sweet sensations, the desire for something that I could not name exactly. I found myself in an unknown terrain and it was a dangerous one.

Suddenly Ivo pulled himself away from me, swore quietly and disappeared between the waggons. Confused and strangely empty, I was once again left alone.

S
ergio had watched
the scene from a distance and he was boiling with rage. It was as he had thought: his depraved brother was pestering Liz and forcing himself upon her. That she, however, was succumbing so quickly to this pressure, hurt him. She was after all from a good background and he had expected her to have more restraint. That was precisely what had made her so attractive to him. He did not like the permissiveness of the Sinti women and Liz’s innocence and purity had seemed to him to be a gift from heaven. But now it turned out that she reacted in exactly the same way as other women when it came to his brother. He did not understand women – he could not comprehend why, one after another, they all fell for a man, who treated them with contempt. He had also never understood his brother – why he treated women like that and why he did not wish for a wife and children.

Sergio was preparing himself for a confrontation because his brother was about to pass right by him. When Ivo saw him he just nodded briefly and went to carry on, but Sergio held him back by his arm.

“Hey!”

“What’s up, then?” asked Ivo calmly and stood still. He grinned mockingly at his younger brother.

Sergio summoned all his strength and hit him. He caught Ivo hard on the chin. Immediately he hit out again to increase the effect.

Ivo shook himself in disbelief, spat out some blood and looked at his little brother, puzzled.

“Have you lost your mind? What’s this about?”

“You swine!” shouted Sergio, outraged. “You have no right …”

A smug grin appeared on Ivo’s face.

“Oh right, I get it! So you’re also keen on the little one. You should have told me earlier, then maybe I’d have shared her with you – amongst brothers …”

Ivo skilfully avoided the thump that followed this provocation and he hit back. In no time a fight was happening and people began to surround the opponents. Liz, too, who noticed the tumult, came over and stared with horror at the fighters. She flinched as Ivo received a blow on the mouth and doubled up. But Ivo pulled himself together again quickly and attacked his brother with a mean grin on his face.

“I must say … you’ve missed something … dear brother …” he said between two blows.

“Shut your damned mouth!” Sergio’s voice was cracking with fury.

Ivo laughed.

“She was …”

Sergio saw red. Like a wild bull he threw himself at his brother, pushing him to the ground. For a while they wrestled for the best position, then Ivo lay underneath and Sergio put his hands around Ivo’s neck.

“You have … gone too far!” he shouted, furious. “I’m going to kill you!”

The crowd held its breath with tension and Liz, too, stood there as if paralysed, tears collecting in her eyes. She had never before been the reason for an argument. She did not even know whose side she should take. One man was a dear friend and the other made her blood heat and her heart race.

Ivo took a handful of sand and tossed it into his brother’s face. The latter shouted and loosened his stranglehold. Ivo immediately used the advantage and landed a few well-aimed blows that threw Sergio to the side. Ivo picked himself up and stared down at his brother who was lying on the ground.

“You still have a lot to learn, little one,” he said scornfully and wiped the blood from his split lip. He looked into the crowd and saw Liz. His look positively burnt into her, then he smiled, gave a slight bow and turned away. Liz watched him, stunned. She was still standing there, fixed to the spot, as people went to help Sergio.

Jelonka was standing beneath a tree and had also watched the fight. With a sudden movement she turned and ran away.

I
vo saddled his
horse at top speed and galloped out of the camp. He pushed the animal on mercilessly. The fact that his brother was interested in Liz had affected him. They had always been rivals but never over a woman. He wondered whether Liz and his brother had been close in any way. In amazement he registered the jealousy that was smouldering within him. He had not even thought himself still capable of such emotions.

The fast ride did not clear his head in the way it usually did. Ivo lay right down over the horse’s neck to avoid a low hanging branch. The thundering hooves threw up dirt and left deep tracks in the damp forest floor. Ivo did not decrease his pace until he could make out a village in the distance. He reined in the stallion and let him continue at a steady trot. In the village there was an inn, in front of which he tied up the sweaty horse. He gave a lad a coin to give the horse some water.

When he entered the bar it took a while for his eyes to grow accustomed to the dim lighting conditions, having come in from the bright sunlight. Tobacco smoke hung heavily in the air and further impeded ones’ vision. It smelt appetisingly of stew and freshly baked bread but Ivo had not come here to eat. After his eyes had got used to the lighting he went straight to a table at which cards were being played.

One of the players was just getting up to leave.

“Good evening, gentlemen. Do you need another player?” asked Ivo.

“Well, as you can see, a space has just become free. If you can meet the stakes and you play cleanly …”

“I have enough money,” said Ivo and sat down on the vacant seat.

In the first two rounds Ivo lost his stake, but then the tables turned and he won almost every round. First one player, then another, withdrew.  Ivo played on, fully focussed. He was thinking about America and his dream, so he risked everything and won. His expression remained indifferent and showed nothing of the triumph that he was feeling. Casually he put away his winnings, took his cap and got up from the table.

“Gentlemen, I don’t think I should challenge Fortuna here any longer. If you would excuse me. It was my pleasure,” he bid farewell to his fellow players and put on his cap.

Ivo went to the bar and sat down. He had doubled his money, so he could allow himself a drink.

“What will it be?” asked the innkeeper.

“Whisky – a double!”

Ivo had already drunk two double whiskies when a discussion between two men near him grabbed his attention.

“… a reward. My client is determined to find his ward. He is very worried about the poor child,” said one of them — a tall, thin, semi-bald man.

“I would very much like to earn such a reward but I haven’t seen the little one. – What did you say the girl is called again?” answered the stocky man with red, shaggy hair.

“Elizabeth. Elizabeth Graham. She has blond hair, is very pretty and has a delicate figure. The poor thing is completely crazy because of the death of her parents and no longer knows what is good for her. My client is taking his duty of care very seriously. He fears that something may have happened to Elizabeth.”

“Hm, a woman travelling alone … one cannot of course rule out the fact that she may have fallen into the hands of somebody who …”

“That’s why it’s so important that I find her as quickly as possible and limit the damage.”

“I will listen out. I hear a lot when I go from house to house offering my services. I’m a knife grinder, you know, a knife grinder – if I find out anything, how can I get into contact with you?”

The thin man gave a card to the red-haired man.

“Here’s the address of our office. I’ll give you some cash for your trouble, and with that you can pay a messenger, should the need arise.”

The knife grinder took the card and got up.

“I’ll keep my eyes and ears open,” he promised. “I must leave now, though. If I find anything out I’ll let you know.

“That’s very kind of you. Many thanks.”

Ivo listened to the discussion as if bewitched. So that’s how it was. Liz was on the run from her guardian. She possibly feared that someone might kill her to get to her inheritance. In the camp she was quite safe: hardly anyone dared to go into the midst of a gypsy clan alone. No one would dare to snoop around in the camp. Still, it would be appropriate to warn Liz. With that his intention of going to America went under the table. He had to go back to the camp. Ivo paid and left the inn. His horse snorted in greeting.

“Come on, my friend, we have to go back. Nothing’s going to come of our voyage to America yet.”