Kristiana scurried along behind Logan, his long-fingered hand now manacling her wrist. Aware of the sudden hard set of his jaw, she tried to deduce what thoughts had been tumbling through his mind. Then she remembered his warning about not leaving the camp. Fearing she’d suffer the consequences of her disobedience once they were safe and alone, she dug her heels into the ground.
Feeling her resistance, Logan stopped and turned toward her. “What’s wrong?”
“I’ll not go with you,” she stated, trying to break his hold. Immediately she remembered Liza’s words. “You had hoped to betray me… sell me to Edward. You are not to be trusted.” Her fingers frantically worked at his, but they remained firm around her wrist. “I order you to set me free!”
Logan held her fast. “Sell you to Edward?” he questioned, his gaze intent upon her. “From whose lips did you hear those words?”
“Liza’s,” she returned, her gaze now locked with his. “While she served you last night she overheard you telling your uncle your plans.”
“And you believed her,” he bit out. Stunned she would deem such a lie to be true, especially after all he’d risked for her, Logan felt at first hurt, then angry. “Tell me, Kristiana, if I wanted to sell you to the bastard, do you think I would have kept you with me this long? Would I have protected you while seeing to your care? Tell me, why am I here now?” Her mouth opened, but he cut her off. “I suppose you think it’s so I can collect my due. If money had been my game, Kristiana, I’d have struck a bargain with him the night you first fell into my arms.” He released her wrist much as he would have done a hot coal. “Go! You’re free! I no longer wish to be burdened with you.”
Wide-eyed, Kristiana watched as he strode to the stallion, which stood only a few yards away. Grabbing a handful of its mane, he vaulted to its back. Surely he wasn’t going to desert her, was he? Then she saw his fingers grip the reins; his eyes pinpointed hers.
“Pray he does not find you, Kristiana, for you will suffer greatly. Tenfold what you have already.”
Her heart hammered wildly as Kristiana realized he intended to leave her behind. “Wait!” she called, her feet scrambling after him. Catching up to the slow-moving horse, she tugged at the Gypsy’s leg. “Please don’t leave me! My life will be worth nothing without you!” she cried, knowing it was true. Through the black days of her recent past he had been her one ray of hope, the one light of promise, and if he deserted her now, she knew she would lose the courage to go on. “Please don’t leave me,” she beseeched, sobbing.
At her soft cry the stallion was reined in, and golden eyes gazed down at her upturned face to note the sheen of tears in her wide green eyes. The fear of being left to Edward’s mercy shone in her gaze, and the wall Logan had erected around his heart crumbled. A sigh rolled through his lips. “Goddess, I fear someday you will cause me much grief… far more than I will be able to endure. It would be best if I were to leave you now, but I cannot.”
He offered his arm, and she clutched it willingly; then, with ease, he lifted her from the ground, settling her between his sinewy thighs. She nestled deep into his arms and leaned against his chest. Drawing a deep breath, Logan swallowed the groan that had risen in his throat.
Carefully and silently he steered the stallion through the narrow streets of Stirling, his strong arm securely wrapped around her waist. As he did so Kristiana became the focus of his thoughts, and he wondered at his own words. Would she indeed cause him much grief?
Where the utterance had come from, he was unable to say; but as they left the town, the stallion moving across a wide span of open ground to disappear into the cover of the dense wood, Logan was somehow certain he’d just pronounced his own fate.
6
Sure hands gripped the reins as the Gypsy carefully maneuvered the stallion through the thick wood. Kristiana watched as the beast’s large hooves formed an evasive pattern in the soft earth. The web of false trails her protector now laid was meant to lead Edward into a maze of confusion were he to follow. Once the right course had finally been sorted out she and her Gypsy would be far away. Or so she hoped.
Satisfied with his work, Logan tightened his hold on Kristiana’s waist. He urged the horse down a rocky embankment into a small stream, then followed the water’s flow. A short distance down the runnel curved sharply, and golden eyes espied an outcropping of rock. “Hold on,” he instructed his unusually subdued charge. His steadying arm pulled her back against him. Then, with the firm press of Logan’s knees, the stallion bounded up onto the solid projection.
At the unspoken command the taut sinew rippled along the inner planes of the Gypsy’s hard thighs, caressing Kristiana’s hips. Her eyelids fell shut, and she swallowed the same agonized groan that had arisen in her throat at least a dozen times before. From the moment he had drawn her up onto the stallion’s back—his strong arms surrounding her, his hips nuzzling close to her own—an odd sensation much like the flutter of a bird’s wings had situated itself in the pit of her stomach. Each time he moved a rush of excitement raced through her veins, leaving her breathless, her skin flushed.
A ribbon of scarlet striped her cheeks now, and Kristiana imagined she might swoon or perhaps scream. Possibly both! In desperation she tried to quell the unexplained feelings he evoked, but his continued closeness simply fanned the flame burning inside her. Quickly she edged forward.
With the move the stallion lunged forward, nearly unseating its dual burden. Fighting to control the skittish horse and keep it on the hard band of rock snaking up the hillside and away from the soft earth where its tracks were bound to be noticed, Logan forcefully hauled Kristiana against him. At his sharp command the beast settled immediately.
Angered that his thoughts had drifted backward into the recent past, where he had been reliving the touch of Kristiana’s sweet lips beneath his own, Logan lashed out at her for his own inattentiveness. “Your restless motions will not aid our escape. In fact, they might lead us to our deaths—so keep still!” he snarled irritably, his heated breath fanning her ear. At its touch Kristiana shivered through and through; she stiffened. Noting the reaction, its quiver having been absorbed by his own body before she’d suddenly turned to stone, Logan could not help but smile. “Relax, goddess,” he crooned softly. “We’ll soon meet up with the others, and you’ll then be free of my arms.”
The hot whisper, coupled with its gentle urging—which Kristiana had so longed to hear—had flowed from his lips to caress the delicate folds of her ear anew, yet this time it was far closer. Valiantly she fought the swell of excitement that threatened to chase through her again, along with its resulting tremble of delight. “How can I relax,” she snapped defensively, “when your arm holds me with such brutal potency? I can hardly breathe!”
His firm grasp loosened, but only slightly. “Better?” he questioned, suppressing his grin.
“Some, but it is still too tight.”
“How’s this?”
Relief washed through Kristiana when his arm withdrew completely, the palm of his hand fixing itself flat against his hard thigh. “Far better.” A sigh escaped her as the self-imposed rigidity drained from her body, then she wished she had remained on alert.
With the press of the Gypsy’s knees the stallion bounded up the hillside, its hooves striking sharply against the narrow strip of rock. Bouncing along like an untethered sack of grain, Kristiana fought to stay astride. Her hand lashed out, fingers curling around a tuft of mane. She prayed the action would steady her, but her bottom struck the steed’s wide back off cadence. Jarred sideways, Kristiana saw the ground coming toward her; a cry of hopelessness erupted from her lips.
Straightaway she was pulled upright as a strong arm banded her waist. “That is why I hold you ‘with such brutal potency,’ ” Logan stated, the steed topping the knoll. “And I will continue to do so until I feel it is safe for us to dally along at a walk.”
Kristiana’s hands latched onto his arm as they descended the steep incline, her back l
eaning into his sturdy chest. Hitting level ground, the stallion’s hooves dealt a straight course through the wood toward the road that led into Stirling. Upon the Gypsy’s command the steed dashed across it, heading ever closer to the camp.
Fretting over having to face the unfriendly bunch again—especially the venom-tongued Rupa—Kristiana became more restive with each passing yard. Undoubtedly they would harangue her for her doltishness, accuse her of nearly bringing destruction down around them all—which was true—then lay curse after curse upon her head. Facing the pox, perhaps even the plague, would be far easier than what surely awaited her now!
Anxiety quaked through her as her eyes closed, a silent prayer of redemption rising into the air through her fast-moving lips. Beneath her she felt the stallion bound forward, then it was reined to a halt. Slumping against the Gypsy, she slowly opened her eyes and viewed the forsaken clearing. “Where are they?” she asked, surprise mixed with relief manifesting itself in her voice.
Logan pointed the stallion toward the area where his uncle’s wagon had once stood. “They’ve fled—the same as we’ll do in a moment.”
When the horse stopped by the remnants of the campfire where she’d last encountered Rupa Kristiana frowned. “But how did they know…” Abruptly she remembered the haste in which he had left Stirling. “You had spotted Edward and warned the women to take flight.” The reality of Liza’s deception took hold. “She lied to me,” Kristiana said, knowing now that Liza had purposely set her on the road to near-disaster. “Why would she do that?”
“Who—Liza?”
Turning, Kristiana gazed up at him. “Yes, Liza. After you had stopped to warn the women she told me you were on your way to fetch me—said you planned to sell me back to Edward. That’s why I accused you as I did.” Stupidly so, she thought. And because she had, she’d nearly been left at Edward’s mercy.
Golden eyes beheld her, then Logan shook his head. “She lied, Kristiana, because you do not belong. You are a stranger in our midst. All Gypsies lie and trick those outside their race. It is tradition. Even among the Rom deceit is prevalent, but it is done good-naturedly in the form of boasting—about who has the best horse or finest wagon, who has the strongest sons or comeliest daughters. The Rom are a proud people who believe they are better than any other, and they show their disdain by dupery. Liza is no different from the rest.”
To Kristiana his words sounded as though he were defending the girl’s actions. But then, if he planned to marry Liza, why should he not try to defend her? “And what about you?” she asked, having searched his eyes for a long, enduring moment. “Am I to trust you? Do you lie to me also?”
Knowing he had not told her the full truth of his past, or of his link to Edward, Logan found he could not hold her gaze. Instead he evaded her question with one of his own.
“Perhaps, Kristiana, I should be the one to ask if I am to trust you.”
“I have never broken trust with you!” she defended.
“Haven’t you?” he asked after spotting the bone fragments that lay by the remains of the smoldering campfire. They pointed out the way the fleeing band of Gypsies had gone. “You broke my trust when you left with the women. And by doing so you nearly caused a holocaust to befall the people who gave you their protection.”
Kristiana’s eyes widened. “How?” she asked, thinking his accusation too strong. “Edward—”
“Edward would have shown no mercy. Had I not spotted him first and sounded the alarm, the blood of my people would now stain the streets of Stirling. For the sake of killing one he is known to kill all. He knows now you were with the Gypsies. Most likely he’s tearing apart the countryside now, looking for the one who stole you away from him in the first place. And from the reaction of the good citizens who chased you through their town, I have no doubt they have managed to point him in this very direction.” He turned the stallion and urged it into a full gallop, the clearing swiftly left behind. “So, Kristiana,” he said near her ear, “were my people still camped back there, Edward would have burned the lot of them—all because he had seen you!”
Kristiana could have protested that even if she had remained at the camp, there was the chance Edward might have spotted one of the wandering band in Stirling, loosing his destruction on them all then and there. Afterward he could easily have followed the few who had managed to flee, hoping to find her. The whole would have been burned anyway! But the Gypsy had insisted Edward had noticed none of them until she had made her own presence known. Still, the people of Stirling had seen the Gypsies. Moreover, they’d felt the effects of their thievery. Why shouldn’t the “good citizens” aim him in this direction? But the question remained: Would Edward have asked about the larcenous band outright?
In the end, Kristiana swallowed the objection she’d thought to pose and placed the blame where it belonged—squarely on her own shoulders. Had she stayed at the camp, as she’d been instructed to do, Edward would never have discovered she was near. As a result of Balo’s alert the Gypsies would have fled the area anyway, but it would not with such life-threatening haste.
She gazed up at him. “You are right,” she admitted, his ear close to her mouth. “By disobeying I did break your trust. I am sorry.” She thought a moment. “If your people were in such danger, why did you come back for me?”
Logan laughed. “I have wondered the same, but I find I have no answer.” Liar! he condemned himself. Other than his perfunctory warning, it was not his people’s welfare that had concerned him when he’d first detected Edward’s presence in Stirling, but Kristiana’s. Yet he was unwilling to admit it—openly, at least. And especially to her! “Just be happy I came for you. Otherwise, my sweet, you’d now be in his arms, not mine.”
The pair pressed onward, heading toward the sun’s faint glow, the orange globe having fallen beyond the hilly horizon. Kristiana fell silent. Caught in her thoughts, she decided she was very glad her Gypsy had come for her. Then, as she reviewed their conversation, she realized he hadn’t responded to her query about whether or not he was to be trusted. Instead he had evaded the issue by turning the question of reliability on her, and she considered why he’d done so.
Perhaps, she decided, it was because he knew he was of the same ilk as Liza and the others—capable of deceit, willing to show his disdain by lying to her merely because she did not belong—and he was hesitant to admit it. Yet to Kristiana, that portraiture of his character appeared false, for he seemed quite different from those he claimed as his people, and she found herself in a state of confusion.
Oh, trifles! she thought, deciding she’d trust no one in the strange passel of wanderers—except, perhaps, Sidi. But she couldn’t help remembering all the times her handsome Gypsy had come to her aid, and although she planned to guard herself against him—especially the unexplained feelings he managed to evoke in her—she would remain ever grateful he’d come to her rescue once again.
Her decision made, she glanced ahead of her to see the caravan of wagons snaking along through the wood. How long they had been trailing the group she could not say, but it was obvious the Gypsy had been holding back. He did so until the shadows of darkness encompassed the landscape completely, then he urged the stallion forward.
Again Sidi’s wagon was the last in line. Riding up beside it, the golden-eyed Gypsy instructed its driver to stop, then angled the horse toward the rear of the vehicle, where he reined the sleek-coated beast to a halt.
His feet hitting the ground, Logan reached up, and as his hands spanned her waist Kristiana’s fingers settled onto his shoulders. Light as a feather, she was lifted, then her leather-swathed feet touched the earth. “Go inside,” he instructed after he’d lowered the steps and opened the doors. “It will be a strain on the horses, but it cannot be helped. There’s still a chance Edward might catch up to us, so keep hidden.”
Kristiana had noticed the Gypsy’s gaze had hit upon everything around her—everything but her. He’d become a stranger again, she thought; th
en she decided it was just as well. “And what about them?” She nodded toward the moving wagons. “Am I to keep away from their eyes also?”
“Their tempers will cool in a few days. Until then it might be best if you do. Inside with you now.”
Kristiana gazed up at him for a long moment, but he refused to look at her. Slowly she moved to the steps and climbed them. “Thank you,” she said over her shoulder; then she felt her way through the darkened interior to sit on a low stool.
The doors shut, the ladder thumped into place, and as she listened she heard his solid footsteps withdraw. Muffled hoof beats trod past the wagon, heading toward the fore of the line. When the sound had faded completely Kristiana closed her eyes. Despite her promise to guard herself against him, thoughts of the Gypsy whirled through her mind at a dizzying pace.
Her eyes opened, and in the darkness long-lashed golden orbs ringed with onyx stared down at her, sunny and alive, while vibrant laughter rang in her ears. A rich, shiny lock of black hair curled over a wide forehead, and her hand tingled, wanting to touch it, to feel its rich texture. Fingers ached to sweep the fallen tress from that capacious brow, their length finally twining in the thickness covering a noble head. Then her mind’s eye caught sight of a teasing grin as pliant masculine lips spread away from straight, white teeth. The grin faded, and an eager mouth seemed to lower toward her own while strong arms enveloped her, pulling her ever closer to a solid body far larger than her own.
A riot of emotion swept through Kristiana as she leaned toward her vision, desiring all it promised. At once the wagon lurched forward, the horses hastily tracking after the ever-moving line ahead of them. Jerked from her trance, Kristiana blinked. Her handsome Gypsy was gone! Feeling her face flame with embarrassment, she silently chastised herself for allowing her thoughts to wander anew. To partake in such ridiculous feminine fantasies was a frivolous waste of time, and as she released a long, cleansing breath she vowed it would never happen again.
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