by Connie Mason
Julian blinked. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. According to Pietro, and Julian had no reason to doubt him, Lara was his wife. Had a marriage taken place without his knowledge? How? Why? Nothing made sense.
Julian waited until Pietro had scraped the hair away from his throat with the sharp blade before challenging him. “You must be mistaken, Pietro. I recall no wedding. I would never have married Lara, or any other woman. I cried off marriage years ago.”
The blade stilled beneath Julian’s chin. “Lara claimed you as her husband three times before witnesses, and you acknowledged her claim. ’Tis all that’s necessary for a Romany marriage.”
Julian blinked. “Why would she do that?”
“To protect you from those who wished you harm. To the Rom, you and Lara are husband and wife. Do not dishonor Lara by denying the marriage.”
Julian recognized a warning when he heard one. “I appreciate what Lara did for me and would do nothing to hurt her. But you know I must leave when I am well. My life is in London.”
Pietro gave him a cryptic smile. “We are but pawns. We must fulfill what God wills.”
Julian squirmed uncomfortably, chilled by Pietro’s words. He was vastly relieved when Lara returned with Ramona.
“All done,” Pietro said, wiping away the last traces of Julian’s beard.
“Oh, my,” Lara exclaimed.
Julian glanced at her, wondering why she was staring at him. Did she like him better with the beard? Not that it mattered, he told himself. He and Lara had to speak soon about this husband and wife thing.
“Did you bring the walnut stain?” Pietro asked.
“Aye,” Ramona replied. “Lara and I will take over from here.”
Pietro left the crowded wagon and Julian submitted meekly as Ramona and Lara darkened his skin with walnut oil. When they finished, Lara handed him a mirror. A man with dark skin and black hair who could easily pass as a Gypsy gazed back at him. He barely recognized himself.
Julian gazed out the window with longing. “I’d like to stroll outside.”
“Lara will help you,” Ramona said as she gathered up what was left of the walnut stain. “But you must promise to return to the wagon when you start to tire. ’Tis your first day out of bed.”
Julian promised, though he had other ideas. How could he regain his strength if he didn’t stretch himself to his limits? The moment Ramona was gone, Julian stood and offered his arm to Lara. “Shall we go?”
Julian didn’t realize how weak he was until he started down the three steps leading to the ground. Without Lara’s support he couldn’t have made it.
“Shall we stroll about the camp?” Lara asked.
“That will do for a start.” This was going to be more difficult than he’d first anticipated, Julian decided as he concentrated on putting one foot before the other. Though his pain was not inconsiderable, he bore it stoically.
“Lara, ’tis good to see your man up and around,” a young woman said in passing.
“May your marriage bring you joy and many children,” another woman called out.
Julian grit his teeth and said nothing. He glanced sideways at Lara. She returned his look with one edging on panic.
“Show me where you found me,” Julian said.
“ ’Tis too far,” Lara protested.
“Show me,” he insisted. “If I grow tired, I’ll stop and rest.”
“Very well. This way.”
She turned him gently toward the firth.
“Where is this place?” Julian asked. “ ’Tis beautiful here.”
“We are camped near Dumfries, in Scotland. I was born in Scotland.”
“A Scottish Gypsy,” Julian mused. “My brother makes his home in the Highlands. He’s married to the Macdonald laird.”
“Really?” Lara said, observing him with interest. “Tell me about your family.”
Julian’s jaw hardened. “I’ve already said more than I should have. How much further? I can smell the sea.”
“We are nearly there. Do you wish to rest?”
Though he leaned heavily on Lara’s arm, he wasn’t ready to stop yet. “No.”
The gorse was thick and lush, slowing their progress, but Julian stumbled on. They were walking uphill now, and Julian paused to catch his breath. The vista was stunning. Mountains rose in the distance, and a wild profusion of heather covered the low hills surrounding them. The air smelled of sunshine and flowers, and the day was so clear he could see forever.
Finally they reached the cliff overlooking the beach. The tide was low. Lara pointed out the strip of sand where she’d found him. The place where his life had nearly ended. He owed Lara more than he could ever repay. But marriage? They needed to talk. He found a flat rock and sat down, inviting her to join him.
“You’ve exhausted your strength,” Lara scolded. “I knew it. Shall I call Rondo to carry you back?”
“A short rest is all I need. Besides, it would be a good time for us to talk.”
Lara winced, as if she knew what was coming and dreaded it.
“Pietro said something puzzling,” Julian began. “I don’t know what to make of it.”
Lara smoothed out a wrinkle in her skirt, avoiding his gaze.
“Is it true, Lara? Do your people consider us husband and wife? How did it happen? I don’t recall a wedding ceremony.”
Lara gazed up at him through lowered lids. “Aye. We are married. ’Twas necessary to save your life. I’m sorry. I would never have said you were my husband if those men weren’t going to kill you.”
“Saying we are married doesn’t make it so.”
“It does if you’re Rom. I declared myself three times before witnesses, and you accepted. No formal ceremony is necessary as long as two people publicly announce their intentions to become husband and wife.”
Julian stared at her. “I’m not Romany. You know I must leave soon. This so-called marriage is a sham.”
“Drago, please reconsider. Your life is at stake. What if your enemies return? They will not be looking for a Gypsy man with a wife.”
Julian did reconsider. He wasn’t a foolish man. Nor did he have a death wish. He had no intention of wedding a Gypsy wench, but he could perpetrate a hoax as well as the next man. Better, actually. He’d had plenty of practice in his line of work.
“Hmmm, perhaps you’re right. I will pretend to be your husband for as long as I remain with your people.”
“Pretense isn’t necessary,” Lara replied. “We are husband and wife.” She rose abruptly. “Are you ready to return?”
Julian felt as if he’d walked into a brick wall. What in the hell had he gotten himself into? English law left no room for doubt. His so-called marriage to Lara wouldn’t hold up in an English court of law. Once he returned to London he could safely forget this ever happened and live his life with a clear conscience.
By the time they returned to camp, Julian had exhausted his meager strength. He feared he’d not be able to negotiate the steps into the wagon. Fortunately Pietro recognized his dilemma and took over, supporting him with a firm arm until he reached his bed.
“I hope you don’t have a relapse,” Lara said, fussing over him. “You were very near death for a long time.”
Julian smiled at her wifely show of concern. After Diana and his unborn child had died, he’d let no woman get close to him. He’d had mistresses; he was a man after all. He’d treated them with courtesy, but offered them little affection. He wasn’t interested in a wife or heirs. His life was consumed with bringing the Jackal to justice.
“Take a nap while I help Ramona fix supper,” Lara said, tucking the blanket around him. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“I can eat,” Julian said, surprised that he actually felt hungry for the first time in a long while.
Julian remained thoughtful after Lara left the wagon. He shocked himself by wondering what it would be like to possess Lara’s lithe body. She wasn’t an innocent. Few Gypsy women were. Lara possessed a
natural sensuality that was totally unaffected. Vivacious and spirited, beautiful and tempting, she was a woman no man could resist. Would she turn to flame beneath his mouth and hands? Would she scorch him with her passion?
His body hardened when he imagined how it would feel to be deep inside her. To drive himself into her sweet body. He might lack strength, but he wasn’t dead.
* * *
Lara stirred the stew while Ramona busied herself with their meal. She was startled when Ramona said, “Your husband appears well enough now to share a bed with you.”
Lara sent Ramona a startled look. “Drago doesn’t want a wife, Grandmother. He doesn’t consider our marriage valid.”
“You should have thought about that before you married the man.”
“Do you think it was wrong of me to choose Drago for a husband, Grandmother?”
“ ’Tis not for me to say,” Ramona hedged. “Sometimes fate works in ways we do not understand. I sense no evil in Drago,” she continued, “but he is a troubled man. His palm revealed a history of secrets and contradictions.”
Lara wasn’t overly surprised that Ramona had read Drago’s palm. “What else did you see?”
“Danger,” Ramona muttered. “I fear for you, Lara. Your life is now entangled with Drago’s, whether he likes it or not. He will leave, aye, but you will meet again and be lured into his intrigues. I tell you this to warn you.” She paused. “There is something else.”
“What? Tell me.”
“There is or was a woman in Drago’s life. She is the reason he resists marriage. You may never reach deep enough into his heart to nudge the other woman aside.”
Lara had known from the beginning that her Romany marriage meant nothing to Drago. Unfortunately, she couldn’t stop the feelings that had taken root in her own heart. Intuition told her that Drago was someone special. His speech and manners were too refined for a common man. Despite the fact that she would probably never know who or what he was, her tender feelings for Drago were impossible to dismiss.
“I will hold Drago to no promises,” Lara said with more conviction than she felt. “ ’Tis inevitable that we should separate. Father is expecting me home soon, and I cannot disappoint him.”
Ramona’s dark eyes turned inward and her voice lowered to a hoarse whisper. “You and Drago will meet again under different circumstances. He is not what he seems. He is a man with many inscrutable facets.”
“I’ve already come to that conclusion, Grandmother. Drago refuses to tell me his real name. If we meet again, I’m certain he will not acknowledge me. I will take Drago his supper now.”
“Wait, Lara. About your sleeping arrangement …”
Lara opened and closed her mouth without uttering a word. What did Ramona expect of her?
“You are a married woman.”
“Grandmother! I … Drago doesn’t accept it.”
“You declared yourself before witnesses, little one. You and Drago are husband and wife. What you do about it is your business. Intimacy is a private thing. But Drago is one of us now. We have darkened his skin and given him a Romany name. Our people will protect him should his enemies return, but only if you become Drago’s wife in their eyes. They are clamoring for a feast to celebrate your marriage.”
“But, Grandmother, is that wise?”
“It is the way of the Romany.”
“Very well, Grandmother, I will bow to your wishes if it will keep Drago safe.”
“Trust me, little one.”
“Haven’t I always?”
Julian tried to nap but his mind kept returning to his recent conversation with Lara. She couldn’t possibly believe she was his wife. He was an earl. Earls did not marry Gypsy wenches. Earls married women of good birth and equal rank. His eyes were finally growing heavy when he heard movement inside the wagon. He sensed Lara’s presence before he saw her. His eyes fluttered open.
“You’re awake,” Lara said. “Are you hungry?”
“Starving,” Julian said. He moved slowly to keep the pain at bay as he sat up on the edge of the bed. “Something smells good. Will you join me?”
“I usually eat outside with the others, but I can move a bench beside the bed if you’d like. I brought enough for two.”
“I’d like that,” Julian said. “I’ll join you outside when I’m stronger.”
Lara pulled a bench close to the bed and laid out the food. Then she pulled up a chair and joined Julian. They ate in silence, broken only by the occasional comment on the food. When they finished eating, Lara carried the dirty dishes outside and returned with a basin of water.
“I brought water so you can wash.” Dark eyes searched his face. “You look exhausted. Did you nap?”
“No, but I’m sure I can sleep now.”
“I’ll leave so you can ready yourself for bed.”
Julian remained thoughtful as he prepared for bed. Dimly he wondered where Lara had been sleeping, grateful that she wasn’t taking this bogus marriage seriously. Occupying the same bed wasn’t a good idea. Lord knew Lara was an enticing bit of femininity, and he was no saint. He might forget he was a gentleman with Lara’s warm body curled next to his.
Julian removed his clothing and washed thoroughly, using the water, towel and washcloth Lara had supplied. Then he climbed into bed and fell instantly asleep.
Sometime later Julian was startled awake by something warm and soft burrowing against him. The sweet scent of her woman’s flesh gave him an instant erection.
Lara.
Julian hardly dared to move as she settled into sleep. What did this mean? Did she expect him to make love to her? He was more than willing but wasn’t sure he was capable. When he heard the even cadence of her breathing he felt disappointment, and a measure of relief. But the sudden urge to touch her was beyond his meager resistance. He couldn’t make love to her but he could bloody well touch her. Carefully he turned on his side, slid his arm around her supple waist, and cupped her breast in his palm.
A little voice inside told him Lara was exactly where he wanted her, and the comforting knowledge lulled him to sleep.
Chapter 4
Lara awakened slowly, dimly aware of warmth, and something else. A sensation that brought her body to tingling awareness. A smile touched her lips, then abruptly disolved when she recalled that she was sharing her bed with a man … her husband. One of Drago’s hands cupped her breast. Turning her head slightly, she peered into his face and was relieved to see that he was sleeping.
Did he realize he was touching her intimately? Was he so accustomed to having a woman in his bed that he naturally sought out those intimate places? Lying beside Drago felt right to her, but she knew Drago would never honor their Romany marriage, so she carefully removed his hand from her body and scooted out of bed.
Lara dressed quietly, grabbed a towel, soap, and clean clothing, and let herself out the door. The sun was just rising in the eastern sky when she joined a group of women on their way to bathe in a shallow pool fed by backwater from the firth. Instead of listening to their chatter, she let her thoughts turn to London.
Lara wasn’t looking forward to the season her father wanted her to have. Her skin wasn’t as white as that of the English misses with whom she’d have to compete. Her hair was a wild profusion of ringlets, inky black, not golden blond, and her eyes, tilted up at the corners, were far too exotic to be considered proper.
The years she’d spent at her father’s country home outside London had been for the most part happy ones, but a season in London frightened her. She couldn’t disguise the fact that she was part Gypsy, nor did she want to. But she didn’t have the heart to tell her doting father that her Gypsy blood would prevent her from achieving the success he wished for her. Lara knew she was attractive, but her foreign features would cause much talk and speculation. Regrettably, she couldn’t convince her father that she would be happier living in the country.
“Lara, when will we celebrate your marriage?” a girl named Roxy asked. “I saw y
ou walking with your husband yesterday. He looks well, considering his near brush with death.”
“Soon,” Lara promised. “A few more days perhaps. When he’s strong enough to enjoy the celebration.”
“We’ve not had a wedding to celebrate in a very long time,” another young woman added somewhat wistfully. “I am looking forward to it.”
“Aye,” Roxy agreed excitedly. “Just today Pietro told my father that we must leave this place soon if we wish to reach the Lockerbie fair on opening day.”
While she bathed, Lara considered the upcoming celebration of her wedding to Drago. After the feasting and toasting, her marriage would become a fact … even if Drago and her own father refused to acknowledge it. Lara sighed. Once she returned to her father, her marriage would be real to no one but her people and herself.
Lara returned to camp with the others and helped her grandmother prepare breakfast. She filled a plate with boiled eggs, bread, and tea, and carried them to her wagon. Drago welcomed her with a smile that caused her breath to hitch.
“Where were you?”
“Bathing in the pool with the women. I’ll show you where it is later.”
“I’d like that.”
“I’ve brought breakfast. How do boiled eggs, bread, and tea suit you?”
“They’ll do.”
“I’m sorry we don’t have bacon, kidneys, and coffee.”
He grinned. “You’re making my mouth water.”
Lara sat the tray on the bench. When she looked up, Drago was smiling at her.
“Is something wrong?”
“Were you in bed with me last night or did I dream it?”
Hot color crept up her neck, staining her cheeks red. “You didn’t dream it. Sharing a bed is expected of us. Would you prefer that I sleep elsewhere?”
Julian pictured Lara sleeping in Rondo’s arms and felt his stomach lurch. The thought was revolting. “No, though I’m sure Rondo missed you last night.” The moment the words left his mouth, he wanted to call them back. Bloody hell, what was wrong with him? He had no business criticizing Lara’s morals.
