A Breath of Scandal

by Connie Mason

  “I’m sorry,” he said before she had time to react. “I shouldn’t have said that. It wasn’t appropriate.”

  “I’ll leave you to your breakfast,” Lara bit out as she fled from the wagon.

  “Damnation,” Julian muttered, frowning at his food. Lara was the last person in the world he wanted to hurt.

  Julian bolted down his meal, tasting little of what he ate as he silently cursed himself for causing the stricken look on Lara’s face. But picturing Lara with another man, or selling herself at fairs as Gypsy women were known to do, made him angry as hell.

  After breakfast Julian decided he felt well enough to venture outside on his own. The quicker he recovered, the sooner he could forget Lara’s snapping black eyes and lush lips. Julian did not notice Ramona enter the wagon after he left. Had he been there he would have seen her study the tea leaves in his cup.

  Why did Lara climb in bed with him last night? Would she return tonight? ’Twas obvious to him that she was offering herself to him. Was he fit enough to accept her offer if she crawled in bed with him tonight? He doubted it. But it wouldn’t be long. After considerable thought, Julian decided it would hurt nothing to avail himself of the fiery Gypsy wench’s body if she gave the slightest indication that she was willing.

  The moment Julian stepped down from the wagon he was bombarded with greetings.

  “Drago, does your wife know you’re out and about on your own?” someone called to him.

  “When are we going to celebrate your marriage, Drago?” another man asked. “Everyone is looking forward to the feast and dancing. Wait until you see Lara dance. She is magnificent.”

  Some merely waved, and Julian waved back, accepting their friendship in the manner in which it was offered. These people had accepted him as one of their own, and he vowed to keep them safe from his enemies. The only way he could be sure of their safety was to leave the moment he was well enough to travel. By that time his skin should have returned to its natural color.

  Julian’s inspection of the campsite led him to a corral where a large number of horses were herded together. Some were of inferior quality, but most were prime horseflesh, the kind that would demand high prices at any fair in the country, or even the auction at Tattersalls. Julian wondered where the Rom had acquired such quality stock. Had they stolen them?

  “Do you see anything you like?” Rondo asked as he came up to join Julian.

  “You have some of the finest horses I’ve ever seen. Quite amazing, really. Are they stolen?”

  Julian could have kicked himself the moment the words left his mouth. Not all Gypsies were thieves, just most of them. He could tell Rondo was insulted by the belligerent jut of his chin.

  “A stallion and three blooded mares were gifts from … Never mind, ’tis none of your business. We bred them, and you see the results before you. The herd belongs to Pietro. We care for them and everyone shares in the profits when they are sold at fairs.”

  Julian didn’t know whether to believe him or not. They were fine horses. He knew of few men willing to make gifts of their prime horses.

  “Who cares for them?”

  “Myself, for one. Others help from time to time.”

  “Perhaps I can help. I’ve always been good with horses.”

  “You? A smuggler?” He sneered. “I wouldn’t trust you with my dog.”

  Julian sent him a startled look. “What makes you think I’m a smuggler?”

  “ ’Tis obvious. Those men who came looking for you were rough sailors. The only ships that enter this cove are engaged in smuggling. We’ve seen them before but do not interfere. ’Tis none of our business. Why do they want to kill you?”

  “I’m not a smuggler. I cannot tell you more without endangering your people.”

  “What are you? Who are you?”

  “I cannot say. Believe me when I say I will do my best to protect your people.”

  “What about Lara? You are her husband. What are your plans for her?”

  Julian shifted uncomfortably. “I’ll always be grateful to Lara for saving my life, but we both know a Romany ritual is not recognized in English courts. Nothing legally binding transpired between me and Lara. Once I leave, you are free to resume your relationship with her. If you will excuse me, I’ll continue my exercise.”

  Julian could feel Rondo’s hot gaze on him as he walked away. He didn’t blame Rondo. Julian was an interloper among people who did not easily accept strangers. If not for Lara, he felt sure he would have been left on the shore to die.

  Julian strolled back to camp. He was tired, and his wounds throbbed like the very devil, but at least he was mobile and gaining strength every day. Soon he would be well enough to return to London and continue his investigation.

  Julian saw little of Lara that day. She went along with some of the women to a nearby village to buy supplies for their journey to Lockerbie. Ramona changed his bandages later that afternoon, and he felt so drained he fell asleep soon afterward. He awakened when Lara returned to the wagon to call him to supper.

  “You will join us tonight, won’t you?” Lara asked. “My family would like it if you ate with them.”

  “Of course,” Julian replied. “I’d like to speak with Pietro about helping with the horses anyway. I can present the idea to him tonight during the meal.”

  “Are you sure you feel well enough?” Lara asked anxiously. “I wouldn’t want you to have a relapse.”

  “Don’t fret, Lara. I’m well aware of my limitations. Can you tell me how to get to the pool? I’d like to bathe before I eat.”

  Lara gave Julian directions, then left to help Ramona put the finishing touches on the meal.

  Ramona and Pietro seemed pleased to have Julian join them when he returned from the pool.

  “Do you have family somewhere who might be worrying about you?” Ramona inquired. “Perhaps you’d like to send word to them.”

  “I have a sister who is probably wondering why I’ve been away so long, but she’s accustomed to my extended absences. My brother lives in the Highlands with his family, and would have no reason for concern.”

  Ramona and Pietro exchanged speaking glances. “I told you Drago had no wife,” Ramona hissed into her husband’s ear. “I read his palm after he was brought to us, and I’ve studied the tea leaves in his cup on two separate occasions.”

  Paying little heed to the whisperings of the Gypsy couple, Julian stared at Lara instead. She looked exceptionally beautiful tonight. Her tousled ebony curls gleamed with reddish highlights in the moonlight, and the flickering flames from the campfire gilded her skin a creamy gold. Tiny pinpoints of light danced in the dark centers of her exotically slanted eyes, giving mute testimony to her volatile nature. There was little Julian did not admire about the tempting Gypsy, but she was not for him.

  “Dance for us, Lara!” someone shouted.

  Instruments were brought out and the strains of a vigorous Gypsy melody filled the air. The jingle of tambourines and the energy of fiddles soon had all of them clapping and stomping their feet.

  “Dance, Lara!” a chorus of voices urged.

  Julian frowned when Rondo bowed before Lara and held out his hand. After a quick glance at Julian, Lara took Rondo’s hand. Immediately he swung her into a spirited dance, whirling her round and round, her flashing skirts flying high to reveal shapely legs. Their bodies swayed and twisted together seductively, like passionate lovers swept up in an ancient mating ritual. Julian’s gaze was riveted on Lara’s lithe body as she leaped into the air and glided like a feather on the wind into Rondo’s arms. Never had he seen such gracefulness, such wanton abandon. Never had he been so utterly beguiled.

  Never had he felt such overwhelming jealousy.

  Hands clenched, teeth grinding together, Julian wanted to jump up and separate the dancers, but of course he didn’t. He no longer wondered whether Rondo and Lara were lovers. No one but intimate lovers could dance together in such a manner.

  Unable to stand the si
ght of Lara’s flashing thighs and heaving bosom, he quietly rose and returned to the wagon. He lit a candle, tore off his clothes, and threw himself facedown on the bed. The music seemed to go on forever, and he buried his head beneath the pillow to muffle the sound. He had no idea why it bothered him, but he didn’t like it one damn bit.

  Julian was nothing like his brother Sinjun. In the past he had scolded Sinjun about his wicked ways so often he’d lost count. Julian was the steady, sensible brother, the one who made the rules and followed them. Sinjun had called him stodgy, and Emma thought him too strict. If they could see him now, lusting after a common Gypsy whore, they wouldn’t believe it. He hardly believed it himself.

  He had cared deeply for Diana, the fiancée his father had chosen for him, and he would have been content to spend the rest of his life with her had she lived. She had given herself to him before their marriage, and Diana had been carrying his child when she died, but he couldn’t remember once lusting after her. He was too much of a gentleman for that. He still hadn’t recovered from her death, which had occurred two days before their wedding. The accident had been no accident, he’d discovered, but an attempt to end his life. The Jackal did not know that Diana had been riding alone in his coach that fateful day.

  The memories still hurt after all this time. He still hadn’t found the man responsible for Diana’s death, but he was getting closer.

  The music stopped and Julian let out a sigh of relief. But his relief was short-lived when Lara opened the door and ducked inside the wagon.

  She approached the bed. “Aren’t you feeling well? You left early.”

  “I’m fine,” Julian growled. “You and Rondo dance well together.”

  “We’ve been doing it since we were children.”

  Julian heard the rustle of clothing and stiffened. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting ready for bed.”

  “What about Rondo?”

  “What about him?”

  “Doesn’t he want you tonight? The way you were flashing your thighs and throwing yourself at him, I assumed you would go to him tonight. ’Tis obvious he wanted you.”

  She sent Julian a quelling look. “Rondo and I are childhood friends. As for my dancing, ’tis in my blood. My body moves in rhythm to the music, independent of my mind. I have little control over it.” Her eyes narrowed, as if compelled by a sudden thought to speak. “Do you want me, Drago?”

  “I doubt I’m capable of rising to the occasion tonight,” Julian said wryly. “But, aye, I suppose I do want you. Since I am incapable, maybe one of the other men …”

  Lara’s gasp of outrage warned him he’d gone too far.

  “Damn you, Drago!” she snarled. “I managed to control my temper while you were so ill, but now that you’re better, I won’t stand for your insults. I’m a Gypsy, nothing can change that, but you could at least disguise your contempt for me and my people while you’re living here. I’m sharing your bed because ’tis expected of me, not because I want anything from a gadjo.”

  God; she’s magnificent, Julian thought, eyeing her with appreciation. His gaze was riveted on her heaving breasts, until reluctantly he returned it to her furious black eyes and expressive face. He wanted to pull her down onto the bed and make tempestuous love to her.

  He heaved a regretful sigh. “I’m sorry, Lara. I’m behaving badly, but I mean you and your people no disrespect. I’m distraught because you are in my bed and I can do nothing about it.”

  His words appeared to have little impact on her anger as she turned and flounced out the door.

  He believes me a whore, Lara thought as she walked over to the dying fire and plopped down on a bench. Some Gypsy women were promiscuous, but she wasn’t one of them. She’d have to love a man before giving herself to him. Lara knew better than to expect Drago to take their marriage seriously, or to care about her. It was inevitable that Drago would leave, and a foregone conclusion that she would join her father in London.

  Lara sat beside the fire, hugging her knees to ward off the night chill, until the wood had burned down to ash. Then she rose stiffly and returned to the wagon. The candle had burned down to a stub, but it shed enough light to reveal a sleeping Drago. Lara blew out the candle, undressed down to her shift, and eased into bed. She heard Drago sigh before he gathered her against him. Fearing she would awaken him if she removed his arm, she closed her eyes and settled down to sleep.

  She awoke before Drago, arose, dressed, and quietly left the wagon. Pietro was already up and stirring the fire. Ramona had just stepped out of her wagon and was hurrying over to begin breakfast.

  “You’re up early, little one,” Pietro said, greeting her with a smile. “How fares Drago?”

  “He grows stronger every day,” Lara replied. She said nothing about Drago leaving once he was fully recovered, but she knew Pietro understood that he would leave when the time came.

  Soon the camp began to stir. Lara went to the pool to bathe. The water was cool, so she washed quickly and returned to camp. She was helping Ramona when she spied Drago walking to the pool with Rondo and some of the other men.

  “How soon do you plan to leave?” Rondo asked as he sidled up beside Julian.

  Julian stared at him. “Are you anxious to be rid of me?”

  “You are dangerous to have around.”

  “What are you trying to say?”

  “You do not appreciate Lara. What do you know about her? Did she tell you anything about herself?”

  Julian pushed his fingers through his hair in a distracted manner. “What is there to know? Fear not, I’m no competition to you, Rondo. Once I leave, Lara is free to continue her life as it was before I entered it.”

  “You’re a fool, gadjo. Lara is too good for either of us.”

  Julian had no idea what Rondo was talking about, and obviously Rondo wasn’t going to elaborate for he strode away. Julian bathed quickly, taking care to keep his bandages dry, then he returned to camp. Ramona placed a plate and cup in his hands and he sat down to join them.

  Julian watched Lara move around the campfire, remembering how she’d looked last night, gyrating to the music. She had moved with unfettered abandon, an earthy blend of feminine allure and sensuality. Was he the only man driven to lust by her flashing thighs and heaving bosom? He doubted it. Watching Lara dance had made his heart pound and the blood flow hot and thick through his veins.

  Julian was jarred back to the present when Pietro said, “You’re not eating, Drago. Does the food not appeal to you?”

  Julian bit into a piece of savory fried bread. “The food is fine, Pietro. I’m sorry if I appear distracted.”

  Pietro rolled his eyes. “Oh, aye, I know about distractions.”

  Julian concentrated on his plate. Could Pietro read his mind? He hoped not.

  Julian chewed his food thoughtfully. He was finishing his tea when a cry caused him to look up in alarm. A young lad ran toward them, yelling and waving his arms excitedly. “Pietro! Men on horseback are coming.”

  Voices so recently engaged in conversation fell silent as everyone turned toward Pietro for instruction. Pietro looked at Julian and frowned. “You must be an important man to bring your enemies back.”

  Julian set down his plate. “You think they come for me?”

  “Aye, they come for you,” Ramona answered. “We will give them nothing to cause suspicion. Lara, come and sit beside your husband.”

  Lara set the tea kettle down beside the fire and hurried over to join Julian.

  “Perhaps I should hide,” Julian suggested.

  “Too late,” Pietro said. “Fear not. You are one of us now. I have seen to everything.”

  Pietro’s words seemed to reassure the Gypsies, for they returned to their meal and conversation. But Julian remained puzzled by Pietro’s last remark. His heart pumped furiously as six armed men rode into the camp. Julian recognized their leader as the smuggler named Crockett.

  Pietro stood and waited for the riders to rein in. />
  “Are ye the leader here?” Crockett asked, dismounting.

  “I am Pietro. What do you want?”

  “Has the man we were looking for turned up? Have any bodies washed ashore recently?”

  “No strangers have appeared in our camp,” Pietro assured him. Then Pietro said something that startled Julian. “Strange that you should ask about a body. We did find a dead man on the beach shortly after your first visit to our camp.”

  Crockett’s attention sharpened. “Dead, ye say? Where is the body?”

  “We buried it, of course.”

  Crockett made a slow perusal of the faces peering at him over their plates. His gaze settled on Julian. Julian held his breath, not daring to look up. Would Crockett recognize him without the beard and dressed in Gypsy garb? Obviously not, for Crockett’s lustful gaze moved on to Lara. Julian wanted to jump up and shield Lara, but exercised restraint. Drawing attention to himself would doubtlessly bring trouble to the people who sheltered him.

  “The dead man. What did he look like?”

  Pietro shrugged. “ ’Twas hard to tell. He’d been in the water a long time. He was tall, had dark hair, and appeared to be gunshot.”

  Crockett’s beady eyes narrowed. “Show me the grave.”

  Julian stifled a groan. Things were going from bad to worse, and he didn’t even have a weapon with which to defend himself and Lara.

  “Follow me,” Pietro said.

  Julian sent Lara a startled look. He started to rise, but Lara’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.

  “There is no grave,” Julian hissed.

  “Trust Pietro,” Lara whispered back. “He’s thought of everything.”

  Pietro and Crockett disappeared over a small rise. Julian waited with bated breath, fearing for the old man’s life once Crockett learned there was no grave. He allowed himself to breathe again when he saw both men returning. Moments later, Crockett mounted without uttering another word and rode off with his men.

  “What happened? There was no grave,” Julian said as Pietro returned to his place beside the campfire.