by Connie Mason
Julian helped Pietro unhitch the horses, then carried their bags to the wagon he was to share with Lara. Lara had arrived before him and had already changed into the comfortable clothing she preferred. He set the bags down and studied her profile as she loosed her hair from its prim bun and ran a brush through the curly raven tresses. Each downward stroke brought new life to those lustrous strands that refused to be tamed no matter how industrious her efforts to conform to society’s dictates.
He stared with appreciation at an elegant bare shoulder exposed by the low neckline of the peasant blouse she had changed into, admiring the way her colorful skirts swung temptingly around her slim ankles. Julian felt a tightening in his groin and had to clench his fists to keep from tossing her on the bed, pushing her skirts up, and thrusting himself inside her. He looked away lest his expression give away his thoughts.
Lara hadn’t felt so free since she’d left the Romany camp weeks ago. The restrictions society placed on her and all women was unbearable. She glanced at Julian, wondering if he’d ever felt like abandoning his title and duties and just enjoying his life. Somehow she doubted it.
Her gaze settled on his face, catching him momentarily unaware. She inhaled sharply, for she’d never seen him quite so focused, so intense. His midnight blue eyes held a certain gleam she’d seen only during their most intimate moments. He caught her watching him and she smiled guiltily.
“What are you thinking?” Lara asked. “You seem so absorbed. Are you worried about Rondo? Don’t be. Pietro will keep him in line.”
“Rondo doesn’t worry me.”
Lara resumed brushing through her tangle of curls. “What is it, then?”
She could hear his breathing, the harsh intake and exhalation, as if he were consciously regulating it. He stepped closer. Her gaze returned to his face and she backed a shaky step away from whatever emotion he strove so hard to control.
“What’s wrong, Julian?”
“I … bloody hell, I don’t understand any of this.” He shook his head and turned away. “I don’t know why I cannot control this raw hunger for you that constantly gnaws at my soul. Have you bewitched me, little Gypsy? If so, release me. I do not like this state of upheaval in which you hold me. Not even Diana …”
He groaned out an oath and stormed out the door without looking back. Had he glanced over his shoulder, he would have seen Lara’s face crumple and tears gather in her eyes.
Why couldn’t Julian see what was before him? Lara wondered dismally. Was his love for his dead fiancée still so alive and vital that he refused to let another woman supplant her in his affections? Why did he have to be so heedless of her feelings? Could he not trust his emotions to tell him what was in his heart?
Lara dried her eyes and turned her mind in another, less painful, direction. She had been surprised at Rondo’s jealousy. He had been, and still was, her friend. How could he think otherwise? He’d always known she must eventually wed an Englishman. Julian and Rondo had been engaged in conversation while she and Ramona were inside the wagon, and from the looks on their faces, it had been a serious discussion. What had Rondo said to Julian?
That night they ate with Pietro and Ramona. After the meal, people drifted by to welcome them back. Later, Lara noticed that Julian appeared restless and asked if he’d like to take a walk.
“Aye,” Julian said. “I’m too unsettled to sleep. There is something I wish to discuss with you and now is as good a time as any.”
“And I have something to ask of you,” Lara answered.
Arm in arm they strolled off toward the brook. Nights were cooler now, and Lara shivered in the damp air.
“You forgot your cloak,” Julian commented as he removed his coat and placed it around her shoulders.
They followed the brook around a bend, moving farther away from the camp. When they reached a grassy knoll Julian’s steps slowed.
“Shall we sit down?”
Lara sank down to the ground. She drew her knees up, folded her arms around them, and waited for Julian to begin. She couldn’t imagine what he wanted to say to her.
“You go first,” Julian invited. “What did you want to ask me?”
“ ’Tis about Rondo. I saw you speaking together earlier. He appeared angry.”
A long pause. “He was. He’s jealous of me.”
Lara shook her head in dismay. “Rondo and I are friends. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“Tell that to Rondo. Our Romany marriage disturbs him. He was happy when I returned to London. He thought you would divorce me and remain with the caravan.”
“That’s ridiculous. I joined my father in London shortly after you left.”
“Rondo expected you to tire of London and the restrictions imposed upon you and return to your grandparents. He thought I’d abandoned you and hoped to gain your affections. He wanted to be more than a friend to you. I suppose he expected you to divorce me however Roms do it, and turn to him.”
“Rondo thought wrong. I would have done as my father wished no matter how much I disliked English ways.”
“Would you have married the man your father chose for you?” Julian asked.
“I … don’t know. ’Twould have been easy enough to divorce you and forsake our Romany marriage, but I probably wouldn’t have. Divorce you, that is. As you pointed out countless times, our marriage isn’t recognized by English courts, so there was no need for a Romany divorce.”
“I think Stanhope was pleased when I offered for you.”
“I believe he finally realized it wouldn’t be easy to marry off his Gypsy daughter. The Earl of Mansfield was more than he had hoped for in a son-in-law.”
“Have you finally accepted that we will marry?”
“No.”
“I want our children to be legitimate,” Julian explained. “A legally executed marriage will solve that problem.”
“Why do you want to marry me, Julian?”
“I’m an honorable man, Lara. My family thinks I’m too strict and too damn honorable, but ’tis the way I am. I dishonored you, though ’twas as much your fault as mine. Nevertheless, the moral code by which I conduct my life demands that I marry you.”
“So you’ve told me,” Lara returned dryly. “Honor is not enough to base a marriage upon. Deep in your heart you really don’t want to marry me. I understand that and accept it. I am still your Romany mate but I will not become your English countess. Now, what is it you wanted to tell me?”
Julian’s fingers plowed through his hair. “You’re the most exasperating woman I’ve ever met. Very well, we’ll drop the subject for the time being, though in the end I’ll have my way.”
Lara heaved an exasperated sigh. “Time will tell. What is it you wanted to say to me?”
“ ’Tis about our sleeping arrangements,” Julian began. “There’s no way I can keep my hands off you if we share the same bed. I’ll be returning to London soon, and I don’t know what the future holds for me. Until the Jackal is dealt with, my life is in danger. The Jackal has a number of thugs in his employ. He knows I’m close to exposing him and he’s desperate. He wants me dead, Lara, and he might succeed.”
“Does no one know the Jackal’s identity?”
“Only those close to him. I suspect Crockett knows.”
“You’ll be safe as long as you remain here,” Lara maintained.
“I intend to remain no longer than it takes to see you settled with your grandparents. I must return to London to continue my investigation and avenge Diana’s death.”
Lara’s heart sank. Diana, always Diana. “What’s Diana got to do with our sleeping arrangements?”
“Nothing, really. Except that I have no desire to leave you with a bastard in your belly.”
“Of course not,” Lara mocked. Oh, the pain. “That would be a tragedy.”
“A tragedy, aye. My first child was—”
“You have a child? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Julian went still. “I’m sorry. No one knows
that … that Diana carried my child when she died.”
“Oh, Julian, I’m the one who’s sorry. How devastating for you.”
“Devastating, aye. Sometimes I wonder what our child would have been like had he lived.”
A sob slipped past Lara’s lips. Then another. There was no hope for her, none at all. Julian was still obsessed with Diana and the child they had made together. He didn’t want a child of hers. A thought occurred to her and she spoke aloud her fears.
“What if we had married in London? Would you have wanted a child of ours then?”
Lara couldn’t see Julian’s expression in the darkness but she sensed his anger.
A small sound of surprise was wrung from her when he grasped her shoulders and dragged her roughly against him. “Little fool. What makes you think I wouldn’t welcome a child we made together? The timing is wrong, that’s all I’m saying. We aren’t married yet.”
He grew thoughtful. “ ’Tis odd how things turned out. I was fully prepared to accept that I would never have an heir, since I never intended to marry. Sinjun’s son was to be my heir. But when you and I marry there will be children,” he said fiercely.
But they will not be Diana’s children, Lara thought despondently.
“If I should die, I want my child to have legal proof of its legitimacy.”
“You won’t die, Julian,” Lara said passionately.
“I sincerely hope you’re right.”
“I may already be carrying your child.”
She heard him suck in a breath. “Do you think … bloody hell, why wasn’t I more careful?”
Her hand fluttered against his chest and settled there. She felt his heart thumping wildly against her palm. “I said ’tis possible, not that I know it to be a fact.”
A charged silence hung between them. Lara felt the unaccountable need to soothe his fears. “I can ask Ramona for a potion,” she offered.
“A … potion?”
“Aye, you know, to keep me from conceiving.”
“She can do that?”
“She’s done it for others.”
His voice held a note of dismay. “Don’t ask it of her. We will be married long before you conceive my child.”
“We are married, Drago,” she whispered, deliberately using his Gypsy name. “ ’Tis you who refuses to accept it.”
“Bloody hell, Lara, why are we at an impasse when we both want the same thing?”
“Perhaps we want the same thing in different ways, Julian. You want me in your bed and I … I want your … love.” There, she’d said it.
“Love!” Julian sputtered, as if the word were foreign to him. “I want you. I’ve never denied that. Mutual passion is a good basis for a marriage.”
“Did you love Diana?”
The quiet shattered around them as he spit out a curse. “Bloody hell! What is this, an inquisition? I can’t recall Diana ever being so needy. Diana and I were betrothed as children. She would have made me a perfect wife. Everything about her was perfect. We were alike in many ways. Background, religion, all the ways that counted.”
“What about passion?” Lara challenged.
He hesitated. “We shared a sweet passion.”
The moon suddenly appeared from behind a cloud, revealing the stark planes of Julian’s face. He was frowning, as if he were remembering something he didn’t want to recall.
“Sweet.” Her voice held a note of mockery. “The wild, abandoned passion we share is anything but sweet.”
He gave her a rough shake. “What are you trying to do? I cared deeply for Diana. Her death devastated me. So much so that I swore never to marry and sully her memory.”
“Yet you’re determined to marry me,” Lara reminded him.
“Honor …”
“The hell with honor!” Lara swore. She leaped to her feet. “I’m going back. You can sleep beneath the wagon tonight.”
“I care for you, Lara,” Julian admitted. “Does that count for nothing?”
“Less than nothing,” Lara flung over her shoulder. “Good night.” She stalked away.
Julian leaped to his feet and stumbled after her. “Do you refuse to share my bed?”
“I have no desire to sleep with you, Drago.” She glanced up at the lowering sky, noting that the moon had slipped behind a cloud. “It looks like rain. I hope you enjoy your damp bed beneath the wagon.”
Julian couldn’t stop the foolish smile that came unbidden. His wild Gypsy wench had returned with a vengeance. In all her splendid, defiant glory. Ferocious as the storm threatening to break, untamed as the Scottish moor upon which she had been born.
He wouldn’t change her for the world.
Chapter 13
Rain came down in buckets. Julian huddled beneath the wagon, teeth chattering, wondering why Lara had to be so bloody stubborn. If not for her temper and her need for an emotion that was a myth, they’d be snug in bed right now, with rain pounding on the roof instead of plaguing him. He was lying in a river of mud beneath the wagon and it was damn miserable.
The storm raged on unabated. The wetter Julian became, the angrier he grew. When a bolt of lightning struck a nearby tree, Julian jumped so high he bumped his head on the underside of the wagon.
“Enough is enough!” he shouted. His words were lost to the roar of the wind, but his decision had been made. He crawled out into the fury of the storm and made a dash for the door. The knob turned beneath his hand and he burst inside, dripping mud and water onto the floor.
“Julian! What are you doing?” Lara cried, reaching over to light a lamp.
“Not sleeping beneath the wagon,” he growled. “In case you haven’t noticed, ’tis pouring rain out there. I refuse to sleep in a sea of mud.”
“You’re dripping all over the floor.”
Julian sent her an aggrieved look and began tearing off his clothes. When he had rendered himself completely naked, he calmly gathered up his wet clothes and tossed them out the door. Then he reached for a towel that lay on the bench and dried himself.
“Move over,” he commanded as the mattress dented beneath his weight.
“I’m not sleeping with you, Julian,” Lara insisted.
“Then you go outside in that storm. I’m sleeping in this bed with or without you.”
A bolt of lightning followed by a crack of thunder sent Lara scooting over to make room for Julian. Shivering uncontrollably, Julian ducked beneath the covers and pulled them up to his chin.
“Your teeth are chattering,” Lara said, sounding slightly remorseful. “I really didn’t think it was going to storm like this.”
“Show me how sorry you are,” Julian said, reaching for her. “Warm me. I need your body heat.”
He pulled her against him, grinning when he heard her gasp. “You’re icy cold!”
“Tell me something I don’t know, sweeting. I’ll forgive you for trying to freeze and drown me if you put your arms around me and share your body heat.”
“I don’t need your forgiveness,” Lara argued. “I never meant for you to freeze to death.” Nevertheless, she flung her arms around him, shivering as his cold flesh clung to her warmth. “But I still won’t forgive you for … for …”
“For what, sweeting?”
“Never mind, you wouldn’t understand.”
“Are you still angry over that little argument we had earlier? I shouldn’t have mentioned Diana again.”
“I’m glad you did. Now I know exactly where I stand in your affections.”
“Forget about emotions and concentrate on what we do have together. What about this?”
His lips touched her neck, nibbling at her flesh, trailing kisses up the line of her jaw, across her cheek, until he found her mouth. “Or this.” He kissed her, hard, filling his senses with her taste, her scent, the very essence of her.
Why did Lara want to complicate matters with all this talk about love? he wondered dimly. Why couldn’t she just enjoy what they had together?
Despite the c
oolness of his flesh, heat coursed through Lara as Julian showered kisses upon her. She gazed up into his midnight blue eyes and surrendered to the hot, sweet melding of lips and tongues. She knew she shouldn’t yield so easily but this was the man she loved, the only man she’d ever love.
Sighing with pleasure, Lara ran her hands down his back, reveling in the play of corded muscles beneath the taut satin of his skin. She didn’t even whimper a protest when Julian raised himself above her and lowered his body over hers.
“Isn’t this better?” he whispered against her lips. “You sure know how to warm a man, sweeting.”
He rubbed his chest against her breasts. Heat surged through her; her nipples budded against the hard wall of his chest. She heard him groan and felt his sex prod the crevice between her legs.
“This is what I didn’t want to happen tonight, Julian,” Lara said raggedly. “You’re difficult to resist.”
“Don’t try,” Julian answered as he eased back on his haunches and stared at her.
“What are you looking at?”
“You. You’re so bloody beautiful.”
He filled his hands with her breasts, moving them in a slow, expert design of arousal, palming their fullness, teasing her nipples to diamond-hard points. She arched against him just as he leaned forward, pressing his belly against hers as he licked her breasts and sucked a turgid nipple into his mouth, tonguing it into painful arousal.
Heat consumed her. Torturous tremors of need racked her. Her fingers twined in his hair, holding him against her as he suckled her.
“Julian! I …”
As if he knew what she needed, he moved between her thighs and shoved them wide with his knees. Then his fingers parted her, massaged the center of her desire, slipped inside her. She cried out, wanting him, needing him.
“Julian! Please!”
He reared up, his body looming over her, his nostrils flaring as he exhaled her name on a strident whisper. “Aye, love, now.”
He slipped his hands beneath her buttocks, lifting her against his hot, engorged tip. “Here I am, Lara, take me inside you. Take all of me.”
