Gypsy Magic

by Barbara Cartland

  “The next dance is ours, Princess Laetitia!” he said.

  Laetitia did not hesitate.

  She had already promised it to somebody else, but she could not refuse the King.

  In fact she had no wish to do so. She longed to be close to him once again because every moment of the evening she had been vividly aware of him. Equally she knew it was dangerous.

  She was almost certain that he would not recognise her with her dark hair in ringlets on either side of her face and her only ornamentation three white roses at the back of her head.

  But there was always the possibility that he would remember her voice, her eyes or perhaps and it made her quiver to think about it – her lips.

  Laetitia’s partner bowed to her and said,

  “Thank you, Princess, for a delightful dance.”

  He moved away and the King, taking Laetitia’s hand in his, drew her out through the window and into the garden.

  There were just two steps from the marble terrace outside onto the soft grass.

  When they reached it, the King, without speaking, moved away from the lights of the Palace and passed the flower-filled beds and blossoming shrubs until they reached a small fountain in what was known as the ‘Herb Garden’.

  Here there were no lights, but there was no need for them.

  The stars which had shone above them last night and the moon which had lit The Castle made everything gleam mysteriously silver.

  There was a seat just beyond the fountain and when they reached it the King, still holding Laetitia’s hand, drew her down beside him.

  Still without saying anything, he pulled the lace mitten she was wearing, instead of white kid gloves, from her hand.

  She did not protest, she said nothing, for the simple reason that the mere fact that the King was touching her made her quiver with the same excitement he had evoked in her last night.

  She also felt, although she tried to suppress it, the fire that had come from his lips sweeping again through her body and burning wildly within her breasts.

  When her hand was free, he turned it palm upwards and in the moonlight the little mark on her wrist that the Voivode had made with his jewelled knife showed dark against the whiteness of her skin.

  The King looked at it for a long moment.

  Then he asked,

  “How could you have disappeared in that infuriating manner? How could you have left me when you knew that you belonged to me and had become my wife?”

  “I-I did not – think that – you recognised me,” Laetitia murmured.

  The King smiled.

  “I was aware that you were somewhere in the room the moment I entered it!”

  “How – could you – know that?”

  “Have you forgotten that, like you, I have gypsy blood in my veins?” the King asked. “And even if you were not part of the magic which placed us both under a spell, I can still use my intuition and my perception better than ordinary men.”

  “Did you – think last night– that I had not gone away with the – tribe?”

  The King smiled again.

  “I was sure of it. In fact after you had left so unaccountably I had first to convince myself that you were not an illusion like the bird in the tree or the doves that came from nowhere!”

  He gave a little laugh and went on,

  “I reasoned it out logically that there must be some good explanation not only for your disappearance but also for your insistence on my fidelity.”

  He paused and now looking at him incredulously Laetitia asked,

  “Did you – really think of that?”

  “I am not completely half-witted,” the King replied, “and, as I have been argued with, pleaded with and almost compelled to come to Ovenstadt to propose marriage to the Grand Duke’s daughter, I can think of only one reason why anybody should try to prevent me from doing so.”

  “What did you – think that – reason could be?”

  “That the Princess Stephanie does not wish to marry me!”

  Laetitia gave a little cry.

  “That is clever of you – very clever!”

  “At the same time,” the King went on, “only somebody very close to her could have known her feelings in the matter and I had in fact heard, even in Zvotana, that Prince Paul’s elder daughter was not only exquisitely beautiful, but resembled my great-grandmother – whose name was Saviya!”

  Laetitia clasped her hands together.

  “So you – knew who I – was!”

  “Not at first,” the King admitted. “I merely thought the Gods had been very kind in relieving what would undoubtedly have been a very dull evening at Thor Castle.”

  The way he spoke made the colour come into Laetitia’s cheeks.

  “Were you – shocked?” she asked in a whisper.

  “No, intrigued,” the King replied. “But later, with the wine, the magic and the inexpressible feelings we aroused in each other, I think we both became a little mad and I knew that I must have shocked you! So you did the only thing you could do in leaving me.”

  Because it had hurt her and been such agony to do so, Laetitia’s hand, which he still held in his, tightened.

  As if he understood all that she had suffered, the King bent his head and kissed the tiny scar on her wrist.

  “Now, Laetitia Saviya,” he said, “what are we going to do about us?”

  “What – do you – mean?” Laetitia asked nervously.

  “The Voivode gave us the magic of love and made you my wife,” the King said softly.

  “For five days – !”

  “Or, if we choose, for five years or fifty-five or perhaps five centuries!”

  Laetitia trembled as she asked,

  “W-what are you – saying?”

  “I am saying that you are mine,” the King replied, “my wife! Although we may have to be married again to please my people and yours, we are married by the gypsy laws in which we both believe.”

  “No – no!” Laetitia cried. “It would be – impossible!”

  “Why should it be impossible?”

  “Because I will – never be – allowed to – marry you – even if you – wanted me to – do so.”

  “If I wanted to do so?” the King repeated. “You know what I want without my having to put it into words, Laetitia. We belong to each other.”

  “It’s – impossible – you cannot be – sure!” Laetitia mumbled incoherently.

  She looked away from him as she spoke and the King put out his hand and taking her chin between his fingers turned her face round to his.

  “Look at me!” he ordered.

  She tried not to obey him, but, because he was touching her and because she felt her whole body vibrating towards his, she could only look up into his face.

  Then she felt as if the stars overhead haloed him so that he was enveloped in a strange light that came also from within himself.

  She felt her heart leap from her body to join him and the fire which he had aroused within her last night burning through her again as she knew that it was burning in him.

  At the same time there was music which rose towards the stars not from gypsy violins, but from a melody of wonder and glory within themselves.

  The King looked at her for a long moment before he said,

  “Now tell me the truth – what do you feel about me?”

  “I love – you!” Laetitia whispered. “I love you – desperately – but – I would not be – allowed to – marry you.”

  “How can you be sure of that?”

  Because of the sensations that were making her whole body quiver and she could hardly breathe, Laetitia could not find words to explain.

  All she wanted to do was to move nearer to the King, to feel his arms around her, his lips on hers and know that she need think of nothing and nobody but him.

  Then, as she stared at him, spellbound to the point where her mind seemed to have gone and all she was conscious of was the painful beating of her heart, somebody in t
he garden laughed.

  The sound came from some distance away, but it was as if she was jerked back to reality by a slap on the face.

  The King released her and Laetitia turned away from him.

  “You – you would not – understand,” she said dully, “but, because the Grand Duchess – hates us all, including my – mother, she would never – allow the Grand Duke to give his – permission for us to be – married.”

  “How can you be sure of that?” the King asked again.

  “Why do you think we were not invited – to the luncheon or the dinner which was given for you? We were also told emphatically that we would not be – presented to – you at the – ball.”

  The King frowned.

  “It seems incredible, when your father was so popular and was a first cousin of the Grand Duke.”

  “I know,” Laetitia agreed, “but the Grand Duchess is Prussian – and she always – gets her own – way.”

  “Not with me!” the King said firmly.

  “She may not be able to compel you to propose to Stephanie, but she would never in a thousand years – allow me to marry you.”

  “Then we will have to think of a way of circumventing her, for I have already given my word as a gypsy that I will be faithful to you. In any case I have to be married!”

  “Why?” Laetitia asked. “For a – Roman Circus?”

  The King laughed.

  “A very apt description of it, but also, far more important, now that I have met you, I not only want to be married but I want my children to be partly gypsy, as we are.”

  He smiled before he added softly,

  “I hope that they will find the magic that we have found and the love which is more important than anything else in life.”

  Laetitia turned once again to look at him.

  “You – really believe – that?”

  “Do you think I am lying? What does your instinct tell you?”

  “That you are – speaking the – truth.”

  “Then listen to me,” the King said. “It may not be possible while I am here, for I am leaving tomorrow after I have received the Freedom of the City. But somehow, in some way, I shall make you my wife publicly as you are already secretly.”

  His voice deepened as he finished,

  “It may take a little time, but you will have to trust me.”

  Laetitia drew in her breath.

  “If it could – really happen – it would be the most wonderful – perfect thing that could ever happen – but I feel it is only a – dream.”

  “Then dream that we will be together, as we were last night! Last night when the magic happened, it seemed unreal and, after you had left me, I thought for one incredible moment I had been dreaming, but knew when I saw you this evening that my dream had come true.”

  The emotional note in his voice seemed to Laetitia like the love song the gypsies had played as they left the plateau to walk back to The Castle together.

  The King bent his head and once again kissed the tiny scar on her wrist.

  “That shows you belong to me,” he said, “and there will be no need in the future, Laetitia, for marks or scars, because our hearts are one. When I kissed you, you gave me not only your lips and your heart, but also your soul.”

  “That is – what I – felt,” Laetitia murmured, “and I knew – last night and today when I thought about – you that I could never – love anybody else or marry – another man.”

  “You are mine!” the King insisted fiercely. “And I would kill any man who touched you!”

  The violence with which he spoke made her feel that it was impossible not to move towards him and not to raise her lips to his.

  Then, because there were people near them, the King held himself in an iron control and drew Laetitia to her feet.

  “I must take you back to the ballroom,” he said, “otherwise they will all be talking.”

  “The Grand Duchess will be – very angry!” Laetitia muttered.

  “Don’t be afraid,” the King said. “I know, again with the instinct of a gypsy, that nothing and nobody in the world can stop us or prevent us from being as the Gods ordained, not two people but one.”

  He gave a short laugh as he continued,

  “If you don’t trust me, my beautiful one, trust the Gods. I can assure you that they are very much more powerful than one tiresome, bossy Prussian woman!”

  Because the way he spoke was such a contrast to what he had said before Laetitia found herself laughing.

  Then, as their feet carried them back towards the lighted windows of the ballroom, she knew that there was a flame of hope burning irresistibly within her heart.

  Chapter Seven

  Laetitia went home thinking that the King had taken the stars from the sky to put them in her hands and it was impossible to concentrate on anything else.

  Although she knew when she said goodnight to the Grand Duchess and saw the expression of fury in her eyes that she would pay for her happiness when the King had left, it seemed so far away that she was not troubled.

  Because their house was so near, they walked back to it through the garden, although, as their mother had said, on such an auspicious occasion they should at least have arrived at the Palace in a carriage.

  “As we have no carriage, Mama,” Marie-Henriette had remarked laughing, “that would be rather difficult.”

  Then there was a little silence while both the girls were thinking that, if the Grand Duchess behaved properly, she would send one from the Palace to collect them.

  But, as they left by the front door with the servants bowing respectfully, Laetitia was too happy to notice that they were the only guests who had to walk.

  But Marie-Henriette, slipping her hand into Princess Olga’s said,

  “Now Cinderella, and that applies, Mama, to all three of us, must go back to the kitchen to sit among the ashes!”

  Princess Olga laughed, but it was obviously rather an effort and only when they were inside their own little house did she say to Laetitia,

  “I can understand, darling, that you found King Viktor fascinating, but I am afraid we may all suffer because you were so long in the garden with him.”

  With an effort Laetitia forced herself to listen to what her mother was saying.

  “What do you mean, Mama?”

  “Cousin Augustina was so angry that she said to me, ‘your daughter is behaving disgracefully and make no mistake, Olga, I shall take steps to ensure that this sort of thing never happens again.’”

  There was silence.

  Then Marie-Henriette asked,

  “Do you mean that she is planning to send us away from here or exile us from Ovenstadt?”

  “I don’t think she will go as far as that,” Princess Olga replied, “but she may certainly deprive us of this house and, although I should not tell you so – I am frightened.”

  Because it was so unlike her mother to speak in such a way, Laetitia flung her arms around her.

  “Oh, Mama, I am so sorry!” she said. “I know I behaved indiscreetly with the King, but it was hard to resist him.”

  “I can understand that, my dearest,” Princess Olga answered. “At the same time he will go back to Zvotana and forget us, but we are left with Cousin Augustina.”

  Laetitia considered for a moment telling her mother what the King was planning.

  Then because it meant so much to her personally and, because she did not wish her mother to know how she had first met him, she could not think how she could explain it.

  Instead she said after a moment,

  “I don’t believe, Mama, that things will be as bad as you anticipate. I have had a very strong feeling lately that Papa is looking after us and, if anybody could stand up to Cousin Augustina, it would be he!”

  She knew as she spoke that she had said exactly the right thing.

  “You are right, my dear,” her mother replied. “Of course Papa will look after us whatever happens and it was very feeble of me not to
remember that.”

  “I hate Cousin Augustina!” Marie-Henriette exploded violently. “She makes our lives a misery and spoils everything. I could see she disapproved because that nice young Prince Ivor of Saxony danced with me three times.”

  The Princess’s attention was diverted from Laetitia.

  “I am glad you liked Ivor,” she said. “I used to see a lot of his parents when your father was alive and they were both charming.”

  “I think he will be coming to see – me next week,” Marie-Henriette said shyly.

  She blushed as she spoke, then, as if she did not wish to say any more, she kissed her mother and Laetitia and ran from the room.

  “Please don’t be too worried, Mama,” Laetitia begged. “I have a very strong instinct, which, of course, comes from my gypsy blood, that happiness is waiting for us all just around the corner.”

  Her mother laughed.

  “You have cheered me up, darling, and I shall only think of all the nice things that have happened tonight and forget Cousin Augustina.”

  They went up the stairs together, but, when Laetitia went into her own room, she wondered if she was perhaps being optimistic and raising false hopes in her mother as well as in herself.

  Then everything the King had said to her and the thrills which had run through her body when he kissed the scar on her wrist, made her feel once again as if her love filled the whole world.

  She had expected to stay awake worrying, but instead she awoke still feeling happy and lay looking at the sun coming into her room in a golden streak from each side of the curtains.

  Then, as she felt the little scar throbbing on her wrist and the King’s lips warm and insistent upon it, the door swung open and Marie-Henriette rushed into the room.

  “Get up, Laetitia!” she cried. “And hurry! It’s so exciting!”

  “What has happened?” Laetitia asked sitting up in bed.

  “Mama says it is because the King has not proposed to Stephanie that she is to drive to the Civic Hall in another carriage with Mama and we are to go with her!”

  Laetitia felt her heart leap with excitement.

  The King had not proposed to Stephanie and now, although he was leaving today, she would see him again.

  It was also unheard of since their father had died for them to be included in any of the official processions or receptions for any visiting dignitaries.