The Gypsy Bride

by Sandra Madden

  The compassion in his mother’s eyes and tone soothed him. He’d been in turmoil ever since leaving Henrietta. He feared all the old traits would soon claim him again. He had been sullen and angry, resenting the responsibilities of keeping his father’s tribe safe, but determined to do his duty. Henrietta had unlocked the man he used to be, the man he wanted to be once more.

  His mother’s advice tore at him. She was wise, but she was not a man. She did not understand a man’s duty.

  “Lucien?”

  “Yes, mother.”

  “Sit down. We have much to discuss.”

  ****

  “Leaving you is exceedingly difficult, Mila.” More than Henrietta had ever anticipated. “And you, Jassy. How I will miss you both!”

  The threesome stood on the bustling dock at Liverpool. Henrietta held fast to the hands of Jassy and Mila. If only Lucien was here as well!

  Behind them, eager passengers boarded The Abigail, the imposing Black Ball sailing vessel that would take Henrietta to North America and to Cousin Phillip. She had not thought of him in ever so long.

  “Aye, we will miss you, girlie. ’Twill be a dull caravan without you.”

  “I do regret the trouble I have caused. I am dreadfully sorry.”

  “You gave Mila and me something to talk with each other about.” Jassy assured her. “I think the old woman likes me now.”

  “I think she does too,” Henrietta said with a knowing smile.

  The knowledge that Mila and Jassy would go on together as a couple sharing the joys and hardships of the caravan as it made its way back and forth across the county, made her heart warm.

  “All your troubles have not been for nothing, girlie.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Yer about to set sail for an unknown land, not knowing what you’ll find.”

  “Yes,” she nodded, waiting for Mila to make her point.

  “And where’s yer hiccupping?” the old woman asked at last.

  “Good gracious!” It was true. She hadn’t hiccupped once.

  “Aye! “Mila cackled.

  “It is not that I make the crossing without apprehension, but I—”

  “But you know your strength now,” the Gypsy woman finished for her.

  “I do. I do,” Henrietta repeated emphatically. “And I shall always be grateful to you.”

  But how she yearned for Lucien. How she wished he stood at her side.

  “Aye, aye,” Mila muttered, gently pushing Henrietta toward the ship. “ ’Tis time for you to board.”

  Again, Henrietta found herself struggling against tears. Her gaze flickered to the dock, hoping to see Lucien, knowing she would not. Her heart thumped heavily against her chest. “I know.”

  “Great adventure awaits you in the colonies.”

  “Yes, great adventure,” she agreed quietly. “I shall be no different from any other woman in North America. No one will ever address me again as Lady Hadley. I will simply be Henrietta.”

  Alone. Without Lucien.

  “Aye, and do not forget to take your tonic nightly, Henrietta.”

  “I promise,” she grinned. “And I shall write to you both.”

  “Girlie, we cannot read.”

  “Lucien or Steffan will read my letters to you.”

  “Aye.”

  With gentle guidance, and a bit of pushing by Mila, Henrietta had reached the gangplank. A rapid series of bells rang from the ship, an urgent clanking sound.

  “The bells are calling you to board,” Jassy pointed out.

  She bit down on her lip but the pain did not affect the building tears.

  Mila rolled her eyes. “Go, girlie.”

  Henrietta embraced her silver-ringed mentor, holding her tightly, blinking back tears. Mila would scold her for crying.

  “Enough! Get aboard and take that ugly cat with you.”

  Henrietta bent to pick up the basket where the world’s ugliest cat slept. “Are you certain? You do not mind parting with Mercury?”

  Mila shook her head. “He is too homely for my taste.”

  “Thank you. I shall take good care of him.”

  “And he shall take care of you. No stranger will come near ye without a fuss from Mercury.”

  Henrietta had not the heart to tell Mila that while many dogs guarded their masters, there was no such thing as a watch cat Instead, she stepped onto the gangplank and turned for one last look.

  “Do not forget to take your tonic, girlie.”

  “I do not understand. You have always been so adamant. What purpose does this tonic serve?”

  “It makes you fertile!”

  With a gasp, a laugh, and after one last hurried embrace, Henrietta made her way up the steep gangplank. She did not dare look back. Her future now lay ahead.

  Last night she had dreamed Lucien appeared on the dock just before the ship sailed and begged her to stay. It was a foolish dream. Henrietta would have been content to live in Wales, as his mother had done, but only if he had declared his love for her and willingly made her his wife.

  But he would marry Sabina one day. Henrietta did not doubt that he and Steffan would contrive to wear the princess down in order to do what was best for their father’s people.

  Instead of standing at the ship’s rail for the departure, she hurried to her cabin. Although confident she was taking the best course, she could not bear watching her homeland slip away by degrees. She could not bear the pain of leaving England, Mila and Jassy ... Lucien.

  She busied herself unpacking her few belongings before she took to her narrow berth. But then she unleashed all the tears she’d held back in the past few days. Mercury jumped into her lap and resumed his nap when her sobs lessened and her tears dried.

  Listening to the groans and creaks of the ship, the cries of the crew, Henrietta knew when The Abigail finally left port. She felt the rocking motion as it set full sail on the open sea.

  And then she heard a sound she did not expect; a rap on the cabin door. Mercury jumped from her lap and crossed to the door. He sniffed and returned to her.

  So much for a warning of danger from a cat, Henrietta thought. She opened the door a crack.

  Her heart stopped.

  “Lucien?”

  He grinned, a heart-pulsating, room-spinning grin.

  “Lucien!” A blinding, all-encompassing happiness swept through Henrietta.

  Her body bubbled with a joy too deep and too broad for words to express. Within, without, she glowed like the golden sun. She felt as if she had just been given the brightest star in the sky, the sweetest blossom in the meadow. The jewels of the earth were hers and they shone in Lucien’s eyes.

  “I have decided to escort you to North America, milady. With your penchant for trouble, I would not rest knowing you voyaged alone.”

  “Oh, Lucien!” Henrietta flung herself into his arms. His lips, hot and tender, smothered hers as he gathered her tightly against him.

  When she was certain he was real and not merely a mirage, she drew him into the cabin. “I do not understand. Tell me what has happened!”

  “Mila and Jassy will carry my written arrangements to York with them.”

  “What sort of arrangements?”

  “I have asked the tribe to make Steffan their leader. And I have enriched the covenant by contributing my bride’s prize to Sabina’s tribe.”

  “You gave up Bay and Ursa?”

  “A small price to be with the woman I love.” His dark, shining eyes met hers. “I do love you, Henrietta. More than you will ever know.”

  Her heart leaped into her throat. “Lucien ...”

  “I plan to stay in North America. My mother has suggested I build an enterprise there. She believes a great many horses will be needed as the country expands, and she wishes to be my silent partner in the horse breeding business.”

  “Oh, Lucien!”

  “But I shall need a wife.”

  “A wife?”

  “Will you marry me, Lady Hadley?�
��

  Henrietta was struck speechless.

  “Do you know how much I adore you? Do you understand that I fell in love with you the first time I saw you, dressed in boys’ clothing, with a smudge on your face ... hiccupping in the bushes?”

  Her mind spun so rapidly, she could not form words. He loved her?

  “I feared giving my heart again but you showed me that I’d never truly loved before ... before you.”

  He loved her!

  “Lucien—” Her voice broke but her heart thrummed wildly.

  He mistook her inability to speak. “Would you be convinced if a former king fell to his knees?” Without waiting for her reply, he fell to his knees, clasping her hand in his. “Marry me, my lady ... my love.”

  “I will ...” Henrietta fell to her knees opposite him. “And you shall always be king. King of my heart.”

  Locked in each other’s arms, they fell to the floor together.

  The following evening, the captain of the ship agreed to perform a simple marriage ceremony. Standing hand in hand on the fore deck of The Abigail, beneath a canopy of twinkling stars, Lucien and Henrietta became man and wife.

  Immediately afterward, Lucien escorted his wife to their cabin for an intimate celebration. He had ordered the finest wine, but after his first toast, Henrietta wiggled from his arms.

  She took up a tambourine and banged it slowly. “May I dance for you now, Lucien?”

  He knew she’d been eager to dance for weeks. Although he ached with joy and the desire to take Henrietta into his arms and fly with her to new heights of ecstasy, he responded with loving patience. “Yes, my love.”

  She began by humming a haunting Gypsy melody. Her body arched and swayed, her hips undulated in a slow seductive circle around and around.

  Her luminous blue eyes fixed on his, a sensual half smile played at the corner of her lips.

  Lucien watched transfixed. While her body swayed to the provocative beat of her song, she pulled the pins from her hair until the shining mass tumbled to her shoulders. As she danced by him, he inhaled the heady rose scent that was hers alone. She waved her arms above her head with the elegance and grace of a prima ballerina.

  He could not drag his eyes from her. By infinitesimal degrees she lowered the sleeves of her dress until her shoulders were bare. Her breasts blossomed above the rounded neckline of her dress as creamy and delectable as the first fruit of spring.

  He began to salivate. She dropped her tambourine.

  Still humming, her body continued to gyrate in titillating slow motion while she unhooked the back of her dress. She peeled it over her breasts, down her waist, around her hips.

  He was on fire.

  Henrietta stepped out of her dress, retrieved it and tossed it to him.

  Lucien had never seen a woman look as wanton as Henrietta did, barefoot in nothing but her chemise, hips ever swinging, breasts pert and proud straining against the fabric of her chemise.

  Both her humming and the dance picked up in pace. She twirled in the small cabin, exposing ankles and calves and extraordinary womanly curves.

  His throat felt parched. His heart was beating faster than a signalman’s drum. He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath.

  And then he felt something land at his feet Lucien opened his eyes. It was his wife’s chemise.

  Henrietta twirled about the room, naked as the day she was born. No English Gypsy had ever danced this way.

  Lucien could not breathe. Mesmerized, he followed his wife’s whirling steps to the small table. She picked up a blue bottle and danced with it to the berth.

  “What is that you are drinking, my love?”

  She smiled—a bright, deep dimpled, captivating smile.

  “Merely a tonic Mila made for me.” She held out her arms. “Come to bed, my king.”

  Copyright © 2000 by Sandra Madden

  Originally published by Zebra Precious Gem [0821770470]

  Electronically published in 2010 by Belgrave House

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  This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.