“No, I can’t turn my back on my responsibilities, but I can work here at night and on the weekends. I’ve already moved my things into a trailer that your father said wasn’t being used. For now, I’m going to commute to Atlanta.”
“I don’t want you working here. I won’t hire you.”
“Too late, Gypsy, your father already has.”
“But I want you—”
“I know,” he interrupted, using a grin to break the tension, “but, like I said, I’m going to back off. You’re going to have to stop lusting after my body and let me get back to work.”
“Lusting after your body?”
“There’s something basic about shoveling manure, don’t you think?” he went on in a normal tone of voice. “Niko says it’s good for my masculinity. It makes things grow.”
Savannah gasped. The man was flirting with her. She could have said that if Judge Horatio Webber grew any more, his clothes wouldn’t be able to conceal the parts of him she’d come to know so intimately, but she didn’t.
“I thought you’d like that idea, darling.” He smiled and turned back to his shovel.
“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, Crusader, but that isn’t the kind of talk the public expects from a gubernatorial candidate. And I don’t think this circus needs another clown.”
“Oh, I’m not joking. This is a serious discussion about growth. Growth is change, and change is good for the soul. If I intend to be a good governor, I want to get back to basics, answer the needs of all the people. That’s growth and change.”
“Rasch, I don’t think a lot of circus people vote. What makes you think the public will even consider a man who moonlights in the circus?”
“I think they’ll like a man of the people. If not, I can always find a job with a shovel. There’s a lot of manure in the world, Savannah, and I’m a man who doesn’t back down from a mission. You ought to know that.”
Rasch was here, in her circus, performing Tifton’s chores. Savannah left immediately, taking Niko and a small troupe of performers to the orphanage, leaving Rasch and Alfred Ramey behind. While they were gone, Rasch and Alfred inventoried the circus, discarding equipment and costumes that were hopelessly worn out, and concentrating on refurbishing the remainder. Under Horatio’s quiet guidance, Alfred began to oversee the operation of the circus for the first time since Tifton’s death.
On her return, Savannah found herself without her usual job, so she began spending more and more of her time on the high wire, creating an aerial act with Niko, who had been in their original act before Tifton became the star and changed the focus of the act from flying to walking the wire. Tifton never wanted to catch; there was no glory there. By walking the wire, he could show his body to its best advantage.
Trying to work out a routine that was complex enough to entertain their audiences, Savannah began to combine her aerial act with their flying. Niko caught her when she flew through the air, and worked at her side as she walked the wire alone. She added flaming batons to her act, balancing on the wire as the fire twirled high over the spectators. The two functions merged, and a new act was born—not an especially spectacular one, but for now it was enough for the Flying Gypsies to be flying again.
The two-day engagement at the children’s home had brought in enough money to repair the costumes and buy food for the troupe. Gradually word spread about the resurgence of the Ramey Circus, and former employees began to appear again, asking for their old jobs back.
Every day Judge Horatio Webber, dressed in a three-piece suit, left the grounds and reported to the courthouse. Once he left, Savannah’s breathing returned to normal, and she took a long nap to compensate for the sleep she wasn’t getting at night. Rasch made up for his lack of rest by napping at lunchtime and for an hour after court before he returned to the circus. Then, returning to his trailer, he stripped down to jeans and a sweatshirt and reported to Alfred Ramey for his next assignment.
The judge was pleasant and worked hard, speaking to Savannah, sharing little stories about his day, but nothing more. He joined her for meals in the cook tent and walked her to her trailer, then retired to his. While he didn’t actually avoid Savannah, he made no attempt to be alone with her. She didn’t know whether that was good or not. She only knew that she was very quietly going crazy.
New bookings were coming in for spring. Savannah scheduled the small-town fairs and shopping centers and passed on their good fortune to her father. But she could tell that his interest in the circus was waning. Alfred’s heart wasn’t in talking about where they’d go in the spring. More and more often she’d find Rasch overseeing the work, and Zeena and her father with their heads together, studying travel brochures and whispering about the past.
Rasch had been living on the grounds for two weeks, and their few conversations had been both brief and casual. Savannah watched him exercising the animals from her trailer. He still looked like a yuppie, but his hair was longer now, and the physical exercise had added a sleek, dangerous look to a body that continued to set Savannah on fire when she came into his vicinity.
She had to concede that Horatio Webber was good with the animals. He told them jokes, bad jokes, but Savannah heard and went around with her lips curved in a smile. He’d be good with children too. Savannah shook off that thought. Why on earth would she care about his rapport with children? He was learning to be a circus man. But his coloring didn’t reflect the swarthy look of the Gypsies of old; he was more like the lusty blond animal trainers so popular in the big circuses. He didn’t wear the glittery skintight costumes, and he carried a bucket instead of a whip, but she knew that the animals respected him. The members of the troupe respected him too. Even her father seemed to have forgotten that he’d once sworn to kill the man responsible for Tifton’s death.
Savannah gave a little moan and pushed open her trailer door. She was wearing her practice clothes, a threadbare costume that had been retired from use. She poked her feet into the mules that protected her soft ballet slippers from the ground and strode to the tent. Every night she rehearsed alone until long after everyone else had retired for the evening. Only then could she work herself into a state of exhaustion to sleep.
Tonight the tension was worse than ever. She had a headache that intensified with every step she took toward the circus tent. Even when she was inside the tent, the tension didn’t go away. She knew that Rasch was there, somewhere, watching. She left her mules on the sawdust-covered floor, found the bottom rung in the ladder, and began to climb.
“Gypsy? Could we talk for a minute before you begin?”
Savannah paused, the ladder swinging while she hesitated. Then it stopped. Rasch was there, holding it steady; he wasn’t touching her, and yet she felt him as if they were pressed together like two magnets.
“What about?”
“Come down, Savannah. I like the view, but I can’t talk while your tush is suspended in midair above me.”
“Why don’t you come up here with me?”
“I’m good with a shovel, Gypsy, but up there I’d be completely out of my element. I’m not sure that I could make any sense.”
“Fine, then we’ll match. Take off your shoes and join me. You want to live in my world, get to know the real me; here’s where we begin.”
Rasch groaned. Rationally he knew that there was a safety net beneath them; if he fell, he wouldn’t be hurt. But emotionally he was already strung tighter than that high wire Savannah performed on, and he was afraid he’d snap.
She’d issued the challenge confident that he wouldn’t accept.
She was wrong.
Rasch thought a moment. He had to do something to break through the wall of indifference she’d built around her. He smiled, unfastened his sneakers, and slid his jeans down his legs. He caught the swinging rope ladder in his hands, closed his eyes, and began to climb, quickly, before he lost his nerve. By the time Savannah reached the platform, Rasch was touching her feet with his hands. She pulled up, catching the bar to st
eady herself, and turned back to give Rasch a hand. He didn’t need one. She couldn’t hold back a gasp of surprise.
“Rasch, where are your clothes?”
“I left them down there.”
“But you’re practically naked! I mean, you’re wearing only your underwear.”
“I got your attention, didn’t I?—just as you did when you appeared on my balcony.”
“But that’s unfair. How do you expect me to concentrate?”
Rasch let his gaze drift up her legs, pausing at the apex of her thighs and upward to her breasts. “I don’t. Is this what you wore that night?”
“What do you want to talk about, Crusader?”
“Us. Jake thinks I’m moving too slow here.”
“What does Jake have to do with this?”
Savannah reached back to get a better grip on the bar. Her movement made the platform sway, and Rasch grabbed for the bar, catching her between his hands. It was purely an instinctive reaction, she told herself. He wasn’t making a move on her. He simply thought he was going to fall and reached out to steady himself. It wasn’t his fault that she was between him and the bar he was clutching. She was in his arms, and he was instantly hard, pressing against the soft part of her stomach, his body over-riding directions from his mind.
They connected, aware of what was happening but unable to stop the inevitable. “Oh, hell, Gypsy, I didn’t mean to do this. I mean I don’t—I won’t—ah, hell!”
He hadn’t meant to kiss her, but he couldn’t stop his lips from taking what was offered.
She didn’t mean to let him, but her arms were around his neck and she was holding him as if she were falling and he was her lifeline.
“Is this what you wanted, Crusader?” Her voice sounded as though it came from far away.
“No, I mean yes, this is what I wanted, but it isn’t what I came for.”
“It isn’t?” Her mouth found his again, his kiss filling her with gentle joy. “Why did you come to the tent?”
“I wanted to invite you to a party.”
“A party?” Her hands were around his body, tracing the strong muscles in his back.
“Yes, you know, a date. I spoke to your father. I think we’ve gotten past the getting-to-know-you stage. Your father gave me permission to—to—court you. Now I’m asking for a date.”
“A date? To court me?” Savannah’s head was swimming. One hundred feet in the air she was practically making love to the man who’d turned her life upside down. And now he was telling her that he had her father’s permission to court her. “Why?”
“I’ve tried for weeks to show you that I could fit into your world. Now I want to show you that you can fit into mine. That’s the right thing to do, Savannah. Jake convinced me that I owed it to us to bring you to his party.”
She pulled away, trying to make sense out of what was happening. “Taking me to a party is Jake’s idea? I think what Jake is trying to do is show you that I won’t fit into your world.”
“Are you going to let him?”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it, and I can’t think when we’re touching. You know that.”
“Fine, let’s forget the thinking until later. The party isn’t until this weekend. Right now the touching seems much more agreeable.”
He’d grown bold, releasing the bar and planting his hands on her body for support. Little did he know that her legs had turned to cotton candy. Her arms rebelled against her will as she pulled him closer, claiming his lips again.
When Rasch finally pulled away, all his resolve to wait for her to come to him was gone. “Gypsy, Gypsy,” he cajoled her, “come to my trailer. I want to touch your breasts, smell the tea olive blossoms, taste your skin. Please let me make love to you.”
She jerked away, trying to sever the connection between them so that she could corral her frenzied emotions. “Make love to me in your trailer?” A cold shaft of air danced up her back. What was she doing? Every time he touched her, she melted. “No, stop it. You promised—” And then it happened.
Rasch lost his balance, and in trying to reach the bar, fell against Savannah. She teetered wildly for a moment, then toppled backward from the platform.
“Savannah!” Rasch yelled, and reached for the rope ladder. It began to sway, and the scene below him blurred. He’d never get down to her on the ladder. After a quick, agonizing moment he moved to the opposite side of the platform, closed his eyes, and jumped.
His breathing stopped, and his body felt as if it turned inside out, but he survived, hitting the net and bouncing to a halt. He came to his knees and looked around. “Savannah, are you hurt?” He climbed across the swaying safety net to her side, losing his balance and falling across her.
“No, not unless you crush me with your rescue. That was a foolish thing to do, Crusader. You could have landed on top of me. I thought you fell.”
“No, I jumped. I thought you were hurt.”
Savannah wasn’t hurt, but she felt the wall of ice crack. Climbing to the platform hadn’t been easy, not even for Rasch, for jumping off must have been a nightmare for a novice. But he’d done it because he’d thought she was in danger. He’d come charging to her rescue again.
“Rasch … thank you. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” he growled. He tried to stand, but the net seemed to be intent on swallowing him. The more he tried, the more of an idiot he felt. What made matters worse was the sound of Savannah’s muffled giggle. Finally he was reduced to rolling toward the less malleable outside part of the net, catching the edge, pulling himself over, dropping to the sawdust beneath.
“So I’m not the most graceful thing in the world. Stop enjoying my awkwardness. I could have been mortally wounded.” He leaned against one of the support poles, pulled his jeans on, and jabbed his feet back into his sneakers.
Savannah stopped smiling. Maybe he was hurt. He’d never been trained in how to fall. She’d fallen, too, and she’d watched other members of her act fall, including Tifton, without it affecting her. But when she looked up and saw Rasch plunge off the platform, she’d felt her heart turn over.
“Where are you going? I need to examine you. I’m responsible for the safety of our employees. Let me look.”
“No, Savannah, if you examine me, it will be for yourself, not because I’m your responsibility.”
“I don’t understand you, Crusader.”
“I know. That’s why we’ve been taking the time to know each other. That’s why we’re going to a party. And that’s why I’m going back to work,” he said, picking up his shovel.
“Why?”
“Because I promised your father that I would conduct a proper courtship. I don’t think that making love to you in the sawdust is exactly what he was agreeing to.”
“What makes you think I’d let you, Horatio Webber?”
“You would,” he said seriously, his gray eyes turning to steel. “You will, but not yet.” He took a step forward and winced. He must have hit his knee when he fell, Savannah thought.
She saw him frown and climbed down from the net.
“You are hurt.”
“I hurt all right. I hurt every night. I hurt every time I see you. But it isn’t my knee, and you can ease my pain, anytime you choose. We’ve both been so caught up in separating ourselves from a normal life that we don’t know how to be lovers. I’m willing to wait for you, my Gypsy.”
“But, Rasch—” You don’t have to wait, she tried to say.
“Saturday night, Savannah. Wear something sharp. I’m going to take my girl to a party. We’re going uptown.”
“Are you sure you want me to be your girl?”
“I’m sure, Savannah Ramey. By the way,” he added with that wicked grin she was beginning to recognize as the forerunner of some new sweet talk, “if you’d like to go to my apartment beforehand to dress, that can be arranged.”
She gasped. “Your apartment? Why would I want to do that?”
“Becaus
e I have a shower, a nice hot shower, and I know how you’d like a shower.”
“No thanks, I’ll manage without one.”
“Too bad, I’d like sharing your bath.”
“Are you intentionally trying to drive me crazy?”
“I don’t think so. How would it look for the governor’s lady to be crazy?”
“Then make up your mind, Crusader. One minute you’re pushing me away, and the next you’re seducing me with your touch and your innuendos. Is that what you call a proper courtship?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never conducted one before. I’ve never been—” He cut off his own sentence. Never been in love before was what he’d almost said. He stared at Savannah in disbelief. A relationship, yes. Making Savannah care about him, yes. But love had never entered his mind, certainly not as a part of his plans for the future. He wasn’t prepared for what he’d just learned. He’d never stopped long enough to consider loving a woman before. Now it made sense, explained why he was moonlighting in a circus. He’d thought it was a way to make up for Tifton’s death.
He’d been wrong. Somewhere on that mountain trail he’d fallen in love with a Gypsy girl who’d showed him wildflowers and talked to animals. It had probably started to happen that first night on the balcony, and he hadn’t realized it. But now the very thought of a lifetime of loving Savannah Ramey overwhelmed him.
Something of what he was feeling must have showed in his face, for Savannah reached out and touched his arm. “I’m sorry, Crusader, I’ve never known anybody outside of my circus family, and I guess I’m just afraid to take a chance. This is all new to me too.”
She raised her eyes and took a deep breath. “All right, I’ll go to the party with you if you’re certain you want me too.”
“I’m certain, Savannah.” Holding her gaze, he leaned forward and brushed her lips. “Good night, Gypsy. If you run into any bears, my trailer door is always open.”
Savannah stepped away, removing her fingertips from his shoulder. Lordy, what was she doing? Just over Rasch’s shoulder she caught sight of the North Star gleaming brightly. Yep, you’ve been caught, Savannah. You’ve eaten of the forbidden fruit. Even when they weren’t touching, she was held by the force of his presence. She turned around and ran.
The Judge and the Gypsy Page 11
