Fire Lily (A Dangerous Hearts Romance)

by Deborah Camp

  Lily held her breath and prayed the other two would extend their regrets. She rolled her eyes in the direction of Orrie and could almost feel the woman’s mind whirring.

  “Uh … ummm …” Orrie stared at Balthazar for a moment, then said in a rush, “I can’t, Mr. Griffon. I got mending to do. Somehow I ripped a hole in my traveling skirt. I must repair it, don’t you see. And then there’s a few things I should launder.”

  “Yes, and I brought a book that has caught my interest,” Balthazar said. “I can hardly put it down. I believe I’ll stay in the room today and finish it, if you don’t mind, Griffon.”

  “Don’t mind a’tall,” Griffon said. Then his bright eyes found Lily. “And what about you? Do you have a torn dress or a good book to keep you from an outing to the river?”

  Leg irons and chains couldn’t keep me from going with you to the river, she thought. “I’d love to go,” she said, and barely kept from lowering one lid in a wink.

  “Fine, fine. Shall I ask the café owner for a few food items and a bottle of wine while you don your riding outfit?”

  “Yes, I’ll only be a few minutes,” Lily promised, ready to spring from her chair and dart outside toward the hotel, but Orrie intervened.

  “Pardon me, Mr. Griffon, but I don’t think it would be proper for you and Lily to go off alone—without a chaperone.”

  “Orrie, don’t you recall our talk last night? We’re friends, aren’t we?” Lily asked.

  “True enough. But people would get the wrong idea if you and Mr. Griffon rode out of town together, pretty as you please.”

  “What people?” Lily asked too sharply. “I don’t care what these Van Buren people think of me!”

  “These Van Buren people often cross the river to Fort Smith, Lily, and word would surely reach your aunt and uncle—word that you don’t conduct yourself as a lady. I promised the Meekers that I’d keep an eye on you.” Orrie looked miserable when Balthazar cleared his throat and sent her a stern what-the-devil-do-you-think-you’re-doing glare. “I gave my word, don’t you see.”

  “Then come with us,” Lily said. “I don’t want to dawdle in town.”

  “But my mending …” Orrie’s dark eyes reflected lost hope as she gazed longingly at Balthazar.

  “Hang your mending!”

  “Lily, behave yourself.” Griffon’s mild reproach stunned them all, but no one more than Lily.

  During the past few years she’d honed a sharp tongue and had usually gotten her way. Even her uncle had begun to throw up his hands in dismay when she resorted to stamping her foot and putting iron in her tone and steel in her eyes. But Griffon’s softly spoken request had gone straight to her heart. Shame clipped the wings of her high-and-mightiness, and she sought Orrie’s hand with her own.

  “Forgive me, Orrie. I shouldn’t speak to you like that. But I want to go to the river with Griffon. Can’t you bring your mending with you?”

  “Orrie, might I try to put your mind at ease?” Griffon asked. “Would it make you feel better if I point out that it will be broad daylight, we’ll return before dark, and that I’ll behave myself?”

  Orrie looked from him to Lily, back to Griffon, then to Balthazar, who was nodding as if his head were attached to a loose spring.

  “Please, Orrie? I’ll be good,” Lily said, adding her promise to Griffon’s.

  Orrie threw up her hands. “I’ll rue the day, but go on with you.” She wagged a finger in Lily’s face. “But keep in the open! And if anyone asks, you tell them that Mr. Griffon’s your cousin—better yet, your brother.”

  “Orrie, are you telling me to lie?” Lily asked, feigning shock but laughing under her breath.

  “I’m telling you to guard your reputation! It’s all a lady’s got worth anything in this world.” She regarded Griffon with serious intent. “I’m trusting my Lily to you, Mr. Griffon. You haven’t seen mad until you see me once my Lily’s been wronged.”

  “I believe you,” Griffon assured her. “She’ll be safe with me.” He kissed the back of Orrie’s hand, then the bluest eyes—the color of bluebells—found Lily. “Meet you in front of the hotel in an hour.”

  Lily sent him off with a smile. Somehow she felt as if she was on the brink of a dizzy adventure, one by which she would return a new person.

  “I don’t like this,” Orrie muttered as she and Lily left the Lucky Spoon. “I’ll fret all day.”

  “Oh, Orrie, don’t be such a fussing hen.” Lily glanced back, checking that Balthazar was far enough behind them that he wouldn’t hear her next remark. She whispered just to be sure. “I won’t let Griffon do anything to me that you wouldn’t let Balthazar do to you.”

  Orrie eyed her with rank anxiety, then she threw back her head and laughed. “You scamp! You just remember that I’m a woman of years and you’re a fair maiden. There’s a big difference! And I’ll know if something goes on behind my back.” She touched a finger under one eye. “You aren’t the only one with a seeing eye, little lady.”

  Chapter 12

  The barge, anchored at the shoreline, bobbed gently on the Arkansas River. Flat-bottomed, its sides were no more than three feet high. Reclining as she was, Lily was hidden from any passersby, who were few and far between. In the hour since they’d happened on the barge, she and Griffon hadn’t seen a soul. Chattering squirrels, songbirds, and delicate butterflies were their companions. Idyllic was the word that kept drifting through Lily’s mind. She realized it had been weeks since she’d known such peace. Tensed muscles relaxed in her shoulders and neck. For a while, her cares slipped from their moorings, leaving her trouble-free.

  Griffon had spread two blankets on the rough barge floor, and there they’d commenced on their noon meal of cherry wine, a loaf of banana nut bread, boiled eggs, and a jar of sweet pickles. An odd assortment of foods to be sure, but they all tasted unbelievably good to Lily. It was as if her senses were heightened so that she appreciated, relished, every taste, every aroma, every texture.

  Stretched on her side with one elbow propping her up, Lily watched a striped bumblebee float from blossom to blossom along the shore and thought that the nectar it gathered couldn’t be any sweeter than the cherry wine. Griffon hadn’t remembered to pack glasses, so they drank right from the bottle. That, too, seemed inordinately pleasurable. The wine was deep crimson and deceptively intoxicating. Like no beverage she’d ever tasted!

  Glad she’d dressed comfortably, Lily tipped her head to the side to fully enjoy the lick of a breeze up her neck and across her cheek. She’d even forgone her corset, something she rarely did, and she reveled in the freedom of movement. Only a chemise and legged petticoat touched her skin, none too confining. Over them she wore her split riding skirt and a calico blouse.

  Griffon, too, had opted for comfort, choosing black trousers and a loose, collarless shirt. He eyed the river over his shoulder, then sat up as if coming to a decision.

  “I’m going to wade in. It looks so bracing, I can’t resist.” His blue-eyed gaze glittered with mischief. “Want to join me?”

  “I can’t! I’ll get my clothes wet.”

  He shrugged. “So will I. They’ll dry. We won’t wade out too far. It isn’t too deep near the barge.” He held out a hand, wiggling his fingers. “Come on. It’ll feel wonderful.”

  The outing had been memorable, and a dunk in the river didn’t seem out of hand, so Lily sat up to tug off her boots. Griffon followed suit, yanking off his high boots and heavy socks. He rolled up his pants legs to the knees, then hopped over the side of the barge, laughing like a boy. Droplets leaped into the air all around him.

  “It’s great,” he assured her. “Take my hands.”

  Slipping her hands into his, Lily held her breath and jumped. The water was breathtakingly cold. It swirled around her. She lost her footing, and Griffon supported her weight until she found it again. Laughing, she shivered.

  “It’s c-cold!”

  “Your body will adapt to it.” He flung back his head. “I think
it feels wonderful. That old sun is heating the air. Spring is getting long in the tooth early this year.” He looked around at the leafed-out trees, most a budding lime green, but some had already changed to summer emerald.

  “It’s the rain. We’ve had more than normal.” A rainstorm had brought Griffon to her doorstep, she recalled. She slicked her wet hands over her hair, taming curling wisps and directing them to her chignon. The river swept up under her skirt, and she kept her legs together so that the full halves wouldn’t float up to her waist. “I haven’t jumped into a river since I was ten or twelve. Somewhere along there I decided or was told that it wasn’t ladylike to splash about, clothed or not.”

  “It was at a river where I suffered my first case of puppy love.” He smiled hugely at the memory. “Her name was Zola, and she was twelve or thirteen years old. Coal-black hair and eyes. Coffee-colored skin. She was washing clothes with her mother and sisters at the riverbank, and I was watering a couple of horses. She was a Carranza.”

  “Carranza family, you mean?”

  “Yes, and I have no doubt she would have been selected as my wife if I’d stayed in the family. I often wonder who she ended up with after I was sent away.”

  “Selected … there are arranged marriages among Gypsies?”

  “Most always.”

  “And I suppose the girls have no say in the selection.” Lily skimmed her palms over the water’s surface. She felt something small and scaly brush the calf of her leg and tried not to think about it.

  “The girls have as much say as the boys.” He laughed and splashed water into his face. “Which is little or nothing.”

  “So I thought.”

  “It’s a little different with the Gypsies. Most cultures, I’ve found, require that the maiden come with a dowry. With us Gypsies, the female is the jewel. A family never gives up a jewel without being paid well. The more beautiful the jewel, the heftier the price.”

  “You mean the boy’s family purchases the girl?”

  He made a face, not liking her phrasing. “Yes, in a manner of speaking.”

  “That’s slavery, and it was abolished in this country years ago.”

  “It’s compensation, and Gypsies have no country, so they don’t follow any country’s laws.” He brought a handful of water to his face again. “The girl joins the boy’s family. Her family should be left with something. After all, they’ve lost a wage earner.” His grin was kind, not bitter. “The women support the families. The men—” He shrugged helplessly. “Well, Gypsy men are good for two things: spending money and making babies.”

  “In that case, maybe it’s fortunate that you were forced out to be on your own. You would never have received a good education or learned a trade if you’d stayed.” Holding on to the side of the barge, she began to pick her way across the riverbed, her feet sliding on mossy rocks. “Is it true that Gypsies marry when they’re but children?”

  “Gypsies grow up fast. The boys are married by the time they’re sixteen, the girls when they’re thirteen or fourteen.”

  Lily shook her head, dismayed. So young. Children marrying and pretending to be adults, she thought.

  “There’s a good reason for them marrying young,” Griffon said, his voice muffled.

  “What, pray tell?” She looked back at him and found that he’d stripped off his shirt. He’d waded out to where the water pooled around his lean waist. Wadding his shirt into a ball, he tossed it toward the barge. It would have fallen short if Lily had not plucked it from the air just before it hit the water.

  “Thanks,” he said when she dropped it onto the barge. “Orrie should see us now, eh?”

  Lily shuddered as an image of Orrie’s wide eyes and gaping mouth flashed through her mind. Don’t think about that, she instructed herself. It’ll only ruin the magic of this day. “Tell me why the Gypsies marry so young.”

  He shrugged smooth, coppery-colored shoulders and ran a hand down his chest, a chest bulging with muscle and lightly sprinkled with fine, dark hair. “We must come to the marriage whole—virgins.”

  “I know many young women over the age of sixteen who can and do enter into marriages pure and untouched.”

  “But how many young men can you say the same about?”

  She faced him, bracing her arms and back against the barge. “None, actually. Unless, you’re …?”

  “No.” A smile hurried across his face. “But you are.”

  For reasons she could not name, she felt her face flush with embarrassment and her voice emerged whispery. “Of course.”

  That wandering hand of his smoothed over his jutting breastbone and then hung on the opposite shoulder. “But you don’t necessarily want to be—a virgin, I mean.”

  “W-what?” She tried to laugh. “What a thing to say! Of course, I want to be …”

  “It’s wearing thin, losing its appeal, outliving its time.” Again, he clarified unnecessarily, “Your virginity, that is.”

  “Yes, I know the subject matter. You don’t need to keep repeating it.” Her tone was sharp, too shrill.

  “I’ve upset you, and that wasn’t my intent.”

  “No, it’s just that …” She bobbed her shoulders. “This is a strange conversation. We shouldn’t even be discussing this. It’s far too personal.”

  He shifted from one foot to the other, and the water shifted with him, swirling around him and then flowing smoothly again. “It is personal, but since I was hoping to relieve you of your virginity this afternoon, I think we should discuss it.”

  If she had been called upon to spit or die, she’d have been doomed to take her last breath. With her mouth as dry as a desert and the rest of her body throbbing with a blistering heat while she stood thigh-high in river water, Lily stared at him. His pulse rang in her ears like church bells—bong! bong! bong! Somewhere in the echoing depths of her body, she found her voice.

  “You were hoping that, were you?” Where had she uncovered that voice of sanity? If her tone had matched her disposition she would have squawked like a frightened chicken.

  Never had his eyes seemed so richly, robustly blue. “Weren’t you?”

  A weak laugh trilled from her. “Hope would be too strong a word. I hadn’t hoped. I considered the possibility. But you must know, Griffon, that a woman can’t make this kind of decision lightly. This will, undoubtedly, affect the rest of my life.”

  “Undoubtedly. And the decision is yours, Lily. I want to make that clear. I’ll gladly seduce you, but only after you’ve given me permission.” A smile, crooked and charming, bloomed on his heart-stoppingly handsome face. “Or, if you’d rather, I’ll grant you permission to seduce me.”

  She released another of those nervous laughs. “I would be atrocious at that, I’m afraid.”

  “I beg to differ. I would be a willing partner and that would make the task far easier.”

  Because she was afraid her face would burst into flame, Lily lifted handfuls of water to it. Drops rivered down her cheeks, nose, chin; streamed into the valley between her breasts. The cherry wine, heated by her body, sent fumes to her head that made her thoughts hazy and meandering. Suddenly, nothing seemed too ridiculous or too scandalous to ponder … to permit.

  “And if I allowed you to relieve me of my maiden’s burden, would it be our private business, or would you hire a bragging wagon and ride it through the streets of Van Buren and Fort Smith?”

  He made a face. “I’m sorry you had to ask that. Of course, it would be our private business. While I would be proud and pleased, I would share this only with you.”

  “And you wouldn’t think of me as your property afterward, nor would you be familiar with me in front of others?”

  He made a cross upon his chest. “On my honor.”

  “Oh, dear.” She pressed her fingertips to her lips and felt her eyes widen with alarm.

  “What is it?”

  Her hand fell away to release her voice. “I’m actually considering this, aren’t I? I’m shocked!” Giggles b
ubbled past her lips before she could stopper them with her hand again. A thought blasted through her, and she drew herself up with alarm. “Do you think Orrie or Aunt Nan and Uncle Howard will be able to look at me and tell?”

  “Tell what?”

  “Tell that I’m no longer—a l-lady.” The last word was hard to expel. It stuck in her throat, a last vestige of propriety.

  “Lily,” he whispered, sadly shaking his head. “Being a lady has nothing to do with this. You know that, don’t you?”

  She nodded with reticence. “But will they be able to tell?”

  “Of course not. Not unless you go about grinning from ear to ear and reciting my name.”

  “I shall refrain from that, I’m sure.” She decided the river was too strong for her suddenly weak knees. Moving cautiously, she went around to the open end of the barge and sat on the smooth planks. Her skirts hung soddenly against her legs. She slapped the soles of her feet against the water. The sting cleared some of the fog from her brain. “I might become pregnant. That wouldn’t do.”

  “You won’t. I’ll take care of that.”

  She glanced at him sharply. “You can do that? You can keep from making me pregnant?”

  He folded his arms on his chest and nodded. “Of course.”

  “You know a lot about this, don’t you?”

  “Well …” He glanced down at the rippling water, then back up to her. “Let’s just say I know more about it than you.”

  “Such humility!” She threw up her hands and laughed, then she plucked at her skirt, her mind in a whirl. “I suppose it’s good that one of us is experienced.” An errant thought nudged her. “If you’d stayed with your family, you’d be married with children by now.”

  “Many children by now, I imagine,” he agreed. “I’m glad it worked out this way. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here with you.”