Joanna glanced at Stefan, who lay on his back staring at her, eyes dark with desire, one corner of his mouth tipped in a suggestive smile. With his hands clasped behind his head, his broad chest bared to her view, and the male part of him primed and ready for her, he looked inviting, and extraordinarily masculine. "What did you see out there?" he asked.
"Nothing as interesting as what I am seeing in here," she said, contemplating how much she wanted him to make love to her again.
He patted the bed. "Which means we don't have much time for taming the beast. As you can plainly see, he has reared his ugly head again."
"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder." Joanna snuggled against him. "And I find nothing ugly about the beast. In fact, he's really quite appealing." Passing her hand over his chest and down his ribs, she drew little circles around his navel and across his belly, curious at the way the beast moved as she did. "My lovely beast is doing a little dance," she said, as she continued to draw little circles. "I never knew such a thing could happen."
Stefan grabbed her hand. "Enough. The beast is ready to dance inside you now."
"In that case—" Joanna swept her nightgown over her head and tossed it on the floor, then cuddled up against him and said, "—let the dance begin."
"Not until you've been properly courted," Stefan said. "This is no ordinary beast. He is actually a knight in not-so-shining armor, who insists on courting his damsel."
"But his damsel is really not interested in being courted right now," Joanna said. "She would rather be ravished."
"Later." Stefan glided his hand down her body, tracing his finger over and around the places that made her breath catch, and her heart quicken. "It's not so bad, is it? Being courted," he said, causing a series of spontaneous shivers as he touched her... there. And poked the tip of his tongue... there.
Lips parted with her quick breaths, little moans of pleasure bubbling up, Joanna trembled from the frisson of sensual pleasure coursing through her with Stefan's intimate stroking. "I'm ready... very, very ready... for this courtship to be over," she said, in a husky voice. Like the petals of a flower opening, she welcomed him. And when he joined his body with hers, her breath caught momentarily, then she released a long sigh of fulfillment. Then her fingers curl into his back and her body began moving in rhythm with his...
Afterwards, as she lay nestled in his arms, content and satiated from their passionate lovemaking, Stefan brushed the damp hair from her face, looked into her eyes and said, "I love you, sweetheart. You are my life, my love, my wife."
Joanna rested her head in the hollow of his shoulder and curved her arm across his chest, her hand over his heart, her palm feeling the steady rhythm, knowing how fragile was the thread between life and death for a man like Stefan, who toyed with death every day, and said, "I love you too, but there is still so much undecided."
Stefan looked at her, perplexed. "What's undecided?"
Joanna tried to formulate the words to tell him the truth. Ever since she'd seen Matthew in Vicksburg, an impulse for change had nagged her. Deciding there was no right way to tell Stefan, she said, "I'm undecided whether to continue working with Gene. He and Karl want the nets dropped. Otto feels the same, but Otto wouldn't insist if I were against it."
Stefan looked at her, eyes sharp with awareness, and said, "Don't even consider flying without nets."
Joanna's fingers curled around the sapphire on its chain, fingering its smooth surface, feeling a strange comfort as her thumb passed over it. "It may be the only way I get my contract renewed and stay with Porter Brothers." She looked into brooding eyes. "There's time," she said. "No decisions have to be made today." She thrust her fingers into his hair and pressed her lips to his, kissing him long and hard to distract him from that thought.
"No," he said against her lips. "No flying without nets. That's where we draw the line. I'll make sure Gene Marquis gets the message, loud and clear."
"What do you intend to do?" she asked.
"Have a very persuasive talk with the man." Stefan snatched his drawers from the floor and slipped them on. "You will not be flying without nets. I forbid it."
"You forbid it?" Joanna felt her temper rise. "This is my act. I'll be the one to handle Gene, and I'll be the one to make the final decision about the nets."
"You're my wife," Stefan said. "I can't let you do it."
Joanna was on the verge of reminding him that she was not his legal wife, and he had no hold on her, but she wanted to be his wife, wanted him to think of her that way. She just had no solution to their dilemma. Slipping on her robe, she said, "You make demands of me for your peace of mind, yet you refuse to hold yourself to those same standards. Maybe if the nets were dropped you'd understand what I go through every time you step into the cage with your cats. Maybe it's the only way you'd understand."
Stefan stared at her, the muscles in his jaws tightening.
When he said nothing, Joanna added, "You're the one who said that if we can't live with the danger we shouldn't be in the show. Well, I'm terrified every time you go into the cage with your cats, but I'm also terrified with the thought of flying without nets, so maybe it's time for me to leave the show. That would solve both problems."
The worried frown on Stefan's brow deepened. Afraid that he would become stressed and worried over this new turn of events, and that it could effect his rapport with his animals, she said, to ease his mind, "Nothing has to be decided today. Now, go tend to your cat with the bad tooth." She curved her arms around his neck and gave him a kiss, then walked him to the door.
After he'd gone, Joanna realized how hopeless the nurturing of their love and the sharing of their lives now seemed. If she stayed with the show, she'd have to watch Stefan with the cats every day of their lives. And after his act was over, she'd be up on the bars, performing without nets. But if she left the show, she'd leave alone. She sighed. Perhaps it was never meant to be.
Feeling the weight of a new day on her shoulders, she dressed and prepared to practice her ground exercises and meet with Gene and Otto. And the following day, on arriving in Donaldsonville, she'd be practicing aerial ballet, working on the trapezes, doing warm ups with Gene and Otto—the same endless routine from daybreak until the last torches were extinguished on the dock at night, when she would once again fall into bed fatigued.
And each day that she stayed with Porter Brothers, she'd wonder if she'd have Stefan's arms around her at night, or if he'd be in a hospital bed somewhere... or worse.
That she couldn't live with.
***
Donaldsonville, Louisiana
In spite of the doctor's advice that Stefan stay quiet for several days after the headaches and dizziness had passed, and ignoring Joanna's pleas that he do as he'd been advised, Stefan stepped into the big cage, eyes alive with anticipation, demeanor unruffled. Joanna refused to watch him again, not even when she could hear the gasps of the crowd and imagined what was taking place. But her absence from the scene did nothing to quell her apprehension. It wasn't until after the final performance there that she was able to relax. Stefan would be involved with Laszlo's wedding, so he would be away from his cats.
She told Stefan she did not plan to attend the wedding, but intended to spend the evening with Otto, who she'd cajoled into taking her to dinner. She was anxious to talk to him alone and express her doubts about continuing with the act. He was in agreement with Gene about dropping the nets, and she hoped to change his view. For the occasion, she dressed in a spring gown of blue India silk strewn with yellow blossoms and Nile green leaves. She fastened the sapphire around her neck and pinned a cluster of yellow and blue silk flowers in the upsweep of her hair.
Glancing out the window, she saw that the buggy she'd reserved from the livery was waiting on the landing with road lamps lit. As she adjusted the flowers in her hair, rapid knocks sounded on the cabin door. Assuming it was Otto, she pulled the door open, surprised to find a distraught looking Kitta staring at her. "Ivan left without me
, and Stefan doesn't answer," Kitta said, ebony eyes flashing, her voice turbulent. "Do you know where Stefan is?"
Joanna stared at the discomposed young woman. "He left quite a while ago," she said. "But they thought you'd be going with your mother when your cousin came for her."
Kitta glanced around, one hand propped against her waist, the other gesturing in dismay as she explained in an agitated voice, "The procession starts in ten minutes and—"
"Come on," Joanna said. "I'll take you." She took Kitta's arm and ushered her down the stairs. Otto, of course, would wonder where she'd gone, but she'd explain later.
They climbed onto the buggy and Joanna gathered the reins. She clicked her tongue and the horse bolted forward. Turning onto the road that tracked the levy, she followed the directions that Stefan had given her earlier, in the event she changed her mind about going.
Kitta toyed with the string of baubles draped around her neck. "Why are you doing this?" she asked, eyes fixed on the road ahead.
Joanna glanced at Kitta. "You want to go to your brother's wedding, don't you?"
"Yes," Kitta said. "But why should you care if I get there or not?"
"Because I know it means a lot to you," Joanna replied.
Kitta glanced at Joanna. "Thanks," she said, a slight smile touching her lips.
Joanna realized the gesture had been difficult for proud, headstrong Kitta, who'd been praised all her life by her grandmother for her cleverness and cunning. "I have no grievance with you," she said. "I want to be your friend, or at least, not your enemy."
"Do you plan to stay with Stefan?"
"Is that what determines if we can be friends?"
"He's Romany and you're not."
"He's half Romany," Joanna corrected, "just like you. But unlike Stefan, you're denying half your heritage. You can be the best of both, the clever spirited Romany, and the aggressive intuitive gorgio. You'd make a darn good lawyer."
Kitta looked askance at Joanna. "Josef said that too. Do you really think I could? I mean... women aren't usually lawyers."
"And you are not the usual woman."
Kitta smiled. When they turned into the campground, Joanna looked ahead at the black silhouettes of wagons. Kitta pointed, and said, "There's Mamio over there."
Joanna pulled to a stop and waited while Kitta climbed down. Kitta looked up at Joanna. "Have you ever been to a Rom wedding?" she asked.
"No," Joanna replied, "But I'm sure Laszlo and Cara's wedding will be lovely."
Kitta glanced around. "Why don't you come? Stefan is around here somewhere."
"I'd be out of place."
"There are so many people," Kitta said, "no one would even notice you."
"Are you kidding?" Joanna replied. "Do I look gypsy?"
"Kitta?" Stefan's voice cut through the darkness. He emerged from the shadows, wearing a black, cutaway coat, silk cravat, and top hat. The sight of him near took Joanna's breath away. But then, the sight of him always did that, no matter his state of dress... or undress.
"Everyone's looking for you," he said to Kitta. "Where the devil have you been?"
Kitta glared at her brother. "Trying to find a ride after you and Ivan left me! Fortunately, Joanna volunteered."
Stefan pointed to the gathering crowd. "Mama and Mamio are waiting for you."
Kitta gave Joanna a quick smile before rushing off.
Stefan braced his foot on the step of the buggy so he was eye level with Joanna, kissed her lightly, and said, "I'm glad you came."
"I'm not staying," Joanna said. "I look totally out of place."
"You look beautiful," he said, his eyes flickering with admiration.
"That's not what I mean."
"I know what you mean," he said, "and it doesn't matter. Besides, everyone's here to see Laszlo and Cara, not us."
Joanna looked at Stefan's eager face. "Well, maybe just for the ceremony."
Stefan grinned, eyes luminous in the subdued light. "If you leave before the reception you'll miss a feast to end all feasts." He hopped to the ground and raised his arms to help her down. She placed her hands on his shoulders and slipped to the ground, then curved her arms around his neck, and said, "This is all I need right now." She stood on tiptoe and kissed him.
He pulled her into his arms and held her against him. "I wish it was us out there getting married," he said against the top of her head. "I want you as my legal wife. I want the ties that bind--chains, manacles, whatever it takes to tie you to me."
Joanna looked up at him. So much would have to happen to make that a reality. She knew he would give up the cats for her and their child, if she was carrying it, but she couldn't let him do that. If he had a reason to leave the show beyond her, maybe it would work. But she suspected that after time had passed, he'd be back. She kissed him. "Having you in my bed each night is all I need. Besides, chains and manacles would get in the way of our lovemaking." She ran her hands along the silk facing of his lapels. "I wish we were in my stateroom right now because seeing you looking so handsome in this suit is having a decidedly unladylike effect on me because all I want to do is strip it from you, one garment at a time, and feast my eyes on every deliciously male part of you. In fact, I feel like a wanton hussy."
"Good God," he said. "You have any idea what that kind of talk does to a man?"
Joanna smiled. "Of course. And I don't need to look down to know."
Stefan covered her mouth with his, kissing her deeply, then said, "I'll try to get away from here early so you can be as wanton and unladylike as you desire. Until then, however, I'm going to be pretty damn uncomfortable."
She gave him a sultry smile. "I promise to make it worth your while."
He chucked her under the chin. "You always do."
After tying the horse, Stefan tucked Joanna's hand in the crook of his arm and they threaded their way among women wearing skirts of vividly-contrasting colors and low-cut overblouses and embroidered vests, their hair adorned with ornaments or covered with bright-colored scarves, and they strolled past men in conventional suits, or wearing coats trimmed with brass buttons and metal discs. Stefan placed his palm over Joanna's hand and squeezed. "I have to leave you for the ceremony," he said, "but I'll meet you here as soon as it's over."
Joanna looked around at the people, who seemed unaware of her, the focus of their attention on the procession that was forming. "I'll be here, unless of course I'm snatched up and carried away by a band of marauding gypsies," she teased with a wicked grin.
Stefan gave her a wry smile. "If you are," he said, "the king of the gypsies will personally track them down. You can count on that. He kissed her lightly, then went to join the procession marching toward a wagon adorned with red crepe flowers.
The procession halted at a barricade of chairs draped with red and blue streamers that blocked the entrance to the bride's wagon. Tekla Janacek, along with one of Ivan's uncles, stepped around the barricade and went inside. The people waited until Ivan's uncle announced that the bride price was accepted. Cheers rose and the barricade came down. Then quiet fell over the crowd and everyone waited for the bride to appear.
After the short wedding ceremony, the guests gathered round a table graced with a four-tiered white wedding cake. As Stefan started toward Joanna, he was detained by several of the guests. It was then that Joanna began to feel eyes on her. A woman seated at a table with several other women stared openly, eyes coldly appraising. Under her relentless gaze, Joanna had the feeling she was being thoroughly inspected. Several other women paused from eating to follow the woman's gaze, all of them watching with smoldering eyes. Joanna backed away and turned. Seldom had she been the object of such close scrutiny. She moved to the fringes of the festivities and sat on one of several chairs arranged in a group. While she searched the crowd for Stefan, she heard a rustling and glanced back to see a figure moving from the shadows and walking toward her. With relief, she realized it was Helen.
"I thought it was you," Helen said, smiling. "Do you
mind if I join you?"
Joanna nodded. "Please do."
Helen sat beside her. Looking in the direction of the musicians, she said, "Kitta will be dancing the zorongo for Laszlo and Cara. She's over there about ready to begin." She pointed to where Kitta stood in front of the fire.
The first tones rose from the orchestra—rich gypsy strings accentuated by the resonance of flamboyant brass. Kitta glided into a cleared area illuminated by flames, her arms high above her head, fingers snapping like pistol shots.
"She's barefoot," Joanna stated.
Helen laughed. "Kitta never does anything halfway. She may not be able to walk tomorrow, but tonight she'll dance like a proper Rom or die trying."
Kitta swirled to the lively music, her movements quick and active, her bare feet lightly touching the ground, her body twisting to the insistent frenzy of four violins accompanied by the staccato clapping of onlookers. While watching Kitta's spontaneous movements, Joanna said to Helen, "Did you have a wedding like this?"
"No," Helen replied. "Alonzo and I were denied a gypsy ceremony since marriage between Rom and gorgio is without parental approval."
"I suppose you weren't too well-received after that," Joanna said, watching as Kitta's body swayed to the sliding notes and glissandos of the Gypsy fiddle.
"Not at first," Helen replied. "The laws of the tribe are rooted in tradition, and marriage is important to the Romany. Although it's strictly forbidden for a Rom woman to marry a gorgio man, marriage between a Rom man and a gorgio woman—like Alonzo and me, and you and Stefan—is tolerated as long as the wife lives with the husband's family and acts as a servant to the mother-in-law, obeying everything she says.
"Doesn't it bother you to be subservient to your mother-in-law?" Joanna asked, trying to understand the strange ways of these wandering people.
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