The barn was warm and busy. A brazier burned in the middle and lanterns glowed along the walls.
When she was a child, they had often slept there over the summer, while the men had worked for the farmer. Then, the farmer had built a new barn and let them stay there when they wished, in winter, too, with his animals, grain and hay safely stored elsewhere. Her aunts and cousins all came to greet her. The older children who were still awake ran to hug her. Their warmth flooded her with affection and gratitude, and yet there was a strange unreality about this situation. Only last night she had lived in a castle with aristocrats for companions and footmen to serve her. Tonight, she was to dance in a barn with gypsies. She knew which of these situations should seem unreal. But of course, it was the Earl of Braithwaite’s presence which was wrong.
Aurora led her up to the hayloft which had been partitioned with haphazard screens made of bright blankets. Aurora had set up her tent for her family, which looked cozy and appealing with its bright cushions and blankets.
“This is handsome,” Aurora remarked, when she had peeled off Dawn’s old cloak to reveal the sable-lined cloak beneath. “Did he give you it?”
Dawn nodded. “At least I can give it back, now.”
Aurora paused and grasped Dawn by the shoulders. “Dawnie, don’t you know what this party is for?”
Dawn stared at her, bewildered, until Aurora flung away from her, and rummaged inside her trunk. She emerged with a bundle of red silk which she shook out, displaying a familiar gown. It was the dress Aurora had been married in, and before that, so had Aurora’s mother and grandmother.
Dawn’s heart jolted into her throat. “What…what has Da…He can’t do this, Aurora! Not to an earl!”
“Your earl sounded perfectly agreeable.”
The world was tilting ever further out of her control. Perhaps she was dreaming. She made one more stab at reality. “That’s silly. Earls don’t marry gypsies.”
“Apparently this one does. He followed you here to do it, Dawn.” Aurora dropped the gown on the cushions. “What happened? Did he debauch you? Hurt you?”
Dawn blinked. “He never touched me.” She refocused her gaze on Aurora’s face. “I own I wanted him to. But nothing is ever that simple, is it?”
“If you don’t want this, I’ll smuggle you out till he’s gone. You can leave Da to me.”
“Want it?” The words burst from Dawn. “He doesn’t mean it. He can’t.”
Aurora frowned. “You mean he won’t recognize our marriage ceremony? He’ll use it to have his way with you and then leave you?”
“He won’t see it like that. To him, it’s a way for us to be together that dishonors neither of us. And leaves him free to marry Miss Farnborough.”
“Who is Miss Farnborough?” Aurora asked, puzzled.
Dawn waved one dismissive hand. “She doesn’t matter. She can easily be substituted for some other vapid female with the right blood and upbringing.”
Aurora took her hand and tugged to make her sit on the cushions. “What do you want, little sister?” she asked bluntly.
Emotion rushed on Dawn, closing her throat, depriving her of breath. The dreams she had once harbored were foolish, could never come true. The great eternal love she had once foretold for him was not with her. But maybe, just maybe, she could have a little of him forever.
“Make me beautiful, Aurora,” she whispered. “For one night, or maybe two, he will be mine.”
*
This was not quite how Gervaise had planned their reunion. He had meant to find her, sweep her into his arms, and take her home to his castle. And marry her. Only Ezra had chosen this moment of all others to discover paternal concern. After thrusting Dawn at him on their first meeting, now he would not let her go without marriage.
This part did not trouble Gervaise. But he had not counted on being separated from her almost as soon as they’d set eyes on each other. He needed to speak to her alone, to find out what she wanted, if she loved him. But he couldn’t get near her. The women not attending Dawn were setting up a table for feasting. The whole camp was in motion, deploying wall torches and braziers in the barn, which they decorated with bright blankets and cushions. It all seemed to have one aim—to keep him from his bride. And Gervaise, who could slice through any opposition in his own world, from unruly mobs, to political opponents and his own opinionated mother, found himself curiously helpless. He did not want this to happen without Dawn’s consent.
And yet, when they finally brought her down from the loft, all coherent thought ended.
He could not breathe.
A stunning red gown of no particular era shone in the torchlight, contrasting with her pale, yet glowing skin. Bracelets adorned her arms, gold and semi-precious stone necklaces were wound around her slender neck. Her hair was piled high on her head, held with Spanish combs and allowed to tumble loose down her nape and back. Her shoulders were bare, the neckline of the gown plunging to reveal just enough of her breasts to drive any man wild.
She was magnificent, maddeningly beautiful, and that was before he even looked into her eyes. Large and brilliant green, they met his boldly. He read no hostility there, now, only temptation.
He swallowed, barely able to drag his gaze free when Ezra commanded his attention. Ezra stood before him, splendid in a heavily embroidered shirt. Gervaise, properly aware of very little except Dawn standing so close to him that they almost touched, thought that Aurora and Jerry stood behind them. The rest of the family, including the older children, encircled them, watching avidly. Incense, sweet and heady, filled his nostrils.
Ezra began to speak, but in Romany. Gervaise didn’t mind. He had no real interest in the words. Only when Ezra took a wicked looking dagger from Aurora and took Dawn’s hand, did Gervaise react, flinging his arm across Dawn to protect her.
“Be still,” she said, low. “It’s part of the ceremony.”
Confused, Gervaise dropped his arm and watched in horror as Ezra made a swift, shallow cut in her palm. A moment later, his own hand was seized, cut and joined with Dawn’s. There was an instant when he glimpsed their blood mingling, and in spite of himself, as Ezra wrapped a long piece of embroidered linen around their joined hands, he was moved. Far more than the giving of a ring, this united them. Their lifeblood was one. And abruptly, his desire returned with a vengeance.
Barely aware of the rest of the ceremony, he knew only that he did not wish to be unbound from Dawn. When Ezra eventually untied the linen and released them, he handed the slightly blood-stained cloth to Gervaise, who stuffed it in his pocket.
“And now you are married,” Ezra said in English. “Man and wife. Let us celebrate. Matthew!”
The fiddler, looking morose but no longer hostile, began to play a merry dance that made even Gervaise’s feet tap on the floor. He ached to be alone with his bride and no longer simply to talk.
She took his hand, smiling as she pulled away, stretching his arm before she spun back against him. Her soft curves touched in all the right places. Her eyes devoured him.
“Are we really married?” he asked hoarsely.
“By our laws. Come, we have to drink a toast.”
Ezra presented him with a small, silver goblet. Gervaise drank impatiently, anxious to get the ritual over. Rough spirit burned his tongue and his throat. Ezra took the goblet from him and handed it to Dawn. Gervaise could not take his gaze off her luscious lips as they closed over the cup and she drank from the same place.
Again, everyone cheered over the music.
“Can we go now?” Gervaise breathed in her ear as she handed the cup back to Ezra.
“Go where?”
“Home. Bed. Anywhere we can be alone.”
“Now you are impatient?” she teased.
“I’ve always been impatient. Now, I can no longer bear it.”
“Then you must dance with me,” she said huskily, trailing one fingernail down his chest to his waist. His breath caught with sheer lust, and she smiled. “As
you once promised. Persuade me.” Her finger veered left toward the embroidered linen half-spilling from his pocket. With one tug, she pulled it free and, seizing his hand, she spun away, drawing her with him.
And then, she began to dance, and nothing in the world had ever been so alluring, so provocative, so beautiful.
*
For Dawn, there was only Gervaise. Separated from his own world, he was fully hers for this night at least. He should have looked incongruous and stiff in his English gentleman’s clothing among the colorful gypsies in festival garb, and yet he didn’t. He didn’t even pull away or retreat in embarrassment when she began to dance around him, drawing him with her, tempting him. He caught her to him, spinning together as though they were waltzing, and let her pull away again. For a few minutes, while he grew used to the tones and rhythms, they simply danced, and it was fun to be with him, to see the veneer of his civilization slide slowly away. Neither of them paid any attention to their watchers, clapping in rhythm and cheering them on.
Gradually, subtly, Matthew began to change his music to that of a courtship dance. Now, she danced blatantly to tempt Gervaise, drawing him in and pulling away as soon as their bodies touched. And then, instead of simply swishing the linen in her hand, she threw it over his head, and slid it down to his waist, and he smiled, his eyes gleaming and hot because she had captured him.
Laughing, she threw her head back, tugging him nearer and then backing away to Matthew’s seductive, insistent rhythm. Each time she dragged him closer, she let him stay there just a little longer before she danced away. And each time, it was harder to leave him, for her body ached and throbbed. Every brush of her breasts against his chest aroused her further. She loved to tease him and she loved to touch him. She adored the heat in his eyes, his quickened breath, the unashamed hardness which skimmed against her. She could do this all night until he begged her to take him to bed.
She drew him close once more, her eyes locked on his. The lust she read there was intense enough to frighten her. For the first time she began to wonder what she was unleashing, and if she could possibly handle it. But his hips moved against hers more intimately than ever before and her legs began to tremble. Hastily, she stepped back, but his hands grasped her wrists, preventing her.
He jerked the linen from her fingers, threw it over her head and worked it slowly down her body. Then he yanked it hard and she gasped as she was hauled against his hips, and the hardness between his thighs. Now, she, once the captor, was the captive. New, wondrous excitement rushed through her.
His gaze dropped from her eyes to her lips. He leaned over her and his every movement caressed her breasts, and the melting heat at the juncture of her thighs. Before everyone, he lowered his head the last few inches and fastened his mouth to hers.
She was lost and she was won.
“Now,” he whispered against her lips. “Now.”
She had no excuse to misunderstand him, for his arm replaced the linen at her waist and he hurried her with him through the crowd of her family, who made way for them, laughing and spilled into their own dance.
At the loft ladder, he released her, his clouded eyes urging her up. She climbed with trembling legs, and by the time she turned to help him, he was already beside her, his arm back around her as though he could not bear the slightest distance between them. Wordlessly, she led him to the far end of the loft, behind the screens the women had prepared, to the bed of blankets and cushions over fresh straw.
As the veiling blanket fell back into place behind them, he took her into his arms and kissed her again, sweeping her hard against him. His lips left hers, dropping hot, intense kisses on her jaw and throat and the swell of her breasts until she moaned. It seemed he understood only too well how to unlace her gown, for when he tugged it once, it fell around her feet and she stood before him totally naked.
She had no time for embarrassment, only for an instant of fierce triumph as she read his awed delight, and then he pushed against her and they fell together onto the cushions. His weight ground into her. His hands devoured her, stroking everywhere until he discovered the secret of her own fevered lust. With a groan, as if he couldn’t help it, he pushed inside her.
She moaned, holding him, scrabbling at his clothes, but their urgency was too great and he took her while still half-dressed. Nevertheless, he loved her with the care and tenderness a virgin needed. Only at the end, when she cried out her astonished joy, did he lose his control utterly. His wilder strokes intensified her pleasure and as he found his release, she wrapped him in her arms and wept from sheer happiness.
Chapter Seventeen
She woke to delicious warmth, to Gervaise’s naked limbs wrapped around her. Daylight filtered through the tiny cracks in the roof and people moved around the barn, feeding the children and the dogs, and no doubt nursing their own sore heads, for the party had gone on long after she and Gervaise had left them.
Dawn gave herself a moment to bask in his embrace, in the novel sensation of his chest and hips at her back, one arm pinning her in place, his legs curled around hers. She smiled tenderly at the memory of his sweet yet fervent loving. Finally, she had seduced him. Only it felt more as if he had done the seducing, and that was even better, for she could not doubt the depth of his desire for her. Last night, from his astonishing appearance in the camp to the consummation of their wedding, had shown her a whole new side of him that both intrigued and devastated her. He was everything she had ever wanted or could want, and so much more. And she knew in her heart she would never recover from this.
But she would not think of the future, not now. She twisted her head around to see him. His eyes were open and smiling, and he loomed over to kiss her, openmouthed and sensual. Desire seeped into her bones. She pushed lazily against him and gave herself up to a more leisurely loving. And somehow, the conclusion was all the more intense for their efforts at discretion.
According to Aurora and several of the other women, men fell asleep after their marital exertions. Gervaise did not. He held her and kissed her until their heartbeats slowed to something approaching normal. And then he said softly, “What now? How long do you think we can stay here making love?”
“Now, I will fetch you breakfast. And then we may do exactly as we please.”
Under his avid observation, she slid into an old but pretty lilac gown and shawl that Aurora had left for her and descended the ladder into the main part of the barn. A couple of her cousins, weaving baskets near the foot of the ladder, grinned at her and nudged her as she passed, making ribald comments. Smiling tranquilly, Dawn merely walked on. There was no sign of her immediate family.
She found some fresh bread, cooked fish, and small ale and took it all back up to the loft.
“There,” she said as he tucked in with enthusiasm. “I knew you would eat breakfast in the right circumstances.”
“Well, this is certainly more pleasingly intimate than breakfast among my sisters and my mother.”
It had to be asked. “Are they angry with me? With you?”
He shrugged. “Worried about you. And Serena is angry with me. She thinks I drove you away. I’ve been blaming my mother, because that’s much more satisfying, but actually, the fault is mine.”
“There is no fault,” she said hastily, “except in my own misunderstanding. And pride. It is no matter. I’m glad you found me.”
He smiled into her eyes and her stomach dived as it had always done. “So am I.”
She dropped her gaze to her ale. “Will you stay today?”
“If you wish,” he said at once. “But I would rather return for my mother’s wretched dinner party. It will mollify her.”
She was prepared for it, but it still hurt. She would have liked the whole day and another night. But she managed to nod. “Of course.”
He seemed to catch her disappointment, for he took her hand with a rueful smile. “I’m sorry. Will you mind leaving your family so soon? If you say the word, I’ll consign the party to the dev
il, or come back in a couple of days to fetch you.”
She frowned, uncomprehending. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, don’t let me be selfish. Tell me what you would rather do. Do you wish to leave today or tomorrow or later?”
She blinked. “Me? You want me to leave?”
“Well, yes,” he said amused. “With me.” He searched her no doubt ludicrously stunned face and kissed her hand. “Dawn,” he said softly. “Did you think I would go alone? We are married.”
Emotion surged, choking her. “Not by your laws. Ezra has saved my honor and left you as free as before.”
“I haven’t been free since the moment I met you.” He cupped her cheek. “Did you really think I rode after you just to seduce you for one night? I had so many things to say to you, things I should have said long since. Things I still haven’t said because I couldn’t get near you yesterday until we were married, and then I couldn’t speak for sheer lust.”
She tried to laugh, but it sounded too much like a sob, so she cut it off and swallowed. She leaned helplessly into his hand and closed her eyes.
“I love you,” he whispered. “And I have every intention of marrying you before whatever law or God I need to. If only you’ll have me.”
“I have had you,” she managed.
He smiled and kissed her lips. “I remember. I have hopes it means you will consent to live with me, too.”
“In Kensington?” she asked doubtfully. Would it be so very bad? After this one night with him, anything would surely be better than never knowing another.
His breath caught. She didn’t know if he was angry or laughing. Perhaps he didn’t know either. “Of course not Kensington. In the castle. In Braithwaite House in London. We’ll get Grant to marry us. Or the Archbishop of Canterbury, I don’t much care, as long as it is done. I want you to be my wife, Dawn. My countess.”
Blackhaven Brides (Books 5–8) Page 83
