Bewitched (Bantam Series No. 16) (20 page)

She laughed a little at that, but she knew that it was true.

She had not only nearly lost him through the murderous intentions of his cousin, but also, believing it was in his best interests, she had attempted to run away with her tribe and break the bond which bound them to each other by some indefinable magic.

After the wedding they had dinner, but it was a very different feast from the one they had enjoyed the night before.

Course succeeded course, served by powdered footmen on crested, silver dishes. There had been champagne to drink, but now it was in crystal glasses and not in the fabulous jewelled goblets from which they had drunk around the fire in the woods.

The Earl of Glencairn told them stories of the McCairn Clan; their fights and feuds and the part they had played in Scottish history.

Sir Algernon related strange signs which other families besides the McCairn’s bore, and repeated again and again how delighted he was that it was his knowledge which had united Saviya and her father.

There was so much to talk about; so much that was interesting and amusing. But the Marquis did not only wish to be alone with Saviya; he also remembered that the following day they were starting on a journey that would carry them to Spain.

“It is strange that I should have chosen Spain for our honeymoon,” he said to the Earl.

“You must visit Conchita’s relations,” the Earl replied. “I will give you letters of introduction and you will learn if you have not visited Spain before how very beautiful its women are.”

“To be aware of that I have only to look at my wife,” the Marquis answered.

It had been altogether a very satisfactory day, he told himself, when finally he knocked gently on the communicating door between his own and Saviya’s bed-rooms and without waiting for an answer entered.

The room was in darkness save for the light from the flames in the fireplace.

It might have been expected, the Marquis thought, that Saviya would have a fire. It was so much a part of the Gypsy way of life, it was in fact almost a sacred symbol amongst them.
But the heat of the day had passed and tonight there was a chill wind blowing outside, so the fire was in fact a necessity.

He walked across the room and in the darkness the bedposts reminded him of the trunks of the trees which had encircled them last night.

Saviya was sitting on a white bear-skin rug in front of the fire.

The Marquis noticed that she had pulled the cushions from the chairs and placed them around her.

But she was sitting upright, her long dark hair covering her to below the waist.

There was the scent of flowers but now they were in vases on the side-tables. There was also the exotic fragrance of Saviya’s hair, that strange, haunting perfume which the Marquis had noticed that first time when he carried her in his arms after he had knocked her down with his Phaeton.

He stood looking down at her, very tall and handsome in his long brocade robe.

As she lifted her face there was a smile on her lips and an expression in her eyes which made his heart turn over in his breast.

“You are very beautiful, my precious.”

There was a depth in his voice to which she vibrated.

“I want you to ... think so.”

“Could I ever think anything else?”

The firelight was on her face and he wondered if any other woman could look so alluring, so mysterious and at the same time so utterly and completely desirable.

There was a sudden gust of wind in the chimney and the creeper outside the windows tapped against one of the panes.

“There is a cold wind tonight,” the Marquis said in an absent-minded voice as if he was thinking of something else. “I am glad we will sleep in a bed.”

“Are you sure of ... that?” Saviya asked.

Now he saw there was that faintly mocking smile on her lips that had entranced him when they had first met.

He reached down to lift her to her feet but as he did so her arms went round his neck and she pulled him down to her.

“Saviya!” he said hoarsely.

Then he felt her lips seek his and as his mouth took possession of her he could feel her heart beating against his.

“I love you!” he wanted to say.

But he was swept away by an indescribable magic—a spell so blinding, so compelling that they were both lost in an ecstasy and rapture for which there were no words.