Gypsy Bond (5 page)

“Look at me,” he urged.

Her lids seemed too heavy to lift, but she complied, meeting his gaze with a soft, unfocused stare.

“You will remember this?”

Her answer was so low that he barely heard the one word.
“Always.”

It was enough. Leaning onto one elbow, he reached between them to cover her breast, his fingers seeking the hardened nipple. He squeezed until she cried out and he felt the pulsing of her inner muscles around him as she shattered. It was all he could do not to follow her into that bliss, but he held on, stroking her until the last of the tremors eased and she began to relax. Then, pulling free of her body, he finished against her stomach, his own release leaving him shaken and surprisingly weak.

He murmured to her, soft wordless sounds that eased them both,
then
he kissed her gently. As his mouth drifted over hers, soothing lips swollen from his earlier hard kisses, he slowly became aware of his surroundings, of the sounds of the night, their cooling skin. He didn’t want to move, so thoroughly sated was he, yet at the same time, he was wary with an edgy alertness.

They were alone; he was sure of it. Their final time together was a sweet secret they shared. Unlike in their youth, no further censure would fall on Juliet for their actions. But still, a veiled thought pushed at him as if he’d overlooked a shift on the outer edges of his consciousness. Something had changed, and he had the peculiar feeling life was never going to be the same.

~ Chapter 3 ~

Juliet closed the door behind her with a click and slid the heavy cloak from her shoulders, leaving it draped across the closest slipper chair. Marko had left her at the fountain near the back of the gardens, one of their meeting places when they were younger. It had been a short and final good-bye.

The blue and cream of the rug on the hall floor blurred as tears threatened, stinging in the back of her throat. She wanted nothing more than to run to her room and bury her face in her pillow. She would block out his last words and cling to the scent and feel of his body on hers as long as possible. As she moved toward the stairs, her brother’s voice hailed her from the open door of the library.

There was no denying James. He would send a housemaid after her if she refused to appear. Brushing a hand across her eyes, she thrust her hair back across her shoulders and tried to school her features into a smooth mask. A few candles and a weak blaze in the hearth were the only sources of light in the library. Thick cigar smoke mingled with the sharpness of aged brandy, making Juliet feel slightly queasy. James sat in a winged chair beside the fire with Lord Stowe in the opposite seat.

“I see you’ve been tumbling with the gypsy again,” James said, the habitual sneer in his tone more pronounced.

Inside, she flinched at the crude expression for what had been the most beautiful experience of her life. She refused to rise to the bait, having learned to disregard her brother’s opinion of her. “Did you want something, dear brother?”

His friend rose and moved to stand with his back to the small blaze. Reginald Stowe was dressed more casually than was seemly in her presence, his jacket thrown across the back of his chair. She had never realized how small a man he was and wondered if the current fashion of puffed sleeves on coats disguised the narrow shoulders of many of the men of her acquaintance. Or perhaps he only appeared small in comparison to Marko.

“Careful,” the man said with only the slightest hint of a slur to indicate how much brandy he had consumed. “You’re speaking of my future wife.”

“Wife!”

Juliet’s exclamation was ignored by the men.

“Look at her,” James said with a careless wave of one hand. “Her hair is down her back and she’s doubtless been used like a bitch in heat. I fail to understand your desire to take her to wife, but if you want the wench, she’s yours.”

The other man lifted his glass to his lips and drank deeply, his gaze never leaving Juliet. She thought she could feel the intensity of his stare against her as it roamed over her face and down the wrinkled and creased length of her skirt. A shiver ran down her back. She crossed her arms, grasping her forearms with her hands and hoping that he didn’t notice she was covering her breasts from his view.

“I enjoy the idea of having a spitfire in my bed,” he drawled. “It will save me the trouble of going to a brothel to find a woman with tastes that match my own.”

“I don’t recall hearing your proposal,” Juliet said, trying to keep her voice steady. Both men had obviously been drinking, not only now but also when they visited the gypsy camp. If she were lucky, by the time they woke tomorrow, the whole episode would be forgotten.

“It is no longer your choice.” James’ voice was hard with determination. “When your actions tonight become known, it is certain that Charlotte will refuse my suit. We must quiet the scandal immediately.”

Anger rose in Juliet and she took a quick step further into the room. “I’ll not pay the price for your failure to obtain a wife.”

“My failure, as you put it, is a direct result of your promiscuous ways.”

“My promiscuous –” She stopped, stunned at the insult. “You make it sound as if I’ve lain with half the village. I was married–”

“A make-shift ceremony of no moment,” he interrupted harshly. “Even your supposed husband recognized that he had no hold on you. He left without a backward glance as soon as it was made clear that you would not be joining him.”

So Marko had told the truth. James had been the one to send him away. “You had no right.”

“What I did was for the good of the family. We could never have shown our faces in polite circles if you had run off with the gypsy boy.”

She should be angry, but instead all she felt was sadness for the loss of young love. That moment in time could never be regained. Marko had moved on. He was now a man, a strong leader.  She had made her choice as well, electing to wither away quietly, rather than endure a loveless marriage. “For the sake of your pride, you ruined my life.”

“I’ve done nothing. You allowed yourself to be taken in by a scoundrel. More than once, I might add. I thought better of your sense. He is back again, taking what he wants, but he hasn’t proposed a real marriage has he?”

She couldn’t deny it, though she longed to with every beat of her heart. Her lips trembled and she pressed them together until she felt the sharp edges of her front teeth digging into the soft skin. She would not cry in front of James, though the pain of having her hopes dashed a second time was an open wound that she suspected would take months, if not years, to heal.

“I thought not,” he scoffed. “Charlotte has discreetly let it be known that she doesn’t wish to live under the same roof as you. If you are wed and move into your own home, she will accept my suit.”

“I’ve refused others who asked for my hand.”

James slammed his glass of brandy down on the small table next to him and straightened in his chair. “Father was too soft with you. I’ll brook no refusal.”

“Enough!”

Juliet turned her head sharply toward her brother’s friend. In the heat of the argument, she had forgotten he was in the room.

“I will woo my bride in my own way, James. Leave us for a few moments.”

Her brother lurched to his feet and brushed by her without a word, though his expression promised retribution. Silence held the room for a few moments as if the other man needed to marshal his thoughts. He watched her with a brooding stare that unnerved her.

Finally, she forced herself to speak. “Spare yourself further trouble. I will never marry.”

Carefully setting his glass down on the mantel behind him, he stepped across the room, stopping close beside her. Juliet struggled not to flinch as he reached to wrap a reddish-brown curl around his finger then smoothed it over her shoulder. His fingers brushed against her bare skin near her collarbone, lingering for long seconds. It was an intolerable intimacy. He would never have dared touch her in normal circumstances. She wondered if this show of disrespect was how she was to be treated the rest of her life.

“That would be a crime against nature,” he said slowly, “one that I can’t allow.”

“You would force me to wed as James wants to do?”

His dry chuckle surprised her and she turned her head, noting that his smile was not as pleasant as the tone of his voice. “Of course not, but do consider. Your gypsy lover has left you again. You might even now be breeding. What will you do if that occurs?”

She wanted to tell him that it was unlikely, given that Marko had pulled out at the peak of their passion, but she knew there was always the possibility. For a moment, she ached with the desire that it should be so, that she could hold a child of Marko’s in her arms. It would be some small piece of him that she could love as she endured the lonely years to come.

The truth must have shown on her face for he laughed in soft triumph. “So you want children.” He shrugged and let his fingers drift lazily down her upper arm. “And I need an heir. We can be of great use to each other.”

Gooseflesh was raised where his hand had traveled down her skin. “I – I don’t believe we will suit,” Juliet said through clenched teeth. Something about the man set her senses on alert.

“I believe you’re wrong about that.” His gaze was hooded as he studied her face. He raised his hand to brush the back of his fingers against her lips.

She turned her head away from his touch as he leaned in close. His breath was warm against her cheek.

“I know much about pleasing a woman. In time, you will welcome me into your bed.”

The thought of accepting another man into her body so soon after loving Marko repelled her. She couldn’t fathom ever considering it.

He stepped back as if sensing the rising level of her distress. “You brother is right about one thing; you are unlikely to receive another offer. Let us decide this thing now. We’ll be married as soon as the bans have been read.”

He had a point, one never far from her thoughts. Marko had released her and returned to the dark-haired beauty who shared his bed. Shouldn’t she move on as he had? It seemed weak and somewhat cowardly to sit and pine for him, condemning
herself
to a lifetime of being alone. Lord Stowe offered another solution, the very one that Marko wished for her.

She raised her hands to press her fingers against her eyes. She was so tired, but time was short. She must think. She must act. Or lose this chance forever. In desperation, she tried another tactic. “It isn’t fair to you, to be burdened with a woman who loves another and could be carrying his child.”

“I long for nothing more than the compensations you can offer.”

The words were polite but the tone conveyed his meaning only too clearly. Instinctively, she recoiled,
then
forced herself to consider the matter with her brain and not her emotions. As Reginald Stowe’s wife she would have wealth and a position in society. With what she knew of his reputation, it was unlikely that he would be a faithful husband, but once he had given her children, she would not care that he spent his nights elsewhere. It was not the relationship she had hoped for, but it was no better or worse than ones that young women of her acquaintance entered into every day.

After years of enduring sneers and snubs, she would finally have a home of her own. She could escape the prison of living under James’ thumb and create some measure of a normal life. She could move on.

Without Marko.

Swallowing hard, she held out her hand to the man before her. “I accept your proposal.”

~ Chapter 4 ~

Juliet stared out the window of the milliner’s shop, her gaze drawn across the street to a group of dark-skinned children playing with a stray dog. She’d seen for herself that gypsy children were raised by the entire tribe, scolded and petted equally by all adults. Though she’d heard rumors that the children were allowed to wander through the village alone, she suspected that there was someone nearby, guarding them closely.

They led a different life, one that she had once longed to be a part of. Now, she watched from the outside edge of their circle, much as she did her own society. The mere fact that she was betrothed to Lord Stowe had not restored her reputation or brought her friends calling. It would take time for them to accept her into their sphere again. Perhaps tomorrow, after the wedding, when she was settled at Stowe Hall, she would begin to see a change.