Gypsy Lady (19 page)

The next day passed uneventfully, and very slowly,
for Jason was eagerly awaiting the evening and Tamara's arrival. Wisdom made
him avoid Brownleigh's—he wondered how long it would take for Elizabeth to
gain control of herself—and having no pressing errand or plans, he spent most
of the day cooling his heels at the inn. It was mid-afternoon when Squire
Hampton, a middle-aged widower, entered the common room of the inn. Jason had
been introduced to Hampton some days before, and now bored by the inactivity,
he was more than happy to have company for a glass of ale. When Hampton discovered
that Jason was staying alone, he insisted that Jason join him for dinner that
evening. Unable to excuse himself, Jason had cordially accepted the squire's
impulsive invitation.

Jason had hoped Tamara
would arrive before he left, but as she hadn't by the time he was dressed and
his curricle brought round, he had left word with the innkeeper and had told
Pierre to expect her.

It had been a pleasant
evening at the squire's, made more so by the discovery that several gentlemen
he already knew were also there. He had been momentarily disconcerted to find
Edward Tremayne, the earl of Mount, as one of the guests, but since that
elegant gentleman had smiled and asked how he was settling in at The Fox, he
drew a relieved sigh. He hadn't been sure Elizabeth would keep her mouth shut
about last night. But it seemed she had—or at least she had not informed her
father. As the hour grew late, he became impatient to be gone, and as soon as
he could, he politely took his leave of the squire, his thoughts as he drove in
the silver moonlight being on his bed. More precisely they dwelt upon the
delightful wench he would find there, and remembering the feel of Tamara's soft
lips crushed against his, he felt an instant response from his body. He
couldn't remember when he had hungered after a wench like he did the little
gypsy. And remembering Elizabeth and last night, his desire for the
black-haired baggage had nothing to do with his having been celibate lately! He
grinned to himself and urged his English thoroughbreds to greater speed.

It was only a short time
later when his curricle swept into the stable yard of the inn. Throwing the
reins to Jacques, he leaped from the vehicle and rapidly crossed to the inn.
The innkeeper met him as he entered the narrow hall, and Jason asked, "Did
the wench arrive?"

The innkeeper gave him a
peculiar glance and nodded slowly. Whistling softly to himself, Jason was about
to climb the flight that led to his rooms when Pierre stopped him and inquired
politely if he would need his services this evening.

Jason, a
devilish twinkle in his green eyes, laughed, "I think not!
There are some things a
man prefers to do for himself. And laying a wench is one of
the
them
!"

"She's certainly not
in your usual style," Pierre said dryly.

Jason raised one black brow
and teased, "Could it be Tamara has ruffled your dignity? She's definitely
a spirited piece."

"Of
course not!"
Pierre replied stiffly. "She was so bundled up I couldn't see her, and
your taste is your own business."

"I'm glad you see it
that way. After all, it would be a terrible thing if I offended my valet's
taste."

Slightly miffed, Pierre
said a cool good night and retired, while Jason quickly mounted the stairs to
his rooms. He went first into the spare bedchamber but finding no signs of
occupancy, swiftly crossed through the darkened rooms to his own bedchamber,
where one small candle near the bed was glowing fitfully. The pleasing scent of
perfume drifted to his nostrils as he stood on the threshold, and there was a
satisfied smile on his mouth as he noted the colorful pile of feminine clothing
tossed on a chair near the huge bed. The ruby hangings were drawn, concealing
the interior from his gaze, but he saw the curtains move slightly and heard the
bed creak as the occupant shifted her position.

His smile grew, and he
called softly, "Tamara, are you asleep?" He had to strain his ears
before he heard a whispered reply.

Striding up to the curtained
bed, he reached out for the concealing folds and she whispered, "Please,
sir, douse the candle and join me. I have waited hours for you."

He attempted to pull the
curtains aside, but she held them tightly shut from the other side and said in
a low pleading voice, "Please, do not shame me; no one has ever seen me
naked before! Please leave it shut and blow out the light. Grant me this small
favor?"

Laughing under his breath,
Jason stepped away from the bed and its tempting contents. In his mind's eye, he
could see her crouched there, that glorious black hair tumbling almost to her
alabaster hips, and impatiently he stripped off his clothes and tossed them in
an untidy heap on the floor. Pierre would wring his hands and weep over such
sacrilegious treatment, but at the moment, Jason's only concern with his
clothes was that he be out of them! It took just a second longer to douse the
candle, and the room was plunged into blackness. He thrust aside the curtain,
but his reaching hands met only empty darkness.

"Tamara?" he
questioned low.

"Here, sir." Her
answer drifted to him from the far side of the bed.

A second later, he had her
locked in his hungry embrace. Her mouth parted easily beneath his as she
pressed against his muscled body, and urgently his hands roamed over her slim
form. Suddenly, he stiffened with outraged surprise and, cursing, pushed her
clinging body away.

"Who are you?" he
growled uncertainly.

"Only Tamara, your
little love who longs for your embrace,"
came
the muffled reply as her arms reached out for him again. He escaped their
clutching hold and leaping from the bed quickly struck a flint and lit the
candle. Holding the light high, he tore back the ruby folds and stared with
mingled disbelief and anger at the naked woman before him.

Ilone, a malicious smile
revealing her blackened and rotting teeth, stared insolently back. Breasts,
shriveled and wrinkled, hung nearly to her waist while coarse, gray hair stood
out from her head, giving her the appearance of a witch. Naked, she sat unconcernedly
before the angry young man, her good eye watching him spitefully.

Jason, frowning blackly in
the gloom, decided after his first astonished glance that he had never seen
such a hideous hag. But more important, he knew a raging anger that nearly choked
him. With difficulty he suppressed the blind urge to wring this woman's scrawny
neck, and his voice was thick as he snarled, "What the hell are you doing
here? Where's Tamara?" Even as he asked he knew the answer. She had
planned cleverly, the little bitch!

Ilone gave a cackle of ugly
laughter and said, as she had been told, "Tamara was unable to come
tonight, and because she knew you would be lonely, she sent me as a token of
the high esteem in which she holds you!"

At Ilone's words his eyes
narrowed, and his whole body stiffened tautly at the deliberate insult.
"Get out!" he said icily. He wasn't going to exchange insults with
this old hag. His argument was with Tamara!

Hastily, Ilone dragged on
her clothes, furtively glancing at Jason's ominously still form. She could
feel the waves of frustration and hot anger radiating from him and prayed he
would control the obvious blazing temper that was burning through him at least
until she had made her escape. Jason remained by the bed, frozen and silent as a
statue until after Ilone had left; then cursing he violently slammed the candle
down, nearly causing it to fall from the holder, and with quick angry strides
crossed to the wardrobe. Viciously he yanked on the buckskins, a murderous look
on his dark face.

Play him for a fool, would
she? Well, that pale-skinned witch would discover it wasn't such a wise thing
to do! Before this night was over she'd plead for his "high esteem,"
and she'd be lucky if he didn't strangle her! He'd enjoy the feel of that slim
white neck between his crushing hands.

Jason let the big black
stallion gallop unhampered at a hard, fast pace for a few miles and then as the
worst of that first white-hot blaze of temper abated, he slowed the racing
animal and brought him under control. His thoughts were unpleasant as they
dwelt on Tamara. She had insulted him as he had never been insulted in his
entire life. What's more, she had struck a vicious blow at his male pride, and
for that, he was unable to laugh off the little comedy enacted in his room. It
seemed all she did was tease and trick him. Well, this time she wasn't getting
away with it!

Silently, he came upon the
sleeping gypsy encampment. He left the horse tied some ways back and stealthily
stalked the quiet camp. He knew exactly where the caravan he sought was
located, for yesterday, as Tamara had walked away from him, his eyes had
followed her slim form, and he had made a mental note of which caravan she had
entered. It was set a little apart from the others, and now that fact caused a
grim smile to cross his face.

He crept to the darkened
caravan and silently entered. Hesitating, he stood just inside the doorway as
the moonlight, filtering in from the small
window,
cast a queer gray, murky light over the interior. Dimly he could make out the
small table and chairs. His eyes narrowed when his questing gaze found the bed
with its sleeping occupant. He crossed to the unsuspecting sleeper and stood
staring down at her sleeping form. Her back was to him, and he couldn't see her
features, but he was certain she was smiling in her sleep at her cleverness in
dealing with him tonight. And as he stood staring, he felt a wave of icy anger
course through his veins.

Moving swiftly, he pinned
her down, the weight of his own body crushing her motionless, while one hand
effectively stilled her frightened cry and his other held a knife at her
throat. Exactly what he planned to do beyond this point was uncertain, even to
him, but any plans he may have had disappeared abruptly when a shaft of silver moonlight
revealed that the struggling woman beneath him wasn't Tamara! Shock caused him
to momentarily loosen his iron grasp, and Reina nearly succeeded in escaping
before his own quick reflexes reacted, and he clamped her prisoner.

Silently, they glared at
one another in the dim light. Reina, recognizing Jason's hard face above her,
relaxed beneath his muscled body. Thoughtfully she took in the black hair
drooping across his forehead, the blazing green eyes and the wide, mobile
mouth. Tamara was a fool, she decided. A clever woman would work hard to bind
such a man as this one closely to her. Feeling his long, lithe body crushing
her frail form, she wished she were forty years younger. Ah, how she would have
loved him! Even now, she felt a faint, almost forgotten swirl of desire. Bah!
she
thought suddenly—Tamara was a silly virgin. She should
thank the heavens that this man desired her.

Jason, staring angrily into
the wrinkled old face before him, cursed under his breath, long and with
feeling. This seemed to be his evening to find only wretched old women wherever
he sought the warm, slim body that was beginning to haunt him.

Suppressed fury in every
word, he growled, "If you
so
much as breathe
heavily, I'll cut your throat. Do I make myself clear?"

Reina nodded, and
cautiously Jason removed his hand from her mouth and sat up. Reina lay
motionless, watching him warily.

Coldly, he asked,
"Where is Tamara?"

Reina snorted and lied,
"Clive has her. You didn't suppose he'd leave her unprotected knowing you
were sniffing about her heels!" She watched with sly interest the muscle
that jerked tightly near his mouth. Ho ho, my fine buck was in a rage, and
maliciously, for her own enjoyment, she added fuel to the already smoldering
fire by saying, "Tamara thought you too forward. She is a spirited young
wench and prefers to do her own choosing."

Impatiently, he shrugged
and with slitted eyes, questioned, "When will she return?"

"Why? What good will
it
do
? She has made it clear she finds you not to her
taste."

"I wish to see for
myself that she finds me so! I think you
lie
, old
woman. Tamara is only trying to drive up her price, for if she found me so
distasteful, she would not have let me nearly lay her in the meadow
yesterday."

Surprised but hiding it,
Reina wondered why Tamara hadn't seen fit to tell her of that meeting in the
meadow. Staring intently at the young man before her, she came to a decision
and said slowly, "Tomorrow, in the evening, there is to be a gypsy
wedding. Tamara will be here then."

She saw the flash of his
teeth as he grinned in the darkness and heard the low rumble of laughter he
gave. He relaxed slightly and, a speculative gleam in his eyes, questioned,
"Old witch, tell me. Am I to leave here without you screaming the place
down?"

Chuckling, Reina said
drily, "Your argument is with Tamara. Leave me to sleep in peace."
Then she surprised him by turning her back and saying, "Latch the door as
you depart."

Smiling to himself, Jason
made his way to the horse. He'd been effectively brought to a standstill by two
old women and an impudent baggage. He was still furious but realized that
Tamara had won this little skirmish. There was nothing more he could do
tonight.