GypsyDukeEpub (30 page)

"Yes, I am that, brother. Of them," Michel explained.

"Piavta." Ardaix said finally.

"Let's drink to our health," Michel said. "Now the pliashka. Do not be afraid, just respond naturally."

What was that supposed to mean?

She had no time to discern this, as Ardaix stepped purposely before her, holding out a bottle of wine wrapped in a brightly colored silk handkerchief. A necklace of gold coins hung from the bottle.

Ardaix took the necklace of coins and put it around Kitty's neck, warmly embraced her, and whispered in her ear. "Bori." He smiled as he released her.

She returned his smile, amazed at the difference in his expression as he stepped back to the fire.

Her gaze shifted to John's, where a thoughtful expression rested, yet it was Michel who once again explained the significance of the ceremony.

"The necklace makes it clear to all that you are now engaged and not available as a bride to any other man."

Only engaged? Before that had time to sink in, Ardaix drank from the bottle of wine and passed it to the guests.

John moved closer to Kitty's side, giving her an encouraging smile. Whatever happened around them, she was thankful for the love that shone from his eyes. It was like a beacon for the rest of the night.

She felt yanked out of a dream when Michel pushed them forward, breaking the intense shared moment.

They were told to sit, as were the surrounding relatives and friends per Ardaix's instructions, who then took a small amount of salt and bread and placed it on Kitty's knees.

John tore off some of the bread, sprinkled salt thereon from Ardaix's hand, and ate it. He gestured for Kitty to do the same. As she swallowed, John leaned closer, holding her eyes with a fervent look. "The union of salt and bread symbolizes a harmonious future together for the groom and bride."

Everything after that, happened in a blur. There was loud clapping
and whistling as members of the clan moved to serve the feast to their guests. Bottles of wine flowed freely with vast quantities of food that Kitty was barely allowed to taste before she was pulled to her feet by the younger women of the crowd. John laughingly waved her off as her eyes beseeched him for help.

Musicians played, and there was singing and dancing, but Kitty didn't have an opportunity to observe much as she was hustled behind some trees and instructed in the art of dance.

A smiling, gypsy girl who called herself Marga informed her that the Tanana was a secret traditional dance rarely shown to outsiders.

Kitty felt her eyes fill with unshed tears at the unaccountable favor she was being given.

Marga held up a red kerchief, dabbing at the corner of Kitty's eye then tied it around her neck. She held out her hand to Kitty. "Come, you are ready to dance for your husband."

As Kitty and her companions stepped into the circle of dancing people, the music changed, dancers slipped away, until only Kitty and the young women remained.

All at once, the women began to move. Kitty followed each dip and sway as best she could, noting at one point that no musical instruments played, only the rhythm of the crowd accompanied them as close to a hundred people snapped their fingers to the movements of the dancers' bodies.

The tempo was so exact, the delivery of each beat so precise, she would never have thought two hundred hands produced it. It was more like a drum being beaten by one hand.

She noticed as the other girls danced around the circle, they tossed out a bewitching stare, a coy side-glance.

The next time she went past John, she tried it. She was bountifully rewarded when his mouth gaped open, and wine dribbled down his chin from the cup held to his face.

She laughed over her newfound power, forgetting the awkwardness of the dance as she continued to flirt with her husband each time she passed him.

John had given up all pretense of eating or drinking to sit mesmerized by her attentions. It was thrilling to see, and she laughed freely.

At a prearranged signal, Kitty knew it was time for the grand finish. The next time she appeared before John, the clapping hands would suddenly cease to the simultaneous last swirl of their skirts and snap of the dancers' fingers.

The end result was more dramatic than Kitty could have imagined. One second, they twirled faster and faster, their skirts arching out in time to the beat of finger snaps, the next, she faced John, one foot
pointed, her arms raised, as all movement and sound suspended.

Her chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breath, oblivious to anyone's admiration, save John's. That he gave in abundance in a caressing look that sent her stomach aflutter. When he stood and wrapped her in his arms, she was not a bit embarrassed by the familiarity, realizing that it was perfectly acceptable, even expected, from the Roma watching them.

They clapped and cheered when he bent to give her a passing kiss on the cheek.

"You are breathtaking," he whispered for her ears alone then drew her down beside him to finish their meal.

Food appealed very little; the excited atmosphere provided more than enough stimulation of the senses. Still, when John held out a morsel of food for her to take from his fingers, she obliged. In no other setting, could she imagine the Duke of Somerset seated on the ground, eating with his fingers and feeding his duchess.

He belonged naturally to this world. Would he miss this expanded family when he resumed his place at Somerset Park?

Kitty was distracted from her musings by the sight of Robert, future Viscount, dancing with Michel, Rasvan, and the other men. Another incongruous sight.

She and John shared an amused look, and Kitty collapsed against his shoulder, laughing with delight. The gypsies had certainly loosened them all up.

When Kitty would have held up her glass for more wine, John shook his head, handing her a cup of water. "I think you've had enough stimulant for one day, darling."

It had been an exceedingly long day, what with her kidnapping, escape, wedding, and gypsy celebration.

Her head had begun to droop when Maria once more stood before them, tears in her eyes. She invited Kitty to stand, and after one failed attempt to oblige, John gave her a push up.

Maria turned Kitty around and unbraided her hair, running her fingers through the long tresses and making admiring sounds. Then she kissed Kitty. A throng of weeping women kissed her before she was passed back to Maria.

Maria slid the scarf from around Kitty's neck. "Your diklo," she said. "Now you are married woman."

Ardaix joined Maria, and John stood. His eyes, Kitty noticed, darted back and forth, as if he didn't know what would come next. His surprise seemed as great as hers when Ardaix held out a leather pouch, heavily laden, and tied with a leather thong.

Ardaix dropped the pouch in Kitty's outstretched hand. "Bori, your
darro for your father. To compensate him for the loss of an obviously able worker."

John could only stare, thankful his mouth didn't hang open.

Kitty had accepted this process with a slightly bewildered look on her face, but John knew the full significance. A bori was a daughter-in-law, and only the parents of the groom paid the darro, or dowry, as the ton would call it. Although in gypsy society, the dowry was a little backwards. The groom's family was compensating the bride's parents for the loss of potential earning power of their daughter.

John shook his head. Why in the world would Ardaix part with such an obviously large sum of money, when John had never officially been adopted into the clan? He didn't understand the honor bestowed on him and Kitty, but he was thankful, for Kitty's sake.

It was time for the bride and groom to be borne away for their wedding night. Instead of sleeping in a tent, John had arranged for he and Kitty to have their own wagon, newly purchased, furnished, and prepared by Michel.

When they departed the next day, he intended to give it to the clan in thanks for all they'd done for him. In his eyes, a small recompense for the years of shelter, but a gesture large enough to bring a refusal from Ardaix. That's why Michel had been instructed not to mention the gift until after he and Kitty departed.

As John and Kitty stood before the door of their wagon, the guests walked past, dropping sums of money in Kitty's palms. When her hands were too full to hold any more, they filled John's hands, and still they came.

John was most disconcerted to see the visiting tribe members give he and Kitty their hard-earned coin, but there was nothing he could do about it. Kitty had unknowingly obliged the man and his tribe by placing him in debt to her.

Did the lad have the means to earn such a large sum, or would he yet find himself thrown out of the gypsy families? As far as John was concerned, death was too good for someone who'd harm Kitty, but his joy on this night had put him in a more forgiving frame of mind.

When the lad in question stumbled before them, John felt Kitty stiffen at his side, but she held her head high. The lad was no longer bound, but the brawny-looking men on either side of him proved they weren't giving him any opportunity to escape.

John gave him a look of pure loathing, then felt, rather than saw, Kittty's disapproval. He purposely took a deep breath and lightened his countenance. He felt her rigid form relax against him.

"Who are you?" he demanded of the boy.

"Bratu," he answered, obviously trying to display no fear, but John had enough experience to recognize the look.

"You are in pazorrhus to your family."

Bratu nodded, lifting his thin, pointed chin even further.

"If you wish for work to earn enough coin to repay the debt, you may come to my estate." John leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. "But you will have to ask for work like anyone else, and if you ever touch my wife or my family again, no one will stop me from killing you."

John turned, pulling Kitty along with him. The last thing he saw before shutting the door behind them was Robert, lifting one hand to his brow in a comical salute.

Kitty felt relaxed from numerous glasses of wine, until she saw the look on John's face. Here was the predator, advancing toward her with but one purpose, to claim a long-awaited prize.

"What…what is pazorrhus?"

John smiled at her. Could he hear how quickly her heart beat? Did it amuse him?

"Because you ordered leniency, Bratu, as well as his clan, is under a debt to us." He took a step closer, his eyes ever watchful, drawing Kitty to move towards him. "According to the third law of the husbands, a Gypsy must make the greatest sacrifices to repay the pazorrhus to one of his brethren, even though he be of another clan." He took another step, and Kitty felt emboldened to follow suit. "Bratu will be deemed infamous and eventually turned out of their society if he doesn't seek to extricate himself from the state of debt to his tribe, since they resolved his debt to you."

With that, John closed the gap between them completely, ending any further discussion for some time. A very pleasant time, thought Kitty, as she drifted off to sleep in his arms.

In the middle of the night, an unusual sound brought Kitty out of a sound sleep. She was terrified when she couldn't remember where she was or see in the darkness. The harsh animal sound roared again, and she bolted upwards.

John sat up beside her. "What is it, darling? Forget where you are?"

Kitty jerked at the blanket, mindful that she had no garment and suddenly bashful though it was pitch dark in the wagon. "What was that sound? It's horrible!"

A loud growl sounded again, and she flung herself against John's chest. "That!"

John put his arms around her and dragged her back to the bed. "Carpathian bear. Do not worry. It is caged…" he yawned, "and harmless, nonetheless."

"A bear…in the camp."

"A trained bear. Now go to sleep, unless there is something else
you'd rather do?"

Kitty giggled. His meaning quite obvious from the way he nuzzled the hair at her nape, leaving soft kisses along the slope of her neck.

He pulled away. "You'd be better off sleeping, love. Tomorrow will be difficult."

Then he rested one hand on her back and caressed her hair until Kitty felt secure enough to close her eyes and fall asleep. The last thing she remembered was John's mouth against her ear. "I love you, Kitty. Thank you for waiting for me."

The next day when she rose, she confronted a whirl of activity. As she left the wagon to find John, she saw two gypsies tossing knives to each other. Jugglers. John had never mentioned that. She heard a sound and looked overhead to see a man walking a tight-rope. These gypsies had all sorts of talents.

Even more shocking was the sight of one woman at the fire, warming close to a half-dozen snakes in her bosom and another woman calmly feeding the enormous bear Kitty had heard during the night.

She quickly changed her mind about approaching the fire for any breakfast.

A loud clinking noise drew her attention, and Kitty wandered away. She found a gypsy man repairing a pot, a large assortment of battered pots and pans at his side.

She turned and barreled into John's broad chest.