A Breath of Scandal (6 page)

Lara dressed quietly, grabbed a towel, soap, and clean clothing, and let herself out the door. The sun was just rising in the eastern sky when she joined a group of women on their way to bathe in a shallow pool fed by backwater from the firth. Instead of listening to their chatter, she let her thoughts turn to London.

Lara wasn’t looking forward to the season her father wanted her to have. Her skin wasn’t as white as that of the English misses with whom she’d have to compete. Her hair was a wild profusion of ringlets, inky black, not golden blond, and her eyes, tilted up at the corners, were far too exotic to be considered proper.

The years she’d spent at her father’s country home outside London had been for the most part happy ones, but a season in London frightened her. She couldn’t disguise the fact that she was part Gypsy, nor did she want to. But she didn’t have the heart to tell her doting father that her Gypsy blood would prevent her from achieving the success he wished for her. Lara knew she was attractive, but her foreign features would cause much talk and speculation. Regrettably, she couldn’t convince her father that she would be happier living in the country.

“Lara, when will we celebrate your marriage?” a girl named Roxy asked. “I saw you walking with your husband yesterday. He looks well, considering his near brush with death.”

“Soon,” Lara promised. “A few more days perhaps. When he’s strong enough to enjoy the celebration.”

“We’ve not had a wedding to celebrate in a very long time,” another young woman added somewhat wistfully. “I am looking forward to it.”

“Aye,” Roxy agreed excitedly. “Just today Pietro told my father that we must leave this place soon if we wish to reach the Lockerbie fair on opening day.”

While she bathed, Lara considered the upcoming celebration of her wedding to Drago. After the feasting and toasting, her marriage would become a fact … even if Drago and her own father refused to acknowledge it. Lara sighed. Once she returned to her father, her marriage would be real to no one but her people and herself.

Lara returned to camp with the others and helped her grandmother prepare breakfast. She filled a plate with boiled eggs, bread, and tea, and carried them to her wagon. Drago welcomed her with a smile that caused her breath to hitch.

“Where were you?”

“Bathing in the pool with the women. I’ll show you where it is later.”

“I’d like that.”

“I’ve brought breakfast. How do boiled eggs, bread, and tea suit you?”

“They’ll do.”

“I’m sorry we don’t have bacon, kidneys, and coffee.”

He grinned. “You’re making my mouth water.”

Lara sat the tray on the bench. When she looked up, Drago was smiling at her.

“Is something wrong?”

“Were you in bed with me last night or did I dream it?”

Hot color crept up her neck, staining her cheeks red. “You didn’t dream it. Sharing a bed is expected of us. Would you prefer that I sleep elsewhere?”

Julian pictured Lara sleeping in Rondo’s arms and felt his stomach lurch. The thought was revolting. “No, though I’m sure Rondo missed you last night.” The moment the words left his mouth, he wanted to call them back. Bloody hell, what was wrong with him? He had no business criticizing Lara’s morals.

“I’m sorry,” he said before she had time to react. “I shouldn’t have said that. It wasn’t appropriate.”

“I’ll leave you to your breakfast,” Lara bit out as she fled from the wagon.

“Damnation,” Julian muttered, frowning at his food. Lara was the last person in the world he wanted to hurt.

Julian bolted down his meal, tasting little of what he ate as he silently cursed himself for causing the stricken look on Lara’s face. But picturing Lara with another man, or selling herself at fairs as Gypsy women were known to do, made him angry as hell.

After breakfast Julian decided he felt well enough to venture outside on his own. The quicker he recovered, the sooner he could forget Lara’s snapping black eyes and lush lips. Julian did not notice Ramona enter the wagon after he left. Had he been there he would have seen her study the tea leaves in his cup.

Why did Lara climb in bed with him last night?
Would she return tonight? ’Twas obvious to him that she was offering herself to him. Was he fit enough to accept her offer if she crawled in bed with him tonight? He doubted it. But it wouldn’t be long. After considerable thought, Julian decided it would hurt nothing to avail himself of the fiery Gypsy wench’s body if she gave the slightest indication that she was willing.

The moment Julian stepped down from the wagon he was bombarded with greetings.

“Drago, does your wife know you’re out and about on your own?” someone called to him.

“When are we going to celebrate your marriage, Drago?” another man asked. “Everyone is looking forward to the feast and dancing. Wait until you see Lara dance. She is magnificent.”

Some merely waved, and Julian waved back, accepting their friendship in the manner in which it was offered. These people had accepted him as one of their own, and he vowed to keep them safe from his enemies. The only way he could be sure of their safety was to leave the moment he was well enough to travel. By that time his skin should have returned to its natural color.

Julian’s inspection of the campsite led him to a corral where a large number of horses were herded together. Some were of inferior quality, but most were prime horseflesh, the kind that would demand high prices at any fair in the country, or even the auction at Tattersalls. Julian wondered where the Rom had acquired such quality stock. Had they stolen them?

“Do you see anything you like?” Rondo asked as he came up to join Julian.

“You have some of the finest horses I’ve ever seen. Quite amazing, really. Are they stolen?”

Julian could have kicked himself the moment the words left his mouth. Not all Gypsies were thieves, just most of them. He could tell Rondo was insulted by the belligerent jut of his chin.

“A stallion and three blooded mares were gifts from … Never mind, ’tis none of your business. We bred them, and you see the results before you. The herd belongs to Pietro. We care for them and everyone shares in the profits when they are sold at fairs.”

Julian didn’t know whether to believe him or not. They were fine horses. He knew of few men willing to make gifts of their prime horses.

“Who cares for them?”

“Myself, for one. Others help from time to time.”

“Perhaps I can help. I’ve always been good with horses.”

“You? A smuggler?” He sneered. “I wouldn’t trust you with my dog.”

Julian sent him a startled look. “What makes you think I’m a smuggler?”

“ ’Tis obvious. Those men who came looking for you were rough sailors. The only ships that enter this cove are engaged in smuggling. We’ve seen them before but do not interfere. ’Tis none of our business. Why do they want to kill you?”

“I’m not a smuggler. I cannot tell you more without endangering your people.”

“What are you? Who are you?”

“I cannot say. Believe me when I say I will do my best to protect your people.”

“What about Lara? You are her husband. What are your plans for her?”

Julian shifted uncomfortably. “I’ll always be grateful to Lara for saving my life, but we both know a Romany ritual is not recognized in English courts. Nothing legally binding transpired between me and Lara. Once I leave, you are free to resume your relationship with her. If you will excuse me, I’ll continue my exercise.”

Julian could feel Rondo’s hot gaze on him as he walked away. He didn’t blame Rondo. Julian was an interloper among people who did not easily accept strangers. If not for Lara, he felt sure he would have been left on the shore to die.

Julian strolled back to camp. He was tired, and his wounds throbbed like the very devil, but at least he was mobile and gaining strength every day. Soon he would be well enough to return to London and continue his investigation.

Julian saw little of Lara that day. She went along with some of the women to a nearby village to buy supplies for their journey to Lockerbie. Ramona changed his bandages later that afternoon, and he felt so drained he fell asleep soon afterward. He awakened when Lara returned to the wagon to call him to supper.

“You will join us tonight, won’t you?” Lara asked. “My family would like it if you ate with them.”

“Of course,” Julian replied. “I’d like to speak with Pietro about helping with the horses anyway. I can present the idea to him tonight during the meal.”

“Are you sure you feel well enough?” Lara asked anxiously. “I wouldn’t want you to have a relapse.”

“Don’t fret, Lara. I’m well aware of my limitations. Can you tell me how to get to the pool? I’d like to bathe before I eat.”

Lara gave Julian directions, then left to help Ramona put the finishing touches on the meal.

Ramona and Pietro seemed pleased to have Julian join them when he returned from the pool.

“Do you have family somewhere who might be worrying about you?” Ramona inquired. “Perhaps you’d like to send word to them.”

“I have a sister who is probably wondering why I’ve been away so long, but she’s accustomed to my extended absences. My brother lives in the Highlands with his family, and would have no reason for concern.”

Ramona and Pietro exchanged speaking glances. “I told you Drago had no wife,” Ramona hissed into her husband’s ear. “I read his palm after he was brought to us, and I’ve studied the tea leaves in his cup on two separate occasions.”

Paying little heed to the whisperings of the Gypsy couple, Julian stared at Lara instead. She looked exceptionally beautiful tonight. Her tousled ebony curls gleamed with reddish highlights in the moonlight, and the flickering flames from the campfire gilded her skin a creamy gold. Tiny pinpoints of light danced in the dark centers of her exotically slanted eyes, giving mute testimony to her volatile nature. There was little Julian did not admire about the tempting Gypsy, but she was not for him.

“Dance for us, Lara!” someone shouted.

Instruments were brought out and the strains of a vigorous Gypsy melody filled the air. The jingle of tambourines and the energy of fiddles soon had all of them clapping and stomping their feet.

“Dance, Lara!” a chorus of voices urged.

Julian frowned when Rondo bowed before Lara and held out his hand. After a quick glance at Julian, Lara took Rondo’s hand. Immediately he swung her into a spirited dance, whirling her round and round, her flashing skirts flying high to reveal shapely legs. Their bodies swayed and twisted together seductively, like passionate lovers swept up in an ancient mating ritual. Julian’s gaze was riveted on Lara’s lithe body as she leaped into the air and glided like a feather on the wind into Rondo’s arms. Never had he seen such gracefulness, such wanton abandon. Never had he been so utterly beguiled.

Never had he felt such overwhelming jealousy.

Hands clenched, teeth grinding together, Julian wanted to jump up and separate the dancers, but of course he didn’t. He no longer wondered whether Rondo and Lara were lovers. No one but intimate lovers could dance together in such a manner.

Unable to stand the sight of Lara’s flashing thighs and heaving bosom, he quietly rose and returned to the wagon. He lit a candle, tore off his clothes, and threw himself facedown on the bed. The music seemed to go on forever, and he buried his head beneath the pillow to muffle the sound. He had no idea why it bothered him, but he didn’t like it one damn bit.

Julian was nothing like his brother Sinjun. In the past he had scolded Sinjun about his wicked ways so often he’d lost count. Julian was the steady, sensible brother, the one who made the rules and followed them. Sinjun had called him stodgy, and Emma thought him too strict. If they could see him now, lusting after a common Gypsy whore, they wouldn’t believe it. He hardly believed it himself.

He had cared deeply for Diana, the fiancée his father had chosen for him, and he would have been content to spend the rest of his life with her had she lived. She had given herself to him before their marriage, and Diana had been carrying his child when she died, but he couldn’t remember once lusting after her. He was too much of a gentleman for that. He still hadn’t recovered from her death, which had occurred two days before their wedding. The accident had been no accident, he’d discovered, but an attempt to end his life. The Jackal did not know that Diana had been riding alone in his coach that fateful day.

The memories still hurt after all this time. He still hadn’t found the man responsible for Diana’s death, but he was getting closer.

The music stopped and Julian let out a sigh of relief. But his relief was short-lived when Lara opened the door and ducked inside the wagon.

She approached the bed. “Aren’t you feeling well? You left early.”

“I’m fine,” Julian growled. “You and Rondo dance well together.”

“We’ve been doing it since we were children.”

Julian heard the rustle of clothing and stiffened. “What are you doing?”

“Getting ready for bed.”

“What about Rondo?”

“What about him?”

“Doesn’t he want you tonight? The way you were flashing your thighs and throwing yourself at him, I assumed you would go to him tonight. ’Tis obvious he wanted you.”

She sent Julian a quelling look. “Rondo and I are childhood friends. As for my dancing, ’tis in my blood. My body moves in rhythm to the music, independent of my mind. I have little control over it.” Her eyes narrowed, as if compelled by a sudden thought to speak. “Do
you
want me, Drago?”

“I doubt I’m capable of rising to the occasion tonight,” Julian said wryly. “But, aye, I suppose I do want you. Since I am incapable, maybe one of the other men …”

Lara’s gasp of outrage warned him he’d gone too far.

“Damn you, Drago!” she snarled. “I managed to control my temper while you were so ill, but now that you’re better, I won’t stand for your insults. I’m a Gypsy, nothing can change that, but you could at least disguise your contempt for me and my people while you’re living here. I’m sharing your bed because ’tis expected of me, not because I want anything from a
gadjo
.”