Curse of the Gypsy (36 page)

“I can’t promise anything, Anne. I only know I don’t want to go on without you and I would rather we are married than not.”

She smiled at the simple truth, but then asked, staring up at him in the shadow of the cabin, “Why? Tony, why did you keep beating the man, rather than just … sending him away, or … or censuring him strongly.”

He laughed out loud, throwing his head back. “Perhaps the ideal gentleman would have done just that, but I wanted him to remember me, to remember what happened when he crossed me.” His dark eyes flashed with remembered anger. “He’ll never cross me again.” He took in a long breath and let it out slowly, then folded her in his arms, holding her tightly. “I cannot continue like this, wanting you and not knowing if you will ever … please, Anne,” he said. “Tell me what you feel for me, honestly. I shall go mad if you don’t.”

Her heart pounded and she leaned back and stared up into his dark eyes, but he said not another word. She glanced over at the cabin, then pulled away from him, took his hand, and led him to the door. Once there, she put her arms around him and turned her face up to his. He kissed her and warmth flooded her body.

Let go
, a tiny voice inside her murmured.
Let go! There will never be another moment like this one. Just let go.

She took his hand again and led him inside the cabin, closing the door behind them.

Twenty-four

It was as she remembered it from her one late-night viewing, a tiny one-room cabin with a table—on which a vase of fresh flowers stood—a few chairs, a fireplace and … an enormous bed. A bed that was made up with fresh linens. She paced around the room then turned to him.

He smiled, a slight turning up of his gorgeous lips. He was so handsome it was daunting, but a stern voice in her inner heart warned her not to focus on his appearance. That wasn’t what mattered, and even now she was becoming so accustomed to his handsome face and form that what she looked for was in his eyes. It was his strength and heart that mattered, and she had fallen in love with him for his sterling character, not his beautiful face.

She took a long trembling breath and went to him, framing his face in her hands. The faint green light that filtered through the trees and window cast a highlight that just touched his cheekbones and square jaw, one side purpled with a bruise. One stubborn stray lock of hair drooped over his broad forehead, and she swept it back, staring into his eyes. Standing on tiptoe, she touched his lips with hers, closing her eyes and feeling the muffled explosion of breath as he caught her to him, his strong arms around her, lifting her from the floor.

Waves of yearning love shuddered through her from his body and in one movement he swung her up into his arms, holding her close, bundled to him, every part of her body connected to him. He carried her to the bed and gently put her down, shedding his jacket, twisting it into a ball and tossing it across the room, then pulling off his boots, dancing around while he worked himself out of them and tossed them aside. She chuckled at the performance. Then he crawled across the bed, pulled her into his arms and kissed her with hungry force until she gasped in protest.

“Gently, Tony, gently!” she murmured against his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” he said on a shaky laugh, moving slightly to rest on his elbow, stretched out beside her. “But this journey north has been torture. And then day before yesterday … I saw the fear in your eyes, the doubt. I thought I’d lost you forever and nearly went mad.” With trembling hands he undid the pins in her hair and it tumbled around her shoulders in riotous abandon.

She sighed and chuckled, feeling a feminine gush of pleasure at his craving for her, but the smile died as he began kissing her neck and running his hand down her body. Trepidation threaded through her. As much as she had enjoyed the sexual experiences with him, it was dangerous, and she knew it. Each sexual contact with him could leave her with child, if she wasn’t already pregnant. But her thoughts hazed as his kisses became warmer and her resolution faltered. They were playing with fire.

Playing with fire.

Fire. She was aflame with the heat of need.

He was kissing her again and had worked his way down from her neck to her bosom. Quickly, with fumbling fingers, he unlaced her simple gown and pushed it off her shoulders. She protested, “Tony, that is most uncomfortable, the fabric bunched up like that under my shoulders.

“Then take it off, my lady, take it off!”

As they made love, she gazed up at him, staring, taking in her fill of his rapturous expression, release making him younger, wilder, a more lovable version of the hard, impatient, brutal man he could often be. He relaxed and sank down on her, his full weight pushing her into the feather mattress. It was a comforting weight, that of protection and adoration and togetherness. Adrift in love, she felt the awful events of the day before fade away, to be replaced by a sensation of the world slipping into place and her life becoming what she wanted. She was loved and she knew it.

A few hours disappeared in slumber.

Darkefell awoke, his eyes gritty from deep sleep, the kind of restful slumber he had heard of but seldom experienced. And then he understood why he was so rested, so blissfully fulfilled. Anne was at his side: he heard her soft breathing, felt the warmth of her near-naked body. He roused and raised himself on one elbow, watching her. The angularity of her face had a pleasing symmetry he could only study while she slept. She was self-conscious when he examined her too closely, as if her appearance had any possibility of depreciating his adoration of her. His love continued to deepen until now he could not imagine a life apart from her. She
must
marry him, and if he had to beg, plead, she would agree. Her kindness would not withstand the appeal he was ready to lay at her feet, for she held in her hands every hope of future happiness he could ever imagine.

As she slept he lit the fire in the fireplace, for it was beginning to get a little chilly in the cabin as the sun sank to its rest, then he washed himself thoroughly. He was glad that he had told the others at Ivy Lodge that Anne would be dining with him at the castle. No one expected her, not even her maid. This was their time and he had planned for it carefully. He had stocked the cabin with his own two hands, not trusting any wretched telltale servant. If Osei had been there, he could have trusted his secret intentions with that steadfast friend, but other than that, not a soul, not even Julius. He would not risk arch references and his twin’s often ill-timed playfulness and teasing.

Darkefell had brought several bottles of wine, cheese, crusty bread, Greek olives, and sweets for his love. He was not anxious for her to awaken, so everything he did, he did quietly. She needed more sleep even after slumbering as long as she did through the previous night. She was far more sensitive in the heart of her than she ever let on, this he knew. She needed to be strong for her father and for her brother, but not for him. He would be strong for her.

Naked, he stood and gazed out the window to the darkening woods, relishing the shadows and soft greenness of early evening, but relishing more the thought that he had all the time in the world to make her love him as much as he loved her. A twitch between his shoulder blades made him shrug and turn. She was staring at him. Lazily, he watched her eyes scan his body. His heart pounded and blood coursed through him at her intimate gaze. “What are you thinking?” he asked, strolling across the room to her, then standing above where she lay on her side, her head propped on one hand that was tangled in her long silky hair.

“I don’t think I’m capable of thought this minute,” she said, her voice husky. They came together once more, making love slowly, passion spiraling deeper into their twined bodies until the thread tied them together irrevocably. At rest, finally, they lay tangled together with the sheets as the warmth of the fire bathed their naked bodies. “I love you,” he whispered against her neck. “Anne, I love you so.”

“Are you ever going to ask me again, Tony?” she murmured against his shoulder.

He started up, wondering if he had heard right.

She smiled weakly, running her hands up his arms to his shoulders. “Or given that I have refused you twice, perhaps I should ask you? Tony, will you marry me?”

His body jolted, for he had desperately seized this lovemaking, aware that as determined as he was to marry her, he had no control over her. She had been terribly shocked by the fight she had witnessed and it struck him then that she could go home and leave him forever if it was her wish. After dizzying relief flooded him, he groaned, “Leave it up to you to take that little crumb away from me, the male prerogative to ask the one necessary question.”

“Did I do wrong?” she cried, her eyes widening and her hands gripping his shoulder muscles. “I’m sorry, Tony, but you were distracted, and I thought you may not have heard me, so I thought I may as well …”

He closed his mouth over hers and kissed her deeply, feeling her naked flesh melded to his as if they melted together in a puddle of amorous warmth. “Yes, my lady,” he said, releasing her mouth, “I accept your proposal.”

“Oh, good, because …”

He kissed her again.

“Are you going to keep shutting me up this w—”

He kissed her again, but then let her come up for air. “Just to sate my curiosity,” he said, gazing down at her, her tumbled dark hair spilled across the snowy pillow like dark silk ribbons, “which, if not as violently active as your own, does have its lively side, what made you decide for connubial bliss at my side?”

Anne, feeling exposed, pulled a cover up over her and wondered if she ought to be honest. Would he be insulted or pleased? She gazed up at his dear handsome face and put her palm against his cheek, feeling the incipient bristles that had sprouted in the hours they had been in the cabin.

Evening had come, and with it a storm. Wind rose then wailed, sweeping in a great wash of rain, howling over the cottage, battering the walls and rattling the windows. Then the rain settled in, drumming steadily on the roof, enclosing them in a cocoon of warmth in the middle of a storm. Like their life together would be. No matter what, the cocoon of their love would protect them from the storm of life. Peace stole through her and she had no desire to know what anyone else was doing, or if they missed her, or if she was wanted anywhere else. They would all manage without her for a while.

“Well?” he asked, propping himself up on one elbow and gazing at her, distracting her terribly by slipping his hand under the covers and caressing her breast, letting his hands drift down to her stomach. “You’re not answering, and I fear I must demand an answer to such an important question.”

“Stop!” she cried, grabbing his hand. “Tony, if you really want any kind of coherent answer, you must stop.”

“All right, but just for a moment. Tell me, then,” he said, putting his hand above the covers and watching her eyes. “Why now?”

“It was something you said yesterday,” she admitted. She examined his eyes, the dark shading underneath, the thick fringe of lashes. “You told me that there are many people around today who will remember me forever. By marrying you and losing my name I thought I would be erasing myself from the pages of history, losing everything about myself.”

He gazed steadily down at her. “And now?”

“How foolish I was,” she said softly. “I was so set on mourning what I would lose in marriage that I failed to rejoice in what I had already gained in finding a loving heart and a steadfast soul.” She caressed his face. “We’re different, you and I, but that is as it should be, for man and woman were created to be different. When we marry, history may record me simply as another in a long line of Lady Darkefells, but those who are important will always know me as Anne. I cannot change the world, nor alter how women are perceived or recorded. But one person at a time, I can in my life with you show that a woman has a heart and courage and resolve.”

His smile had faded but love shone from his dark eyes. He would not be quiescent much longer, for she saw another kiss coming on, the first of many more. She hurriedly said, “For a while I didn’t trust you. I feared your dominant strength.” She shivered. “I still don’t understand that part of you. But …” She smiled up at him, threading her fingers through his hair. “I know better in my heart. I know I can manage you perfectly well. You
need
me to be exactly who I am. You want me to be me, with all my weaknesses and strengths.” She stared into his dark eyes. “I trust you. I trust you with my life, and with my
love
,” she whispered.

He closed his eyes, his whole body shuddering, as if her gift of love to him, the gift of herself, was something that took him over, her life and his joined together. “I wish I had just thought to say it that way, but yes, it’s all true.” He opened his eyes. “I need you
exactly
as you are, and though I have no doubt we will fight and argue—I will rage, you will storm—we will always come back to this, who we are together, which is more than we are apart.”

“I love you,” she whispered, the hushed patter of the rain carrying her sigh.

“Thank God!” he said, and kissed her. “Say it again; say you’ll marry me.”

“I’ll marry you, Tony.”

Anne fell asleep in his arms, but Darkefell stayed awake for a long time, listening to the rain and replaying their conversation over in his mind as he held her body close to his. She was his forever. Where once he had dreaded the confines of marriage, now he eagerly looked forward to knowing she was there beside him, every day, for the rest of their lives.

He finally slept, but awoke in the middle of the night. The storm was over and night sounds had reawakened. An owl hooted and something rustled outside the window. He was at peace, as he thought again and again,
she is going to marry me.
He pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her neck and inhaling her fragrance, sweeter to him than honeysuckle.

She awoke and murmured sleepily in his ear, “How delicious is this sense of having you close in the middle of the night, my love. Will we have this after we wed?”