Gypsy Lady (17 page)

He made a light rejoinder
and changed the subject. He enjoyed the dowager, but—
sur
ma foil
—what
a tartar she was! Tonight, though, she appeared to be in a good mood and asked
him conversationally, "How much longer do you plan to stay in
England?"

"I'm not certain,
madame. I've purchased several animals, but so far I haven't been able to find
the stud I want."

"And I suppose once
you've bought what you came for, you'll show us the backs of your heels?"

"What other reason
would I have for remaining?"

"You might," she
answered tartly, "stay and look for a wife!"

Jason's crack of laughter
caused several people to look in their direction. Elizabeth, hearing his
laughter and seeing him seated next to the red-haired Amanda,
frowned
her displeasure. But Jason, tired of her pouts and
moods, was indifferent, and his green eyes dancing with amusement, he said to
Augusta, "Madame, you and my father think as one! Those were his very
words."

"Well, then?"

"Perhaps!
Do you have a suitable
bride in mind for me?" he teased.

Ceci, having followed the conversation
avidly, gushed, "I would think that a cultured gentleman, such as
yourself
, would insist on only a well-bred Englishwoman for
a wife. Of course, I do not mean to insult the young women of America, but I'm
certain you would prefer a nice young woman of good family—a good
English
family."

Irritated by the
interruption, Augusta threw her a disgusted look. "Of course he
would!" she said scornfully and then continued, "But I think you
would want more than just good breeding in a wife."

"Oh, I agree. Most
certainly, you'd want more. You'd want a bride of beauty and
accomplishment." Ceci cooed smugly, and her maternal glance, resting
proudly on Elizabeth, seemed to add, "Here is the perfect answer."

Jason, all laughter
banished from his eyes, said coolly, "As you seem to know exactly what I
need, I'll leave you ladies to decide for me. Who knows," he added,
"I may even approve of your choice!" With that he turned on his heel
and left them.

Augusta watched him stride
from the room, and turning an unkind eye upon Ceci, she said grimly,
"Well, my lady, you certainly put a burr under his coat! You'll not see
that young gentleman dangling after that bad-tempered daughter of yours any
more!"

"How dare you say such
a
thing!
Elizabeth is not bad- tempered!" Ceci
replied, deeply affronted; an angry flush mottled her face.

But ignoring her outburst,
Augusta continued, "Not that her temper matters. Savage would want a woman
with spirit."

Ceci began to smile smugly,
saying, "Dear Elizabeth is the most spirited girl."

And Augusta cut in hastily,
"He won't settle for secondhand goods.
Pity about her
husband."

"It's certainly not
her fault that he killed himself!"

"Bah! Everyone knows
she drove him to it with her extravagant ways and tantrums."

"That is not
true!" Ceci cried shrilly, and her lips tightened ominously. She would
put up with only so much from this old harridan, even if she was Edward's god-
" mother
and the dowager duchess of Avon! "You
don't know what you're talking about!" she continued, her voice shaking
with temper. "The young man was always unstable. It was unfortunate that
Elizabeth married him!"

"Unfortunate for him,
you mean!" snapped Augusta.

Suppressing a gasp of rage,
Ceci rose and in icy tones bid her tormentor good night and stalked out of the
room. Augusta gave a pleased cackle of laughter. Ninny- hammer! Ceci should
have known better than to cross swords with
her!
And the woman was as
foolish as her daughter if she thought Savage would even consider Elizabeth as
a possible bride.

Jason was thinking much the
same thing as he entered the card room in search of Barrymore and Harris.
Elizabeth made an enjoyable bedmate, but God help the man stupid enough to
marry her.

He didn't see his friends
and was turning to leave when the incident with Pendleton happened. Later, he
was to question why he reacted as he did, but at that instant, he was only
aware that Pendleton grated on his nerves. A second later, the act was done,
and leaving a stunned silence behind him, he strolled from the room feeling eminently
satisfied. He ordered his curricle sent round, and while he was waiting, Barrymore,
Harris, and Brownleigh found him.

Brownleigh's interest was
mainly in keeping the whole thing quiet, but Tom thought gloomily, it couldn't
be kept quiet, not with a roomful of interested gentlemen to witness the insult
and the following challenge. Damn! What had made Jason do it? Especially, since
earlier he had seemed intent on avoiding a quarrel. Moodily Tom stared at
Jason's dark face as if the flickering candlelight that danced across it would
reveal the answer. But Jason's face wore a cold, indifferent expression that
gave nothing away.

Brownleigh, intensely
mortified and embarrassed that such a thing should happen under his roof and to
a guest who was staying at his house, was uncertain with whom he was
angrier—Pendleton for starting the disgraceful business or Savage for
finishing it! Thank God, the ladies hadn't been present! Wistfully, he wondered
if everyone would keep mum.

But Barrymore had no
intention of keeping mum and said angrily, "Damn it, Jason, you can't just
say the fellow irritated you! If he irritated you so much, why didn't you
challenge him earlier?"

Jason, his eyes hooded,
shrugged carelessly and moved towards his approaching curricle. "I prefer
to attack,
mon
ami,
rather than wait like a lamb for slaughter!"

Barrymore,
nearly hopping with rage, exploded, "God damnit!
What the hell do you
mean?"

Jason, ignoring Barrymore's
outburst, climbed into the curricle and grasping the reins of his restless
horses, dismissed the groom at their heads. Then he turned in the direction of
the three standing on the steps and said, "You'll forgive me if I don't
linger? There's a wind coming up; and I don't like to leave my horses
standing. Please convey my compliments to your excellent wife, Brownleigh. I've
enjoyed myself enormously and will see you again."

Barrymore made an attempt
to interrupt, but Jason threw him a look that killed the words teetering on his
lips. Holding Barrymore's eyes with his own, he said, "You and Tom will
arrange everything?"

Barrymore nodded
reluctantly, and Tom ran a nervous finger around his neck, as if his clothes
were suddenly too tight.

"Very
well then.
I'll expect to hear from you prior to Waterford's ball next week." His
mocking smile glinted briefly at their worried expressions. "Don't worry,
mes enfants,
everything will be all right." On that note, he slapped the reins, and his
spirited horses leaped into action, pulling swiftly away from the mansion.

 
It was a clear, moonlit night, and even though
there was a slight wind from the north and a chill in the night air, Jason
enjoyed the journey back to the inn. He was almost sorry when he slowed the
horses at the stables. Jacques, hearing the noise, came out to investigate and*
seeing his master, called impatiently to the dozing stable boy. Smiling to
himself, Jason watched as the two swiftly unharnessed the steaming pair and led
them to
flask
stalls.

Jason
found
himself
strangely reluctant for
his
bed
and followed them into the dim interior. The smell of animals and freshly laid
hay and the scent of the leather harness and saddles mingled to make a pungent,
not unpleasant
smell, that
assailed his nostrils. He
passed the two men who were busily robbing down the horses and wandered down
between the rows of stalls. Idly he noticed that the horses he purchased that
morning had arrived from the gypsy camp and were already settled in their
stalls. One mare, a blood bay with black points, her face betraying her Arab
blood, whickered softly as he approached. She moved restlessly in the stall as
if she found it strange to be inside and not out in the moonlit sight. Gently
Jason caressed the velvet muzzle that pushed against
his
hand
and murmured softly, "There, love. What a beauty you are! I wonder how you
and your stablemates came to be part of a gypsy
band?
"

Leaving
the mare with a pat on her gleaming neck, he strolled through the stable to
the
entrance, stopping to watch Jacques and the boy as they blanketed
his
pair. Jacques looked up from his task with a question in his black eyes, and
Jason replied, "No, I don't need anything.
I
was just watching." He continued to do so for a few minutes longer,
then
bidding them good night he strode to the inn.

Upstairs
in his room, he discarded his jacket and cloak. Glancing at his pocket watch,
he was surprised to see it was not many minutes past midnight. He kicked the
smoldering log in the fireplace and throwing his crumpled cravat on the
floor, called to Pierre to help remove his shining boots. And Pierre, having
done so, was dismissed with a careless flick of Jason's long fingers.

The
room grew quiet as Jason, now alone, lay relaxed in a comfortable chair before
the glowing orange coals of the fire. The measured tick of the clock on the polished
wooden mantel was heard above the occasional crack of the fire. The few candles
still burning created a pool of warm light that flickered over the still
figure. A small, elegant marble-topped table was at his elbow; upon it stood a
crystal decanter partially filled with brandy. Jason loosely clasped a
half-emptied glass in
his
hand as he stared into the dying fire. Throwing
his black head back against the chair, he impatiently drained the glass and
slammed it down on the table, the sound breaking the soothing stillness of the
room. Swiftly
raising
from the chair, he prowled the
room like some caged jungle beast. Abruptly he left the sitting room, stalked
into
his
bedchamber,
and distastefully eyed his bed.

The
bed, a huge monstrosity, was on a dais at the end of the large room. Its ruby
velvet canopy and curtains gleamed like blood in the dim light from the single
candle Pierre had left burning on the night stand. Jason yanked aside the ruby
hangings that encased the bed and glanced at the interior. Pierre had pulled
back the blanket to expose the snowy linen sheets. The bed looked inviting,
but he was not sleepy.

Restlessly,
he paced the room. Damn, he wished he had demanded that the gypsy wench come
tonight. She would occupy his time! Grinning suddenly, he strode silently in
his stocking feet to the wardrobe. That's what he needed!
A
woman.
Having hit upon a happy solution, he stripped off the remainder
of his finery, revealing a body as lean and dark as his face. And reaching deep
into the back of the wooden wardrobe, his seeking hand touched the garments
they sought.

Pierre
had protested loudly when Jason had insisted
on
bringing his- buckskins—especially the shirt with the fringe on the long
sleeves. Pierre had snapped that only a savage would think it becoming! The
unintentional pun had made Jason smile at the time, and the memory of it evoked
the same response now. Along with the loosely cut shirt and pants, he had
packed his moccasins. Arrayed in the buckskin garments, he stood before the
full-length mirror, a twinkle leaping into his eyes. Certainly this inn had
never beheld a figure dressed as he. His garb was more suited to the plains of
Texas or the villages of the Indians that lived there; and with his black hah
and dark face, he could have passed for an Indian himself.

He was silent as an Indian
when he crept from the sleeping inn. Unbolting the catch, he slid the door
open, listening intently for sounds from the normally busy tavern room, but
only silence met his listening ear. A moment later he was outside in the frosty
air. It took only another minute to reach the stable. And smiling to himself,
he wondered if he was still a clever horse thief.

It appeared he had
remembered well, for a short time later he and a burly black stallion were galloping
down the road towards Brownleigh's residence. Jason rode with no saddle,
guiding the spirited black like an Indian, his long legs wrapped about the
racing horse. He had taken the time to bridle the animal, but if no bridle had
been handy, a length of rope would have done him as well. The ride had
disarrayed his hair, and one unruly black lock fell across his forehead. Blood
Drinker would have recognized the reckless glitter in his green eyes. Catlike,
Jason skirted the house searching for a particular window. Finding it, he
pushed aside the ivy leaves to grasp the ropelike branches that clung like
limpets to the side of the house. Rapidly he climbed to the window he sought, a
whisper of rustled leaves being the only sound he made as his body slid upward.
The window was unlocked and opened as he expected. Not because Elizabeth was
waiting for him, but because he knew of her passion for fresh ah. A wolfish
smile on his mouth, Jason stealthily entered the room and melted into the
brocade draperies.

Elizabeth, preparing for
bed, was wearing a filmy, sea green negligee that revealed more of her body
than it hid. Her hair was a shining chestnut mass about her creamy shoulders as
she sat before a dressing table watching the maid in the mirror brush her hair.
Growing bored with watching the girl, her gaze roamed idly about the room.
Suddenly her eyes widened, and she nearly spoke out loud as she glimpsed
Jason's mocking face. Holding her eyes for a moment, he winked audaciously;
then as the maid, sensing something, looked up from her task, he faded into the
gold folds of the draperies.

Elizabeth snapped at the
girl, "Leave it! That's enough for tonight. You may go, and I don't want
to be disturbed again this evening."

Startled at her mistress's
sharp command, the girl nearly dropped the brush. But then, that was just
Elizabeth Markham, never grateful for anything and tightfisted, too. Nasty
bitch!
the
girl thought spitefully as she left the
room. She stopped in the hall for a moment and was surprised to hear the key
turn in the lock behind her.

Elizabeth pivoted slowly to
face Jason, the skirt of her negligee swirling like sea foam about her slender
ankles. Her hand still on the lock, she leaned back against the mahogany door,
her hair a bright, warm glow next to its darkness. There was a pleased smile on
her red mouth as she watched Jason cross to her.

A smile, almost as
satisfied as hers, curved his mouth. He hadn't been all that sure of his
reception, but it seemed he had read her character correctly. He paused a few
feet from her, taking in the body so enticingly displayed for him.

The sea green negligee had
a low, square neck that lay bare the swell of her breast, and her coral-tipped
nipples could be seen hazily through the filmy material. A growing flame dancing
in their green depths, Jason's eyes wandered unhurriedly over her. Elizabeth's
smile deepened as she watched his appreciative perusal of her charms, and her
voice was low as she whispered teasingly, "Do you like what you see?"

His answer was to reach out
and pull her unresisting body next to his, and through his clothing, she could
feel him hard with desire. Then looking up into the lean face above her, she
discovered the smile was gone, and there was a look on his face that caused a
shiver of pleasure to course through her. Feeling that shiver, Jason bent his
head and kissed her warm, waiting lips. Not breaking the deepening kiss, he
lifted her slender form up into his arms and carried her to the bed. Laying her
gently down, he slowly began to undress her, pushing aside the filmy gown to release
her full breasts to his caressing hands. Releasing her lips, he lowered his
head to lightly kiss and fondle her hardened nipples, and as his mouth found
hers again, she was lost in a swimming sea of desire. Her gown lay in a
discarded heap on the rug, his knowing hands roaming with increasing demands
over her satin flesh.

He stopped momentarily to
rapidly strip off his clothing and then he was in bed with her, his long, hard
length pressed tightly against hers. His hands and kisses aroused her as no
other man's had, and she arched her back, pushing her body even closer to his,
and began to moan with pleasure when he entered her. Leisurely he brought her
sobbing to the peak of emotion, moving slowly within her and increasing the hot
desire that already consumed her. Her body rose to meet his every stroke until
he swept her to a throbbing completion.

Afterwards they lay in
silence, languid in the aftermath of passion. Then she rubbed her tousled head
on his shoulder and running her fingers lightly over his chest, murmured,
"Mmmmm, it was bad of you to come climbing through my window." She
stretched lazily like a contented cat and purred, "But I'm glad you're so
bold."

Jason, a crooked smile on
his face, eyed her with amusement. She was a delightful bed companion, being
almost as experienced as he. And thank God, she hadn't tried any coy tricks on
him—so far, he amended silently. He lay back next to her, one arm thrown
carelessly over his eyes, and relaxed. Elizabeth propped herself up on one
elbow and began, again, to run her fingers idly over his prone body. She
noticed for the first time the gold band about his arm.

"What's that?"
she asked.

Jason glanced down at the
Aztec band and remarked, "It's merely a piece of jewelry that I happen to
like. Why?"

She shrugged her shoulders
and said, "No reason. I was just curious. It's unusual for a man to wear
such a thing, and I wondered if it had some special meaning— perhaps a
particular woman gave it you?"

Jason shot her an amused
grin and laughed, "That would be telling."

Not at all pleased with his
answer, she changed the subject and asked in a determinedly teasing tone,
"Do you think I'm better than Clive's wench?"

"As I've never bedded
Clive's wench, as you call her, I can't tell you," he replied with an edge
to his voice.

Dissatisfied with that
answer, too, she pouted and with apparent idle curiosity asked, "What were
you doing out there?"

He sighed. Damn women,
anyway! Why did they always want to talk afterwards? He rolled over onto his
belly and said abruptly, "I went to buy horses."

"Darling,
what an odd place to buy horses!
Do you really expect me to believe that?"

He moved impatiently,
disliking her probing questions. "I really don't give a damn whether you
do or not. It's the truth, and if it doesn't please you, that's too damn
bad!"

Wisely, she dropped the
subject and nestled down next to him, her body curving to mold itself to his.
He startled her by asking, "What did Clive tell you happened out
there?"

"Only that you seemed
more than taken with Cath— er—Tamara's charms," she finished quickly,
hoping he hadn't caught her near blunder.

He frowned. "Why was
he discussing it with you?"

She laughed nervously and
stated, "Clive is one of those people who likes to cause trouble, and he
knew it would upset me." Effectively closing the subject, she kissed him
lingeringly on the mouth and her eyes holding his, murmured, "I'm very
jealous!"

His mouth quirked in a
smile, and he laid her back against the scented pillows and nuzzled her ears
and neck, leaving a tingling trail of anticipation as his lips moved slowly
over her. She moved her warm flesh suggestively against his lean body, her mind
beginning to float as the first swirlings of reawakened desire began to flow through
her.

"Exactly how well do
you know Pendleton?" The question, whispered in her ear, nearly caused
her to jerk with alarm, and the cold look on his face did nothing to allay the
feeling.