Taken by the Wicked Rake (21 page)

He should not be allowing this, for every moment he kept her meant parting would be more difficult. But she gave a final flick on the end of the rope to draw him closer, and he lost all sense. How could he let her go, when it was she who possessed him? He could feel the tide rising in him as he gave himself over to her.

He pushed the rope off his hands and fell upon her, and into her, stroking deep, taking her roughly, biting at her throat and breasts, while she gave startling yelps of pleasure that dissolved into gasps of passion, and at last, a shuddered orgasm that drove him over the edge with her.

And after, they lay still upon the bed. And there came the feeling he had whenever he was with her. The strange, pleasure-drunk feeling. A lightness of head and body. And the still unfamiliar absence of pain. It reminded him of a day he’d spent swimming in the sea, where the waters were clear and deep. It was an afternoon free of care, wrapped in the warmth of the water, suspended as though weightless, carried with the waves and warmed by the sun, happy and at peace, wishing that he need never go back to the land.

But now, when he opened his eyes, there was his
romni
, his sweet truth, staring up at him, as gentle and warm as a sunbeam. “Have I told you how beautiful your eyes are?” he asked.

She smiled. “You told me they could not make up their mind what colour they wished to be. You seemed to think this changeableness was a deficiency in my nature.”

He smoothed the hair out of her face. “I was a fool to let you believe that. I could stare for ever at them, looking for the place where the brown turns to green. It is as if they are caught between worlds.”

“As are you, Stephen Hebden,” she whispered. “Tell me more.”

He touched her cheek, and wondered why he had held his compliments until it was almost too late. The sight of her and the feel of her loving him was perfection, and he had not told her. “Your eyes are like Chinese jade.”

She smiled. “Brown and green together. Is it rare?”

He shook his head. “Not so much as a pure colour is. But it is still very beautiful. And to find a woman who can change as easily as the colour of jade, and be happy in a great house or a Gypsy camp…”

“Or a place like this?” she whispered.

He kissed her. “You are rarer than diamonds. And I want to keep you. With me. Always. But no matter what happens, no matter where I am, I will never forget you.”

He could not say the words he was thinking, for he did not want her to hear his doubt. It seemed she could change for him, to be any woman he wanted. Once she was home, she would see how different they were. What would happen when she remembered who she had been and changed again?

I am afraid I will lose you.

Chapter Fifteen

Later, when the maid had dressed her, he came back to her. He looked as he had on the first night. The earring was gone from his ear, and his colourful shirt was replaced with a brown coat and buff breeches, unadorned except for the exceptional quality of the cut. Without thinking, she looked to his wrist, and then remembered that the silver cuff rested high on her own arm, hidden by the sleeve of her dress.

He smiled at her. But there was the same sombre tone to it that had been present that morning, as though someone had died and they were mourning the loss. “You are very beautiful,” he said.

“Thank you. But with the look on your face, it hardly seems a compliment. Do you not like my dress?” She turned so that he might admire it.

“I do. Very much. But I liked you as you were before, as well. And I regret that you did not hear it from me every minute of every day that we were together. And I wish…” He shrugged. “That there was more time.”

“We shall settle this. I doubt it will take more than a day or two. And then, we shall have all the time in the world.”

“Of course. A lifetime.” But it was clear that he said this only to humour her, and without any real belief.

She swallowed the sudden fear. “Do you not want me any more? Is that why you are sending me back?”

He gave a small laugh and pulled her close, kissing her. “I want you still. I am sending you back, because it is where you belong. I stole you.”

“Then you have no reason to be sad. Unless you think it is I who will no longer want you.” And looking at him, she was sure that it must be true. “I am barely out of your bed, and you doubt my love? That is perfectly odious of you, Stephano.”

“You may call me Stephen, when we are in London. It will be easier.”

“I will call you whatever you like, as long as you mean to answer to it. Unless you continue to think me so false that I would…do the things we have done together…and then return to my family as though those things had never happened…” It had never occurred to her that he might not ac knowledge her as wife, for he had promised. And the sudden feeling of loneliness that washed over her left her almost weak with sadness. But before the first sob could form, he had reached out to her and pulled her close.

“I did not. And I would never. You are my wife, my darling, my all. And I am yours, always and for ever, no matter what happens. But you do not yet understand what I have asked of you. And when you do…” It was as if the emotion went through him like a shudder, and he held her even closer, pressing his lips to hers. “It will be difficult. More difficult than you know. But I will wait for you.

“But now, we must go.” He gained control of his emotions again, and busied himself with wrapping a cloak around her shoulders, tying it tightly to hide her gown. Then he offered her a bonnet and fixed a bit of veil over her features so even her closest friends would not be able to recognize her. He led her down the stairs and through the gamers gathered in the room. They gave no notice to the mysterious woman in their midst.

They rode in silence to Albemarle Street in a hired carriage. Although Nell and Marcus now had a separate home in nearby Bruton Street, apparently they had been staying at the Carlow town house since her disappearance. And when they arrived, Stephano paused with his hand on the door handle and looked at her. Now that it was time to let her go, he could not seem to find the nerve. “If there were any other way…”

“Than sending me home?” She smiled. “You do not think I am at risk on a visit to my brother, do you? Because that is quite an outlandish idea.”

He frowned. “It is a dangerous world. Especially for the Rom.”

“But I am not truly Rom, am I?”

“No, you are not.” She could see it hurt him to say it.

She put her hand on his. “I was born in that house. I hardly think you need be frightened of my returning to it. Once I have explained to my family, I will go to the Bloomsbury house, and send Jenny to find you. And we will be together again. Trust me.”

He turned his head to kiss her palm. “Always.”

And then he helped her from the carriage. She turned back only once on her way into the house and saw Stephano, a dark silhouette inside the carriage. She could not see him clearly, but was sure he meant to watch until the door closed and removed her from his sight.

~***~

She was not truly leaving, she reminded herself. With each step, the time she had spent in the camp seemed stranger and more distant. But it was such a happy memory that she knew she would not forget, no matter how much she longed to see her family again.

So she turned from him and continued her walk to the house and knocked on the front door, waiting for Wellow the butler. When no one came to open for her, she let herself in. “Hello?” she called out softly, surprised at the strange quiet that enveloped the front of the house. Perhaps she had spent too much time talking to Magda, and was now imagining portents where there had been none. But her old home felt like a place of mourning.

It got even stranger when a parlour maid wandered into the room to dust, took one look at her and ran screaming for the kitchen.

In response to the scream, she heard the thunder of footsteps in the upstairs hall, recognizing, even at a distance, the military cadence of her brother Hal’s boots. “Hal?” she called. It would be good to see him, but quite unexpected.

“Verity? Oh my God. Marc!” He was running to wards her, yelling for their brother.

And suddenly the room was awash with confusion. People came from all directions. Nell sat down on the stairs, overcome with shock and near to fainting before even reaching her. Hal’s wife, Julia, rushed to aid her. And Diana Price Wardale of all people, was back in the house and hurrying to Verity’s side, openly weeping as she embraced her.

“What is the matter?” She reached out her hands to them all, the silver bracelet slipping on her wrist as she offered comfort.

“The matter?” The normally calm Diana let out a shrill laugh that bordered on hysteric.

“Verity.” Marc at least, was laughing in earnest as he reached out to hug her. But his grip was weak, as though the brief time they had been apart had aged him. And when he released her, she thought for a moment that she saw the sparkle of tears in his eyes.

“You are all being foolish,” she chided. “I have not been gone a week. You all act as though I have returned from the dead.”

And there was a silence, as the people around her absorbed the statement. Finally, Diana spoke. “You do not know what that monster sent to us? The horrible note. Of course we thought you dead. There was blood.”

“Probably his own…” Verity hastened to say. “He cut his hand…”

“And on your chemise. We thought…” Diana ended on a watery gasp, “And that after, he had disposed of the body. And that there could not even be a funeral, for we would never see more of you. We have kept it secret from your parents. Because what could we dare to tell your father? The truth would kill him.”

“Enough!” Marc’s voice cut through the hubbub. “Verity is returned to us. Safe and sound. She has nothing more to fear from the Gypsies, and we will not have to tell Father a thing. We will deal with the one who did this, quickly and quietly.” He cast a glance around the room to the gentlemen present, and there was a chorus of silent nods that made Verity pray that Stephano had gotten well away from the house.

“But you do not understand,” Verity said. “None of you. It is all nothing more than a mistake. I can explain it all.”

“But not now, darling,” Hal said, putting a brotherly arm around her shoulders. “There will be time, I am sure. For now, you must rest. And later, when you are ready, you may tell us anything you like. Or nothing at all, if you so prefer.” And for a moment, he seemed rather pale, as though he would just as soon not hear the story he was expecting from her.

“Hal is right. A rest in your room. A nice meal. A warm bath, if you wish…” Marcus was trying to guide her to the stairs, as though she could not find her own way to her room.

“I am quite clean enough, I assure you, and not the least bit hungry. I had a lovely dinner, just an hour ago. And a nap in the after noon. There is nothing wrong with me, Marc. And yet, you sound ready to offer me a posset laced with laudanum.”

She had meant to joke him out of his fears. But her brothers looked past her, from one to the other. Her calm mood seemed to upset them more than it assured them. At the rate they were going, if she continued to resist help, she was liable to end the night in a doctor’s care.

She shot a helpless look to Diana, who had the presence of mind to reach out a hand to her. “Maybe it is better, if I go to my room for a bit,” she said, signalling to Diana with a squeeze of her fingers that she wanted company. She gave the rest of them what she hoped was a reassuring smile, although properly frail so as not to arouse suspicion. “But I promise. I am quite well. Totally unhurt. You have nothing to fear, and there is no need to go gallivanting off in search of justice. Not until after we have talked, at any rate. But for now?” She smiled at Diana, and Nell and Julia, as well, to include them in the retreat. “My room, I think.”

Chapter Sixteen

“Maybe you can talk sense to her. For I despair of it.” Marc closed Verity’s bedroom door with a slam, leaving her alone with Hal.

It was the middle of her first day at home, and it was not going as smoothly as she had hoped. Diana and Nell had been as understanding as possible, although rather short tempered with her for defending Stephano – or as they called him, “that horrible Gypsy.” Eventually they had given up trying to convince her, allowing that rest was the solution to many things.

With the change of day, they had turned her over to her brothers.

Now, Hal sat on the bed and stared at the closed door. “I have never seen him so angry. And certainly not with you. You never give him reason.”

“Not with Honoria, either. He did not make nearly so much fuss, when she had to go to Aunt Foxe.”

“Because what she did was little fault of hers. But you, Verity?” Hal shook his head and sighed. “I know you did not run away with the Gypsy. Do not think we blame you for your own kidnapping. But you do not understand how worried we were. Or the horrible message he sent.”

As they had lain together in the vardo after making love, Stephano had explained the reason for his injured hand, and the note he had sent. It had been wrong of him, of course. But her family seemed far too sensitive about it. “What exactly did it say?”

“It involved a threat to your honour. The exact words are not fit for a lady’s ears.”

“And so you will keep me in the dark about them, just as you have everything else. That is the root of all the troubles I have had, I think. People keep trying to protect me to a degree that makes it impossible for me to make up my own mind. At least, Stephano was open with me about what he was doing.”

“Stephano is it?” Hal gave her a sharp look. “Do not give the man more credit than he deserves. He is as skilled a liar as he is a thief.”

“You assume, just because he is a Gypsy, that he is a liar and a thief. It is most unfair of you, Hal.”

“I assume he is a liar and thief, and a hundred other kinds of villain, because of the evidence of my own eyes. You should be the last one to defend him, Verity, after what he has done to you.”