A Forbidden Love (18 page)

“You foolish girl,” he chastised. “You’re frozen.”

Blanketing her in his coat, he folded her into his arms. Ah, what a feeling! Pure bliss was all that came to mind.

He could feel the shivers coasting along her spine, and tightened his embrace, his cheek brushing softly across her damp and icy brow.

“Anthony!”

“Protest all you want, my dear. I’m not letting go ’til you stop shaking.”

And to prove it, he rubbed his hands up and down her back in brisk, swirling motions.

The friction was causing him some heat as well, despite the cold, wet garb pressed up against him, and he was gripped with a powerful need to taste her. Well, he always had that urge. But now it was even more consuming.

His lips went to her brow, then to the icy tip of her nose.

“I want you,” he said softly.

She gasped. His mouth closed tightly over hers. She wiggled soundly in his arms, for all of two seconds, before she sighed, the tension draining from her limbs, her body sagging forward into his chest.

She shuddered and he felt every thrilling tremor. “I need you,” he whispered hoarsely, captured her lips in an ardent kiss, then broke away again. “Let me love you tonight.”

It was a whimper she let loose. A whimper of defeat. The sweetest sound he had ever heard. He wanted to cry out with joy at her surrender. It was about bloody time they both gave in to their overriding passions. He was certainly at his wit’s end with desire.

“Anthony, please,” she whispered.

“Am I really such a scoundrel for finding you so beautiful?” he breathed against her skin, kissing her between words. “Am I really such a blackguard for wanting to taste those sweet lips of yours?”

“I can’t,” came the quiet protest. Her voice was quivering. “My father—”

“Will never know,” he cut in quickly.

“But my future husband will!”

“Devil take your future husband!…How will the man know? You don’t intend on telling him, do you?”

“He’ll know,” she insisted. “On our wedding night, he’ll know. Oh, can’t you men tell when a woman is a…a…”

Anthony abruptly released his hold and she staggered back. She was flustered, her chest billowing with each eager pant. And she was striking, with the silver moonlight bouncing off her glossy wet hair.

“You’re a virgin?” He couldn’t tell if it was a blush or the fading moonlight, shadowed by a cloud, darkening her cheeks just then. “But you can’t be. You’re a gypsy.”

She bristled. “What does
that
have to do with anything?”

“Well, I mean…the way you paraded around my room in only your chemise with no hint of modesty. You just never acted as though you were chaste.”

“Gypsies don’t find shame in their bodies. So long as my legs were covered, I
was
being modest.”

Perturbed, he ran his fingers roughly through his hair. He hadn’t counted on a clash of cultures to pollute all his notions about her. Suddenly, he didn’t know what to think anymore. He felt as if he didn’t know her at all.

“Why are you saving yourself for a man you care nothing about?” he asked, at a complete loss to understand her motives.

“I have my father’s honor to think of.”

“And why would your father care?”

“It would disgrace my entire family if I were not a…”

“Virgin?”

“On my wedding night,” she rounded off hastily. “Why do you sound so surprised? Doesn’t your future wife have to be chaste?”

“Well, naturally, but issues of rank and reputation, wealth and heirs are at stake.”

She stuck her arms through the sleeves of his coat and crossed them under her breasts. “And I suppose my father’s honor is worthless because he’s a gypsy?”

“I did not mean—”

“I know what you meant,” she cut in sharply. “Because I have no fortune, my father shouldn’t care whom I bed.”

All right, perhaps that was what he meant. But in his defense, a gentleman had to be selective in his choice of a bride. One couldn’t risk ignominy by marrying anything less than perfect breeding. But a gypsy being so finicky? Did it really matter all that much whom she bedded? She had no social standing to protect or noble family name to dishonor.

He was at a loss for words. Sabrina, on the other hand, had no such difficulty in finding her voice.

Chanting a few unintelligible words, she spit at his feet.

He looked at his boots, then back up to her, storm clouds gathering in his eyes, and demanded, “What did you just do?”

Her lips were trembling. “I put a curse on you.”

“You cursed me?” Incredulous, he suddenly thundered, “What the hell for?!”

“Because you thought me a whore!” she cried back. “You wanted nothing more than to bed me. You didn’t even care that it might ruin the rest of my life!” Moisture swelled to the brim of her sooty lashes. “I thought I meant something more to you. But I don’t. I’m nothing but a poor, worthless gypsy to you.”

“That isn’t true!”

“Yes, it is. It’s all you’ll ever see in me. You’re just like all the others.”

His anger vanished at the sight of those tear-filled eyes. He realized then the girl
had
trusted him. At some point in time, she’d stopped looking upon him with suspicion, but he’d been too self-absorbed in his lust to notice. And now, he’d shattered her confidence in him. He’d never done that before: devastated a woman’s trust. Come to think of it, no one except Sabrina had ever placed such faith in him to begin with, so that was why there was never a crushed spirit or broken heart to contend with.

But now, to see that disillusioned face stained with tears—tears he had caused—was piercing to the soul.

She spit at his feet once more.

“There. I took off the curse. I shouldn’t be angry with you anyway.
I’m
the fool.” She pointed to her chest. “
I
thought you were different from other
gajos
. But you’re not. You care only about yourself.”

Something unpleasant swirled in his gut at her cutting words. He quickly closed the space between them and grabbed her arms. “Sabrina, listen to me.”

“Get away from me.” She broke free of his hold. “I don’t want anything to do with you.”

It wasn’t in his nature to leave a woman irate with him. A smile or charming remark usually did away with any feminine pout or frown. But Sabrina wasn’t wounded because he was tardy for a ball or absentminded in complimenting her dress, and he sensed such a trivial reparation wouldn’t suffice in this instance.

“Sabrina, I…”

She stalked away. He heard her ragged breaths grow faint, saw her silhouette disappear into the shadows.

That wretched feeling stirring in his gut grew worse. It consumed him. He felt the overwhelming need to make amends. But how?

And then an alarming thought intruded, that they would part company on such ghastly terms. He couldn’t bear the thought of his atrocious conduct haunting him for the rest of his days. He certainly couldn’t bear the thought of Sabrina always hating him. She had been the only one to ever see in him something more than a rogue. To believe he was honorable. To place her very safety in his hands. He wouldn’t let her go home thinking she had been a fool to ever trust him. He would set things right between them…somehow. He swore to himself she would have no regrets in having met him.

Chapter 16

S
he was nearly home. The thought was strange to Sabrina. It had been almost a fortnight since she’d disappeared from her camp. No great length of time. And yet it seemed like she’d been away for ages. She felt changed. Older. She felt as if she didn’t belong with her people any more than she belonged with
gajos
.

It was such a wretched feeling, to have no sense of belonging. She had never felt that way before. Her path in life had always been so clear, lit by the wisdom of the tribal elders. They had guided her for so many years, and she had grown dependent on them. Without an elder near to instruct her, she was lost. The path she now walked in her heart was dark and frightening, and she couldn’t see what was waiting for her at the other end.

But the elders would steer her back on course, she was sure. As soon as she was home, they would set everything to right. She would begin her life as a healer, a wife, and eventually a mother: the very destiny she had tried to thwart. She would no longer try to avoid what was meant to be. She had been punished for her reckless behavior, for stepping beyond the boundaries of her world and consorting with a
gajo
. She would not be such a fool again.

It shamed her to think of what she had done—or almost done. To have trusted a
gajo
was beyond reckless. Children knew better than to trust an outsider. And
she
, daughter of the tribal leader, should have obeyed gypsy teachings. She should have accepted that an outsider was akin to an enemy. Had she done so, she would never have developed feelings for Anthony. She would never have risked dishonoring her father—or herself—for a heartless rake.

The sky rumbled in the distance. She shivered at the sight of the threatening clouds. She didn’t want to be alone and trapped under the angry heavens when the storm came pouring down. But then the horse snorted some distance behind her, and she sighed, remembering she was not alone after all.

A quick glance over her shoulder and she caught sight of Anthony’s trailing figure, leading the horse by the reins. Why the man was still following her, she didn’t know. But he hadn’t said a word to her since the other night. She was thankful for that. The sound of his voice only stirred to life intimate emotions she wanted stifled. But knowing he was there, feeling his eyes on her, seemed to affect her just as powerfully.

It wasn’t fair that one brief, wandering figure in her life should have such a great impact on the rest of her days; that she should have changed so much, in such a short period of time, and all because of one man.

That unhappy thought remained with her until she felt the tiny, cold drops of water strike her skin. She scanned the countryside with an eager eye and an attentive ear. Her camp was nearby. The land looked so familiar.

And then she heard it, the laughter. Children’s laughter. And her eyes fell upon the distant moving dots dashing toward the nearby hilltop. Her camp. It was just over that hill.

Her heart thumped faster. She was home. She would soon see her father. Would he be angry with her for disappearing from the caravan? Would he be able to see the change in her? And would he be able to guess the reason for her change?

Her lackluster pace allowed Anthony to close the gap between them. Her gaze so intent upon the hillside, she was startled to hear the deep voice by her ear.

“Are you home?”

She turned to look at him. A hesitant wind ruffled his golden hair, causing a stray curl to dance over his bright and piercing eyes. It made her chest hurt to see that handsome face, so noble in appearance. Her heart cried out at the image—an image she now knew was nothing but an illusion.

“My camp is nearby,” she said. “I have to go the rest of the way by myself.”

He nodded in understanding. Should anyone see him traveling with her, it would lead to too many questions. Questions she did not want to answer.

She couldn’t bear to keep her eyes on him anymore. She turned away, but he cupped her face between his strong fingers and forced her to confront him.

“Sabrina, I never meant to hurt you.”

Did he have to sound so earnest? Those blasted tears were gathering again. Curse them! She would sooner bite her tongue and make it bleed than shed another tear for the unfeeling scoundrel.

“Forgive me,” he said sincerely. “I only wanted to help you. My desire for you was…real. But it should never have interfered with my duty.”

Why was he doing this to her? In moments, they would part company for good. Words of forgiveness would get him nothing, he had to know that. She would never be so foolish as to trust him again.

“I wanted nothing from you,” he said next, as though he had heard her thoughts, but then he sighed. “That isn’t entirely true. I wanted you. I still do. I cannot help how I feel.”

Why
was her heart stomping so loudly in her ears?
Why
couldn’t she break away from his hold?

“But one intention was always honorable,” he whispered. “I always meant to protect you and see you safely home. Perhaps I am just more of a rogue than I care to admit.” He pressed a warm and tender kiss to her brow. “Goodbye, Sabrina.”

And that was it. He took his horse by the reins and walked away. Words were swimming around in her throat, drowning, and by the time she’d mustered enough control to say something, Anthony was gone. He was no more than a moving shadow in the distance.

The soft sprinkle of rain soon turned into a steady shower, the kiss on her brow washed clean away.

The din of bubbly chatter meshed with the notes of the jigging fiddlers, as all united in celebration of the healer’s safe return. There were many tender smiles, many joyful voices, many spirited laughs and tight, bone-crushing hugs. But there was one gypsy in the camp who didn’t feel like celebrating.