Deeper Than Roses

by Charlene Cross

  Startled awake, a dazed Kristiana cried out. Not knowing where she was or who had taken hold of her, she struck out blindly. “Let loose of me!” she shouted, pummeling her attacker’s muscular back, her small fists striking furiously.

  The defensive action did little good, for her assailant refused to release her. His hands traveled roughly over her bare legs, moving ever higher toward her thighs. A vision of Edward’s brutal assault filled her mind, and Kristiana fought the harder. One leg shook free of his grasp, and the heel of her foot hit her attacker’s rib cage. A curse erupted from him, and in a trice Kristiana found herself pinned to the ground, her handsome Gypsy atop her.

  “Will you cease your attempts to cripple me?” Logan gritted between clenched teeth, his hard eyes flashing with restrained anger. “I’m trying to help you, not harm you.”

  Kristiana stared up at him questioningly. Then she remembered her pledge to treat him as contemptuously as he had treated her, her anger revived itself. “I don’t need your help—ever!” She struggled against the hands that chained her wrists, but her attempts to free herself were futile. Green fire danced in her eyes. “Let loose of me, you… you…”

  “Gypsy cur?” he questioned, his gaze growing ever harder, brighter.

  The hot glow centered in his golden orbs frightened Kristiana, but she refused to back down. “If you wish to be called that, so be it.” She struggled against his insistent hands anew. “Term yourself whatever you like, but release me and let me up!”

  Logan held Kristiana fast to the ground. Golden flames singed her mutinous face as his gaze raked over it. A tic jumped along his knotted jaw, bespeaking his ire. Then suddenly he freed her. “If milady wishes it, then so be it,” he jeered, his arms pushing his superior weight from her. Lithely he sprang to his feet. “Up with you now. Or shall I assist milady to her feet?”

  Detecting the mockery in his voice, the same etched on his face, Kristiana stared up at him for a long moment. “I don’t need your help, sir,” she spouted haughtily, jerking herself up from the ground. To Kristiana’s surprise, she found herself back upon it, her bottom having hit the earth with a thud.

  Fighting back a grin, Logan hunkered down beside her. “Having difficulty standing, are we? Mayhap you do need my assistance after all.”

  An angry shriek erupted from Kristiana’s lips as he scooped her up into his arms; her weight lifted easily as he straightened his legs. Under much protest from his rebellious charge Logan carried her to an outcropping of rocks near the edge of the wood and deposited her on the smooth surface of the lowest one. He knelt before her.

  “The reason, milady, you cannot stand is that you have no blood in your feet.” His gaze caught hold of hers; Logan lifted her foot and began to massage it. “What were you trying to do? Severely injure yourself? Trust me when I say: Without the use of your feet, you’d be helpless. On the morrow we move out again, and no one will take you up in his wagon. You’ll be expected to walk like the others… that is, if you don’t wish to be stranded here.”

  Her mouth caught in a tight line, Kristiana refused to say why she had allowed her feet to linger in the frigid water as long as she had. She would tell him nothing of what she had suffered! If it came down to it, tomorrow, when the caravan rolled again, she’d crawl beside Sidi’s wagon. She’d ask no favors of anyone. She wanted no one’s pity, least of all his! But as the circulation began to flow into her benumbed feet, so did the pain, and she could not hold back her cry of agony as she tried to pull her foot from his grasp.

  Logan kept a firm hold on it. “What’s wrong?” His gaze traveled to her foot, and for the first time he saw the cuts and bruises, the broken blisters oozing again from his mishandling. “Goddess, look what you’ve done to yourself.” He gently lifted the other foot “And all because you refused to make known your suffering.” His voice reflected the misery she had sustained. Golden eyes sought out green. “Your pride, Kristiana, has wounded you.”

  “My pride had nothing to do with this,” she lied purposefully; then she glimpsed his raised brow, which questioned the verity of her statement. “My feet simply are not used to the harsh conditions under which they were made to travel. Besides, it is as you say. No one would take me up into his wagon. Had I not kept the pace, I’d now be lost in the wood somewhere. But obviously good fortune was with me, for I am here, alive and well.”

  “Alive, yes, but well? Pray good fortune is with you again and that your feet don’t take the poisoning.” He raked his hand through his hair, cursing as he did so. “Why, for God’s sake, didn’t you call out to me?” Her mouth opened, undoubtedly to deliver a waspish reply, but he waved her off. “Never mind…. I know precisely why. Your superior attitude prevented your doing so. Having a lowly Gypsy assist you again was more than you could have endured. Correct?”

  Kristiana could no longer hold back her retort. “You cared little about my safety when you nearly ran me down with your cart!” she accused, tears brightening her eyes. “You stole me away from my home and settled me in with this band of wanderers,” she stated, forgetting why he’d done so. “All except Sidi despise me, persecute me at every turn. I have done nothing to make them hate me so. But they spit at me, pinch me, curse me, and shove me into the water. They treat me as though I am one of the lowly dogs following along behind the wagons. You have brought me to this base state. You carted me to these people, telling me I’d be safe, then you abandoned me, leaving me to fend for myself. Why should I call out to you when it is obvious you care nothing of what I am made to suffer?” A tear slipped from her eye, and Kristiana groaned over the fact it had done so. “Go away and leave me in peace!” she commanded, hoping he would obey her before she flooded the brook with her tears.

  The angry light faded from his eyes, and Logan studied her for a long, searching moment. His arms ached to ease her into them, allowing her to sob out her pain and misery upon his shoulder. But he knew she would reject any such attempt from him. Then there was his vow.

  He looked away from her as his mind warred with itself over his concern for Kristiana and his need to see Edward dead. She was new to him, someone he didn’t know but desired to know fully. However, the quest to avenge his stepbrother’s heinous act had been uppermost in his thoughts for the past fourteen years. He could not readily dismiss his desire for revenge—not after all this time. Moreover, there was Sebastian and the others. They, too, had suffered under Edward’s hand. And, yes, there was Kristiana. She also had endured much. All because of Edward! Unquestionably, the man had to pay for his sins.

  Slowly his gaze returned to Kristiana’s. He had thought to help the girl, but he now knew he should never have tried to hide her among the Rom. “There is a nunnery not far from here,” he said finally, his tone conciliatory, resigned. “It lies close to Stirling. The Rom will come upon it within a few days, and when they do, I will take you to its doors. You should be safe inside its walls, Kristiana, and the sisters will treat you most kindly.” Logan rose to his feet. “Until then I ask you to persevere. I’ll leave you now but will return shortly with some ointment and herbs to administer to your wounds. Stay where you are and don’t make me search you out again, for it will be dark soon.”

  Drawing a shaky breath, Kristiana wiped the tears from her eyes and watched as the Gypsy loped up the hill, headed toward the camp. Her brow furrowed as she thought about his words. Did she truly wish to be free from the harsh life of the Rom, thereby finding herself free of him? Strangely, Kristiana could not state a definite yes to her question, especially the part about her protector. To reside inside four stone walls again, sheltered from the elements and the uncertainties that lay in the open, seemed most inviting. Likewise she could readily forgo the tormenting gibes, as well as the menacing physical attacks—minor as they were—that the quarrelsome bunch seemed wont to heap upon her. Yet apart from the Gypsies’ treatment of her, Kristiana found she rather enjoyed nature’s landscape and the freedom her new life afforded her.

  T
oday, between cursing her feet and her overall suffering, she had discovered there were moments when she relished the feel of the sun upon her, the late-spring breeze caressing her face, or the scent of wildflowers that flourished in a meadow or shot up from the forest floor. Once sequestered in the nunnery, she would miss these things as much as she would miss sleeping under the stars, as she had done last night. But most of all she would miss the man with golden eyes, their ardent glow nearly as hot as the noonday sun.

  Kristiana felt overly warm as she remembered the few times his sultry gaze had captured hers. Trapped in its intense glow, she thought she’d seen ardent desire, and the fervid emotion was meant only for her. Undoubtedly she’d been mistaken, for he was enamored of Liza, not her. Knowing as much, Kristiana resigned herself to locking herself away in the nunnery, safe from Edward and safe from the heartache her Gypsy was bound to cause her should she stay.

  Hearing a rustling noise in the woods behind her, Kristiana turned and noticed that Balo strode the ground toward her; she glanced away. Lifting her slumped shoulders into a stiff posture, she scooted back on the rock and gazed out over the stream, tilting her chin upward. Haughtiness might be her only source of protection, and she decided to use it in order to keep her heart safe.

  “I see you were wise enough not to lead me a merry chase,” Logan said once he’d reached her side. “Had you done so, goddess, you would have suffered more than you are suffering at present.”

  “As lame as I am, where was I to speed off to? And stop calling me goddess. It sounds positively pagan,” she snapped, only to draw a raised brow from the man.

  “I see also that your mood has not lightened during our separation. For one who has such a beautiful mouth, you certainly have a poisonous tongue.” He knelt on one knee, spreading the implements he held along the ground. “Give me your foot.”

  Kristiana was tempted to place the thing squarely against his nose. Instead, in a show of superiority, she raised her chin a degree higher. Then, with her skirt pulled modestly over her knees, she lifted her foot and slipped it into his hand.

  Seeing the aloof tilt of her head, Logan’s eyes narrowed. If he confessed his true identity, he wondered if she would then attribute him the honor and respect that were rightfully due him. The skirt’s hem slapped against her thighs. “I’ve seen you in a lot less, goddess,” he baited, his eyes telling her she’d best not move or he’d tear the thing off her, “so stop playing the blushing maid.”

  Kristiana read the message he’d sent her and folded her hands in her lap, leaning back against the rocks. “As you like. But according to your aunt, I will pollute you.”

  Ignoring her, Logan took hold of her foot, dipped his fingers into a crock, then spread a clear ointment over her heel and sole, rubbing gently as he did so. Next he sprinkled a mysterious-looking concoction of herbs over the remedy he’d just applied and massaged it into her wounds.

  The medicine stung at first, but after a moment it soothed her burning sores, cooling her entire foot. Releasing her breath, Kristiana tried to relax, but at his continued touch mysterious quivers of delight coursed through her. Her admiring yet inquisitive eyes watched him for a long moment. “You don’t abide by your people’s laws, do you?” she asked, attempting to shake the odd feelings that trembled deep inside her. “Except, perhaps, when it’s convenient for you to do so. Won’t they punish you for disobeying them?”

  “Only if they catch me at it,” he said, wrapping a length of linen around her treated foot. He knotted the cloth at her ankle, then took hold of the other foot and began applying the ointment and herbs to it. “Does milady expect to call out in hopes of having me cast out from the tribe? I’d think twice if I were you, for if I go, so will you. I’m the only reason you are allowed in their midst.”

  Alarm shot through her, replacing her tremors of bliss. “They wouldn’t harm you, would they?” she asked, not knowing the punishment for breaking the laws of the Rom.

  “Not to the extent I couldn’t survive,” he stated while bandaging the second foot. The knot tied, he lowered her leg. “I would go before the Kris—the Gypsy court of law. If I were found guilty of breaking one of their more serious laws, I would be banished for life. Sometimes they shave a head or slice a piece of lobe from one’s ear, depending on the crime. A permanent scar tells the other kumpanias the bearer is marhime and should not be taken in.”

  Kristiana frowned and thought of her nurse. Part of Mala’s ear was missing. Undoubtedly that was why the woman had come to them. She’d been banished from her people for life. “Why do you tempt fate?” she asked of the man who knelt before her. “If someone were to see us thus, you would be ostracized—you’d never see your family again. You’d be all alone, as I am.” At the thought her throat cramped. “You risk too much for me, Balo. Go before someone finds us.”

  “I am able to take care of myself. You, on the other hand, are not. Now give me your foot again.”

  Spreading a piece of leather over his thigh, Logan placed Kristiana’s foot atop it. Using a knife, he cut the excess leather away, slicing holes in the hide at various intervals. He then folded the smooth pelt over her foot and wove a thick thong through the openings, whereupon he twisted the ends around her ankle and up her leg to mid-calf. The other foot followed.

  Swiftly, surely, Kristiana had been shod far faster than any horse. And more gently, too, she thought, viewing her new shoes; she smiled her appreciation.

  The sight of it sent ripples of longing through Logan’s whole being. Quickly he tore his gaze from her face. “They should protect you from the worst of it while we journey overland tomorrow.” He placed the crock of ointment, along with the pouch of herbs, in her hands. “Apply these to your feet tomorrow night, changing the linen wraps. In a few days you will be healed.” He came to his full height; Kristiana gazed up at him. “Sidi is worried about you. While I collect the firewood for you, make your way back to camp and let her know you are all right.”

  Kristiana watched as he moved off, snatching fallen limbs from the ground as he went. For a long while her feminine eye admired his perfect masculine form, then she noted the sky grew darker. Fearing she’d cause Sidi another fright, she slipped from the rocks and made her way back to the older woman’s wagon. Surprisingly, her feet felt regenerated. Not a pain or an ache resided in either one.

  “Is all well, child?” Sidi asked once Kristiana had returned.

  “Yes. I’m sorry I worried you. I—”

  “You don’t need to explain, Kristiana. Balo found you. That is all that is important.” She turned away and pointed her staff toward the wagon. “He killed and gutted a hedgehog for us when he went to water the horses. I’ve packed it in clay, and when the fire is laid you are to place it in the coals. Soon enough we shall eat.”

  Swallowing, Kristiana thought to forgo the evening meal, but her stomach immediately protested the idea.

  Sidi’s throaty laughter erupted. “Hedgehog is a delicacy among the Rom. Until you have tried it, don’t be so willing to pass judgment on its worthiness for your palate. I’m sure you will find it quite enjoyable.”

  “It is a delicacy among the Scots also,” Kristiana stated, “but I have never seen it prepared thus.”

  “Perhaps not. But your tongue will tell you how good it is.” Turning, Sidi climbed the steps and disappeared into the wagon.

  No more had Kristiana taken a step than her golden-eyed protector stepped from the woods, his arms laden with dead wood. Before long the fire was laid, a silent Kristiana watching as it was done. The Gypsy came to his feet. Uttering not a word, he strode off across the camp toward his cart.

  As Kristiana studied him she caught sight of a movement from the corner of her eye. Liza aimed herself toward the object of Kristiana’s gaze. Her hips swayed provocatively as she lightly traversed the ground. The dark-skinned beauty called out to him; he turned toward her. They spoke briefly, then headed off together, vanishing around the corner of an unattended wagon.


  In the dim light, beneath the skirt of the vehicle, Kristiana could see Liza’s and Balo’s feet standing toe to toe. Liza’s heels lifted from the red earth, and she balanced on the balls of her feet for what seemed an eternity; then they slowly settled to the ground.

  Closing her eyes for a brief moment, Kristiana envisioned what might have transpired between the pair. Not wanting to see any more, she slowly turned away from the couple’s hiding place to gaze into the fire. In a few days she’d be with the nuns, hidden away from Edward and all who wished to do her harm. And that included the man who had offered her a safe haven—the man who had unknowingly hurt her the most.

  Once the blazing wood had burned itself into red coals Kristiana retrieved the mud-caked hedgehog, then settled it deep into the fiery embers, covering it completely. As she sat by the campfire, legs to the side and shielded from view, she stared sightlessly into its glow. How long she sat there she was unable to say, but a gentle hand upon her shoulder broke her trance. Gazing up, she saw Sidi beside her.

  “Our meal is ready, child. Rake it from the ashes.”

  Under Sidi’s instruction Kristiana used a sturdy stick to pluck the hedgehog from the hot cinders. When it had cooled she peeled the clay away, the spines and skin pulling free of the succulent meat as she did so. A wooden bowl in hand, Kristiana bit into her portion and found the offering to be delicious. Her fingers lifted the meat to her mouth, and she ate ravenously. When the meal was over and their dishes were cleared away and washed, Kristiana sat next to Sidi.

  “If I were you, Kristiana,” the woman said after a long silent moment, “I would not flee the Rom’s protection so readily. You may regret it if you do.”