For a long moment their eyes held; then, steadying himself, Logan tore his gaze free. Hungrily he viewed her sinuous body, bathed in firelight. Youthful breasts pressed against the threadbare tunic, and Logan’s hands ached to caress their fullness, while his lips desired to tease their tips. Eyelids snapped shut, and he swallowed a groan of longing that seemed to tremble upward from his very core.
Slowly dark amber orbs revealed themselves to survey her ripe hips as they moved languidly from side to side beneath her tattered skirt. Provocatively they beckoned to his male desires, and a hot fire flared in Logan’s loins, its heat scorching him. Sweet and virginal was his goddess of love, and he wanted her for his own!
While his heart hammered fiercely in his ears and his breath caught somewhere in his chest, Logan’s gaze branded the beauty before him. Valiantly he fought the urge to cut the distance between them, take her in his arms, and carry her deep into the wood where no one would find them. Somewhere in his mind he knew there were other matters of great importance that should rightfully direct his life, but he couldn’t remember what they were.
Kristiana. The music of her name spun through him, drowning out the sounds of the lute. She was all that mattered—now and forever. No longer able to keep himself from her, he prompted his feet to move, but in a flash of color another body twirled between them.
Captured by the magic of the moment, her heart crying out for her Gypsy to come to her, to bestow on her his love, Kristiana felt certain she had seen him move when all at once Liza had spun between them. The spell broken, Kristiana ceased her dance. Her body held rigid as an iron staff, she watched the sloe-eyed beauty’s adept moves. With swaying hips and slithering arms that were meant to seduce, Liza undulated before the golden-eyed Gypsy.
To Kristiana, he seemed fascinated by the girl’s alluring motions, for his gaze had riveted itself to Liza’s shapely body, watching intently as it moved fluidly, skillfully. Realizing how very foolish she must have looked to him, her own moves awkward and stiff, Kristiana felt a sob rise to her throat. The weight of her own embarrassment seemed to crush her, and she spun on her heel and fled into the wood.
At first dazed by the sudden intrusion, Logan finally blinked. His eyes focused, and he saw the tail of Kristiana’s skirt disappearing into the forest. Issuing a curse, he brushed past the stunned Liza, nearly knocking her down, and chased after the green-eyed beauty who’d inflamed his desires.
Liza’s gaze narrowed on the one called Balo, watching as he ducked into the trees. Her bare foot stamped the ground in anger, then she turned, coming face-to-face with Sidi.
“The years have been many, but you were never able to capture his eye for more than a brief moment, comely as you are, Liza. The one he hurries after is the one he loves, so it is time you set your sights on someone else. Kore would be a good husband. Try your dance of seduction on him.”
Liza curled her lip at the old woman and, with a toss of her dark head, marched away, Sidi’s throaty laughter following her. A moment later, when she was sure no one looked, she slipped into the wood.
7
The sound of breaking branches coupled with the heavy tread of running feet chased Kristiana as she bolted through the ebony-crusted woodland. Blinded by her tears, she rushed onward, the urgent call of her name pursuing her. Embarrassment drove her onward. She could not—would not!—respond.
Her heart nearly stopped when she saw she faced a stand of tightly knitted trees. Her pursuer was not far behind. She had little choice but to fight her way through the thick growth. As she rushed ahead spiked branches smote her, catching in her hair; a few threads were pulled from their roots. Reminded of another place, another time, she thought of her harrowing escape from Edward, which had ended with her fall into the Gypsy’s protective arms.
Why did he follow her? she wondered, another sob rising to her throat. To laugh at her? Mock her? Or was it to soothe her wounded pride? Oh, if the latter were only true, she would gladly go to him. But she doubted he trailed after her for any other reason than to chasten her. As he saw it, she had left the camp without permission, once again placing his people in serious danger. Because of her action she had to be punished. There could be no other reason for him to track her. After all, he loved another. His eyes had said as much when Liza had come between them. Then Kristiana wondered if the girl hurried alongside him, ready to chastise her as well.
The thought almost crippled Kristiana, but with the aid of an angry cry that helped restore her strength she tore her way from the heavy thicket. Her arms burning from a multitude of scratches, she lifted her skirt and urged her feet to fly along a wide path that cut through the wood and up a small hill. Her breaths came in shallow gasps as her heart pounded furiously in her ears. Or was it the sound of footsteps she actually heard?
As Logan circumvented the cluster of young trees he kept his eye on the shadowy figure fighting through them. Had he plunged into the tangled growth, it would have slowed his progress; she would have escaped him. Noticing she had broken their bonds, he aimed himself straight at her and headed up the slope.
Quickly his long, loping strides abridged the distance between them, shortening it to within a few feet. Determined to end the chase, he lashed out, banding his arm around her waist. A startled cry erupted from Kristiana’s lips as she was hauled back against his heaving chest. Then, in a mad foray of sailing hands that directed themselves up and back, Logan felt the sting of her anger—possibly her fear—as several blows connected sharply with his face.
His feet slid on fallen leaves and twigs as Logan strove to find a foothold to keep them from tumbling back down the incline. “Don’t fight me, love,” he crooned between winded breaths, trying to dodge her flailing hands. “You have nothing to fear.” No sooner had the words left his mouth than a bare heel forcefully struck his shin. The jolt to his leg was promptly followed by her pronouncement: “Gypsy swine!” Abruptly his own ire rose, and with a growl he turned the struggling wildcat fully around in his arms to pin her against the thick trunk of an ancient oak. “Beware, sweet,” Logan warned. “I have tamed a far more fiery vixen than you. Several, in fact.”
Her arms caught behind her waist, his long fingers girded her wrists while his superior weight pressed against her, and Kristiana found herself hopelessly trapped. Then as the tree’s rough bark scraped the exposed flesh on her arms, adding to her misery, her struggles ceased. “Then beat me!” she cried. Green eyes glistened brightly as tears of anger masked tears of pain. “You claim to be my master, so be done with it!”
In the sliver of moonlight that bled through the trees and illuminated her Logan noticed the tiny beads of silver dotting her face. The sight of her tears drained him of his wrath. Compassion filled him. And something else. Something far more enduring. “It is not with my fists I tame a woman, Kristiana.”
His hot, husky whisper fanned over her upturned face to send a heated tremor rippling through her body. Fighting off the strange feeling, its force nearly melting her resolve, she shored up her defenses and spat her words between her teeth: “If not with your fists, then tell me—how is it you subdue the weaker sex?”
“Instead, sweet, I will show you.”
Wide green eyes watched as the Gypsy’s handsome face lowered toward her own. Realizing his intent, she felt her heart tumble over itself; her breath caught in her throat, and Kristiana whipped her head aside. “Don’t!” she cried as his lips met the curve of her cheek. Then, with a gentle flick of his tongue, he licked away the sprinkles of moisture.
Unbelievably every nerve she possessed seemed to locate itself beneath the slight pressure of his roving mouth; her whole body went limp. Fearing she might liquefy at his feet, she fought off the heavenly sensations evoked by his magical touch. Why does he do this? At the question her body stiffened again. Then in her own mind, she attained the answer.
“You mock me in order to punish me!” she exclaimed, trying to free herself from the insistent onslaught of his lips. But with
the side of her face pressed against the tree, she found she could not move. “What have I done to garner such abuse?”
“Abuse?” Logan whispered in her ear. His tongue twirled in the delicate folds under his mouth. At this new invasion, Kristiana trembled—violently. His body fully against hers, Logan felt her response. Then, when a soft, agonized moan met his ears, he smiled. “My kisses are not meant to hurt you. Oh, no, sweet. They are meant to pleasure you… to—”
“They are meant to debauch me!” she interjected, certain seduction was his plan. Her virginity taken, he would then discard her as he would a whore, a few coins tossed at her feet. Wearing the guise of innocence, he would return to the camp and to Liza. The thought of such abuse infuriated her. “I’d kill myself before I’d allow any man to impose himself upon me, especially you! You’ll not use me like you would some strumpet who plies her wares at the castle gate. Now free me and go back to the one you intend to marry. Pleasure her with your kisses. In return, she might pleasure you.”
Logan’s lips had long ago stopped their foraging. Her wrists still bound by his fingers, he had leaned slightly away from Kristiana’s soft body and now gazed into her shimmering eyes. After a lengthy moment he sighed heavily; his mind was set. “I have tried, but she refuses to respond—except with the lash of her stinging tongue. Its bite is like a whip.” He shook his head dejectedly. “She spurns me, and I know not how to gain her favor. My kisses have no effect.”
Kristiana blinked, then frowned in disbelief. That didn’t sound like Liza. The girl traipsed through the camp like a mare in season, a herd of hopeful young stallions prancing after her. But there was only one prize in the entire lot with whom Liza would consent to breed, and he stood directly in front of Kristiana. She had never seen him thus: dispirited, acting much like a small boy who had been disciplined for a misdeed and now sought the security of his mother’s skirt. To her, having heard his sniveling confession, he seemed less like a stud horse and more like a braying ass!
“It is hard for me to believe you have failed in your attempts to win the favor of the one you desire,” she snapped, hoping to supply him with enough impetus to approach the woman he loved. Perhaps then he’d leave her alone. “Are you such a coward you cannot find the courage to go to her? Were you to try again, perhaps this time she would accept you.”
Logan bit his lip to keep from grinning. “I fear another rejection. I couldn’t survive it.” His crestfallen face suddenly beamed with hope. “But if you were to tutor me, show me how I should act, tell me what I should say, it is unlikely I would fail.”
Angered because he sought to use her so he might entice Liza into his arms, Kristiana glared at him. “Were you not such a dullard, you would know how to gain a woman’s affection.”
A look of surprise painted itself across Logan’s face. “A dullard? Me?”
“Yes, you!” Kristiana retorted, trying to shake loose her bonds. Instead his fingers tightened on her wrists. “See, this is what I mean. You detain me when I wish to be free. Only a dullard would persist in holding someone against his will. Do you lack the sensitivity to know you are hurting me?”
His harsh fingers eased their grip to laxly shackle her wrists. “I will free you completely once you have instructed me on how to win a woman’s affections.”
Inside her breast Kristiana’s heart seemed to tear itself to shreds. How could he be so unfeeling? Didn’t he know she cared for him? Then, as new tears formed behind her eyes, threatening to spill forth, a lump rose high in her throat to choke her, and she turned her gaze from his. “You must treat her with tenderness,” she said.
The throaty whisper floated upward into Logan’s ears. Gazing at her bowed head, he repeated: “With tenderness.”
“Yes,” Kristiana said, smothering the sob that had almost tumbled through her lips. “A-and you must always be true to her. Remember to show her your affection. Express your feelings as well. Do not make her guess as to whether or not you really love her. Tell her. Tell her often.”
“Tell her of my love… and tell her often.”
“Y-yes… often.” The pain near Kristiana’s heart was unbearable. If she didn’t escape him soon, she’d crumple to the ground, a flood of tears washing his feet. “M-may I go now?” she asked, her voice surprisingly steady. Please, oh, please set me free.
“Soon.” As his warm breath caressed her hair his eyes looked down upon her; her once-rigid shoulders seemed to slump. “Look at me, Kristiana,” he said softly.
When she refused his request with a slight shake of her head Logan shifted her wrists into one hand, where he gently held them. His free hand lifted to her face, tilting her chin upward. Their gazes met briefly, and Logan saw Kristiana’s was clouded with tears. Blue-veined eyelids closed, blocking out the sight of him; then a trickle of moisture flowed from the outer corners of each eye to fall to her breast.
Tenderly his fingers brushed away the bits of bark clinging to one cheek, then they smoothed the tears from beneath her eyes. “For whom do you cry?” he asked, wanting confirmation before he expressed the words hidden in his heart. “Are your tears for me?”
Why does he torture me so? She tried to turn away, but he held her chin fast.
“Answer me, goddess. Are they for me?”
She could no longer withstand the torment. “Yes!” she cried out in utter hopelessness, her glittering gaze meeting his again. “My tears are for you!”
“Why do you cry for me, sweet?”
Her gaze fell away. “Because… I am a fool.”
A gentle smile claimed Logan’s face. “Look at me, sweet… please.” Slowly Kristiana’s pain-filled eyes climbed upward to meet his own. “You said I must be tender, I must show my affection, and I must always be true to the one I love. I must also express my feelings, tell her of my love and tell her often. I will gladly do all those things if she, in turn, promises me the same. Will you promise me this?”
A confused frown marred Kristiana’s brow. “Me? W-why do you want such a promise from me?”
“Because, Kristiana, it is you I love.”
For almost an eternity green eyes searched those of gold. “You do not mock me, do you?” she asked, fearing his words were meant to beguile her in order to seduce her. If he purposely deceived her merely to gain pleasure, she was convinced it would destroy her. “Your heritage… I mean… You do not play me false, do you?”
His tender gaze held hers. “No, Kristiana, I do not play you false. I love you… have done so from the moment you fell into my arms.” In the dimness her eyes shone with the light of uncertainty. Still she did not believe him. “Upon my father’s grave, Kristiana, I swear it is you who has captured my heart. I love you. Do you not believe me?”
Her brow furrowed. In actuality she didn’t know what to believe. “If you truly loved me all that time, why did you spurn me? You treated me as though I were an irritant… much as you would a sliver of wood fixed deep in your thumb.”
Logan laughed, drawing Kristiana’s frown. “Because, sweet, in some ways you were an irritant… a festering splinter that gave me a good deal of pain. But you caused me a lot more worry. Through it all, my love for you was never in question. There were other thoughts, other desires, that kept me at a distance.”
“Other desires?”
A heavy breath escaped him. “Yes, and it is time you learn what they are. The truth must be known, for lies will only separate us. Come, I will explain.”
As his fingers released her wrists Kristiana stared up at him. By the gravity of his expression she was uncertain if she wanted to hear what he had to say. Exchanging places with her, he settled at the base of the old oak. His leg raised at the knee, a forearm braced itself across it. The other leg stretched itself out in front of him; then, taking her hand, he urged her to join him. Before Kristiana could seat herself on the cool earth next to him she was thrust across his lap. As his arm slipped around her waist, pressing her back against his supporting knee, Kristiana made no prote
st, for this was where she most wanted to be.
Stillness prevailed as Logan collected his thoughts. Only the night creatures could be heard, plus the intermingling of his and Kristiana’s soft breaths. How should he begin? he wondered. And when he’d finished, would she be willing to stay? At present he could offer her little except a meager way of life—that of the Gypsies.
Derisively, silently, he attacked himself. All his well-laid plans had somehow gone astray, and the cause was one small slip of a girl with liquid green eyes. He had fought to deny his feelings by keeping his mind solely on Edward, as he had since that loathsome day when his young world had been turned upside down. But little by little his predilections had shifted, an auburn-haired beauty filling every passage of his brain. She had become the one ray of light in his otherwise dismal life. At one time his fulminating hatred and constant thoughts of revenge had been the only reasons for his existence. But now there was a shining promise, one that gave him hope, and Kristiana was her name. Without her his world would turn dark again.
At the soft touch of Kristiana’s fingers on his cheek Logan gazed down at her; he smiled gently. “There is so much to say, I’m not sure where to begin,” He fought the urge to let his kisses speak for him. Through the mastery of his lips he’d convince her of his love; then, when she’d been rendered nearly senseless, he’d demand she be his. Would that it were only that easy, he thought, knowing he owed her much more.
Situating himself more comfortably against the tree, Logan leaned back. His fingers stroked Kristiana’s hair, smoothing it from her face. “You know me as Balo, the Gypsy swine.” When she opened her mouth in protest his finger covered her lips. “Hush, sweet. I’ll admit that sometimes my manners were not the best. It is a habit one easily acquires after living with the Rom.”
She gazed at him, somewhat stunned. Then again, she was not really surprised, for she had questioned whether or not he was actually one of them. “Then you did not always live with them?”
Deeper Than Roses Page 14