“Do I detect a bit of cowardice?” Logan questioned, biting back a grin.
Kristiana swung herself around, meeting him face-to-face. “I am not a coward!” she insisted, fire sparking in her eyes. “There is no justice for me in your court. They have already convicted me.”
His gentle gaze ran over her face, noting the streaks where her tears had flowed. He felt his heart constrict. “Are you sure?”
“Yes!” Kristiana hissed, averting her gaze. Why did he look at her that way? Didn’t he know she had suffered enough? “Now leave me!” she cried. “They can hold their court without me.”
“They cannot,” Logan stated, coming to his feet. “Now rise to your feet, and let’s be on our way.” He noticed how she stiffened, showing her defiance. “You can do it with dignity and under your own power, or you can find yourself carted across this camp over my shoulder. Either way, Kristiana, you will stand before the elders. Now which do you prefer?”
Her lips drawn into a tight line, Kristiana stared up at him. Then she came to her feet. “I rue the day we met.”
“The regret, sweet, might be that you ever said those words.”
“I doubt it,” Kristiana stated, then she marched toward the circle of men.
Logan followed her. He had wanted to tell Kristiana what was to transpire, but he thought it better for her to see the unfolding of the events herself. Soon she would discover that within the Romany culture there was justice for all.
Several yards from the circle he stopped her progress when his hands settled onto her shoulders. Holding her still, he whispered into her ear: “We will wait and watch from here.”
Her eyes looked up at him questioningly, and Kristiana noticed that Logan’s gaze had pinpointed the area where Liza had disappeared into the wood. Her own gaze installed itself on the same location, and as Logan had said, she waited and watched.
Liza strolled from the cover of the trees to find herself greeted by two men. Immediately they escorted her to the campfire where the elders sat.
“What is this?” she questioned, her dark eyes flitting from man to man. Her own father sat among them! “Why do you detain me?”
“Testimony has been given to the Kris,” Yokka said, “that you have wrongly accused another of theft. This person charges you with stealing the necklace and earrings, and not the Gajo, as you have claimed.”
Her heart stopped momentarily, then quickly tripped over itself. “A lie!” Liza protested, at once masking her fear. “Who is this accuser, so I may spit at his feet?”
“It is not a lie,” said Kore, stepping from the shadows. His dark eyes burned into her like hot coals. “The night of the departed one’s death the Gajo was not the only one who was alone with her. After you wrapped the dead one I followed you from her wagon. From the folds of your skirt you took the dead one’s necklace and earrings to hide them in an old keg. I watched you tie it to the underpinnings of your wagon. Later you hid the dead one’s jewelry in Balo’s cart when it was left unattended.” He smiled coldly. “I watch you, Liza. Like a lovesick puppy, I have always watched you,” he said, wanting her to know he had heard her scathing remarks. “By the dead one you stole from, I swear all I have said is true.”
Liza’s eyes widened. Kore had been in the wood, and he’d purposely been led there by Balo. Knowing she had been tricked, Liza blanched; her eyes darted to her father. The man declined to look at her, and Liza realized the Kris had already pronounced her guilty. She’d be banished! Before anyone could react she lifted her skirt and ran toward the horses. A cry went up behind her as hard feet hit the ground, a handful of men chasing after her.
Snatching a tuft of mane, Liza leapt onto a mare’s back and grabbed the rope bridle. “You’ll not mar me!” she cried, knowing they’d cut her wealth of hair and slice the lobe from an ear. She kicked the horse’s flanks; it bolted from the reach of her pursuers. Mare and rider circled the camp, a feral gleam lighting Liza’s eyes. Then she spotted the one with the golden gaze. He stood in front of the Gajo, his stance protective. Liza curled her lip as she urged her mount toward them.
Logan heard Kristiana’s gasp as the mare veered directly at them. On thundering hooves the horse stopped only inches from the pair, Logan never flinched. “You are the pig! You deceived me, used me. Your kisses are poison! May a darkness settle on your heart—on both your hearts!—that is so oppressive you will never again feel a joyous light within!” she snarled, then she spat at Logan’s feet.
The men had slowly encircled her, and Liza jerked the rope. The mare reared, its flailing hooves sending the men in a backward scramble. When the mare’s forelegs hit the ground Liza propelled it into a full gallop. “A curse on you all!” she shouted as she disappeared into the night, her demented laughter echoing through the camp.
A heavy sigh escaped Logan’s chest as he turned toward Kristiana. “Finally it is over,” he said, relieved.
“You are right. It is over,” Kristiana stated, staring him down. “Liza is right. Your kisses are poison. I will now prepare to leave.”
Stupefied by her words, Logan watched as she strode off toward his cart. Jolted into action, he set a course toward her, his strides eating up the distance between them. By the saints! After all he had gone through, after all he had suffered in order to clear her name, she had better have a damned good explanation for her behavior!
9
Logan’s hand fell upon Kristiana’s shoulder to spin her around. “What do you mean—leave?” he asked, his gaze boring into her.
Kristiana’s head tilted defiantly. “I mean exactly that. I am leaving.”
A short laugh erupted from him. He smiled. “And where, sweet, do you plan to go?”
“Anyplace, as long as it is far from you!” she informed him. She turned on her heel and pointed herself toward the cart.
His smile faded; he sped after her. “The night holds many dangers, goddess. There are wolves—”
“There are wolves here!” she countered, turning on him. “And the most dangerous of all hides himself in the skin of a sheep. He is deceitful and untrustworthy. I’ll not let myself be ensnared by his lies again!”
“My lies had a purpose, Kristiana,” he said, thinking she’d listen. Instead she spat at his feet, then turned on her heel again. The action infuriated Logan, and with two strides he overtook her. Long fingers encircled her wrist, and he pulled her struggling form around the side of the cart, away from curious eyes. He released her. “You will hear me out,” he gritted between his teeth.
She attempted to run, and his hands slammed against the weathered boards to trap her between his arms, preventing her escape; Kristiana’s head bumped against the canvas, hitting the wooden stay hidden behind it. She winced; accusing eyes stared up at him. “You hurt me. You always hurt me!” she cried, fighting back tears of anger.
“And you hurt me,” Logan countered, “by withholding your trust.”
“Trust?” she chimed, eyes rounded with disbelief. “Is there such a thing where you are concerned?”
“Yes, there is,” he replied firmly. But her heated stare stated she believed otherwise. And he knew why. “I suppose when Liza said my kisses were poison, you assumed I had been dallying in the wood with her, engaging in a tryst.” Her jaw set, she turned her gaze away from him. Long fingers captured her chin. “Look at me,” he ordered. Briefly she fought against his hold, then her eyes met his anew. Logan’s hand fell away. “There was only one kiss, Kristiana, And it was meant to seal her doom. As you saw and heard, her lies were exposed by Kore. I saw no other way than playing a game of deception. I set the trap. Both Kore and Liza fell into it.”
“Are you saying you rejected me in order to catch Liza?” She saw his nod. “But how did you know she had taken Sidi’s jewelry? And Kore… what was his involvement?”
“The night Rupa found the necklace and earrings, Liza stated you had been alone with Sidi. True enough, but another had been alone with her as well. And it was after you had left
the wagon.”
“Liza,” Kristiana stated, remembering the young woman had wrapped Sidi’s body.
“Yes, Liza. When she’d finished with her task she left the circle and went to her own wagon. I remembered Kore had followed her, as he always did. I thought nothing of it at the time, except that he had extremely bad manners. In leaving, he’d been disrespectful to the dead. But when Liza had accused you—falsely, I knew—I remembered the incident. If anyone knew the truth, it had to be Kore, so I played upon his jealousy. He watched as I toyed with Liza, his hatred of me growing with each hour. When Liza slipped into the wood and I followed shortly thereafter, I hoped he would trail after us. Fortunately, he did.”
“And what exactly was it he saw that made him come scrambling from the trees to confess the truth?” she asked, her gaze centered on him.
Sparks of jealousy had ignited in her eyes; Logan smiled. “It wasn’t so much what he saw, but what he heard. I led Liza to believe I had been bewitched by you, that it was really she who held my heart.” He saw Kristiana’s mouth open. “Temper yourself and allow me to finish, will you? I told you my lies had a purpose, and they did.” Kristiana snapped her jaw shut, and Logan continued. “I told Liza I was unworthy of her, that there were others more deserving of her charms. Kore’s name rolled off my tongue, and as I expected, Liza’s lips spewed forth her true feelings about him. He hid in the trees only yards from us. I can only imagine the jolt he suffered.”
“And was there a kiss?” Kristiana asked, needing to know.
“There was,” Logan admitted. “But it was brief and unemotional, and it was done with a purpose. Obviously, it sealed Liza’s fate. When I left her only moments later Kore had already fled the wood. The rest you know.”
“Why didn’t you tell me of this ruse you had devised? Did you think I’d run to the woman and tell her to beware?”
Logan released a long breath. “Liza is no fool, Kristiana. Had she noticed you sitting apart from us, watching and waiting, she would never have fallen into the trap. She had to be convinced you were suffering from my rejection—to see your pain was genuine. I could not chance her discovering otherwise.”
Kristiana was stunned by his confession. “So you allowed me to suffer for naught. You are cruel, Logan Chandler. I’m not certain I can allow my heart to endure the pain of loving you. It has nearly killed me.”
Logan’s injured gaze fastened itself to hers. “Don’t you think I know that? I also suffered, Kristiana. Each second we were apart I had to forcefully keep myself from coming to you, from taking you in my arms, from kissing your tears away. I agonized over the pain I put you through. But I saw no other way. Had I not done what I did, you would be the one fleeing the camp, not Liza. The one difference is that I would have gone with you. I love you, Kristiana. Don’t turn me away. You are all I have. All I shall ever want.”
Kristiana could not help feeling the misery in his heart, for it matched her own; her anger fled. “Then never withdraw your love from me again.”
Logan leaned into her. “I never did, goddess,” he whispered, his lips lowering toward hers. “It has always been there in my heart.”
His lips opened, and his mouth covered hers. Eagerly it savored the sweetness beneath it. At his touch Kristiana melted against him. Then, as his probing tongue traced her lips, she allowed it entry. Once inside, it mated with her own. Fire leapt through her veins, turning her doubts to ash, and she found herself eager for the time when they would at last be man and wife. And as his arm held her crushed to his solid chest, his lips foraging, his free hand exploring, she willingly gave herself up to his desire.
A merry mood had settled over the camp, the Gypsies being in high spirits. This was the night of Balo’s and the Gajo girl’s wedding, and as Logan had said, “They live for a celebration. All that has gone before will be forgotten.”
To Kristiana, that seemed to be the case. Smiles and nods of approval had come her way the whole day through. Not quite understanding their sudden change of character, she nonetheless accepted their wishes for a good life.
As she stood in the shadows Kristiana smoothed her hand over the white shift that topped a dress of red. Rupa had stitched the two garments together in record time, presenting them to Kristiana only that morning. Kristiana didn’t ask how the material had come into Rupa’s possession, but she was confident some unsuspecting merchant now found himself in a quandary over the disappearance of several lengths of his finest cloth.
With a shake of her head her wealth of unbound hair fell away from her shoulders to cascade down her back past her waist. This was the one and only time she’d be allowed to wear it unbraided before the eyes of the Gypsies. Then, as she looked around, she wondered if Logan’s friend had arrived.
For the past day and a half Logan had paced the encampment—the same one where Kristiana had first encountered the strange society of wanderers. At every sound his concentration had been drawn away from her to settle on some distant point. After a moment he’d turn back to her. “Sorry, love, what did you say?” he’d question politely. Wondering over his constant lack of attention, Kristiana had imagined he might be experiencing second thoughts about their marriage. Then unable to withstand the suspense any longer, she had questioned him about her fears.
After his laughter had subsided and a bevy of kisses had met her face and lips, he’d assured her his jumpiness resulted from his hope that his friend might soon arrive to share in his and Kristiana’s happiness. Logan had told her nothing about this mysterious acquaintance of his other than that his name was Sebastian and that he had also suffered under Edward’s hand. “I’ll allow him to tell you how we first met,” Logan had said, a smile on his face. “But be warned, he will stretch the truth to cover his embarrassment.” As she gazed around the camp now she saw no one who looked the least bit unfamiliar. Apparently Logan’s friend had been further delayed.
“It is time,” Nanosh said from behind her. “We are to meet in the center of the camp.”
From over her shoulder Kristiana gazed up at Liza’s father and smiled. The man, who had been nearly paralyzed with embarrassment over his daughter’s actions, had most humbly requested he be allowed to act in the place of Kristiana’s own father. Knowing that he had been completely unaware of Liza’s maliciousness, Kristiana had taken pity on him, giving her consent. Earlier in the day Yokka and Nanosh had sat with the other elders. The two men shared a potent drink, the custom making the betrothal binding. Now Nanosh would lead her to her husband.
“Then let us be on our way,” she said, knowing that once the couple met, Logan must use mock force and steal her away from her “family.”
As Kristiana walked the distance, Nanosh by her side, others joined behind them. Forming together, they acted as her relatives. Across the way she saw Logan slowly coming toward her. Behind him were Yokka and Rupa, along with a band of close relations and friends. Aware of how his golden gaze had unerringly found her face, Kristiana felt a blush heat her cheeks. He was royally handsome, she thought, noticing that his long black hair shone like polished onyx in the firelight, an errant curl touching his brow. His broad shoulders were draped with a new white tunic; a wide leather belt cinched the material at his slim waist. Long, sinewy legs were covered with black trousers; black leather boots covered his feet. A Gypsy or an earl, she would love him for eternity.
The two processions finally met, and Kristiana’s heart leapt in her breast. A string of men came from behind her to form a barrier against the man who sought to steal her from her family. With a smile and a wink at Kristiana Logan stepped forward; the mock battle began. After much shoving and pushing he broke through the line, and with a squeal of outrage—an expected reaction on the part of the bride—Kristiana was thrown over his shoulder.
As she pummeled his back with her fists and kicked her legs furiously, all the while yelling her dissatisfaction, Kristiana finally let loose a giggle. “This is ridiculous!” she said for Logan’s ears alone. “Don’t t
hey have enough sense to know I’d willingly go anywhere with you?”
He chuckled. “I’m certain they do. But the show of resistance is expected. It is part of the ceremony. So make them happy.”
“If you insist,” she returned, then she pounded his back with force.
A cheer went up from her “family” as Logan winced. “Ow! Not so hard! One would think you were still angry with me.”
“One would think so, wouldn’t one? Since you are twice as large and ten times as strong as I am, this might be my one and only chance to avenge myself for all the misery you have caused me. Therefore I shall take advantage of it.”
Kristiana landed on her feet. “Don’t think of the past,” he whispered close to her ear as he straightened. “Think of the future, and the ecstasy we’ll soon share.”
Before she could respond his hands turned her around, and Kristiana found herself facing one of the elders. He was to officiate at the ceremony.
Between the couple and the man stood a low table. On the linen cloth covering its wooden surface rested a loaf of bread divided into two parts. Earlier Kristiana had promised to find the thorn that would be used to prick her thumb and Logan’s. Fortunately, while bathing in the stream she had gazed upward at the craggy hillside above her. There, halfway up the steep slope, grew a wild rose. Having dressed herself, she’d climbed the arduous incline and severed one of the flowers. With care she’d tended it, keeping its petals fresh by placing its stem in water. It now lay hidden in the pocket of her shift.
Withdrawing the rose to place it on the table, Kristiana heard Rupa’s gasp; quickly she looked to Logan. “Have I done something wrong?”
A cut flower signified premature death to the Gypsy, but Logan wasn’t about to share that information with Kristiana. “No, my love, you have done nothing wrong.”
Reassuringly, he took the rose and allowed one of the thorns to prick his thumb. A drop of blood fell onto one of the divided pieces of bread. Kristiana imitated his actions, then they exchanged the portions of loaf they held. Where red stained white they ate what the other had offered. The remaining bread was broken over their heads; the ceremony was complete.
Deeper Than Roses Page 18