For the Love of a Gypsy

by Madelyn Hill

  Rafe gave an arrogant shrug. “Believe what you want, Irish. I brought Anya here. And she plans to stay, no matter how I try to convince her otherwise.”

  Actually, he had no problem with Anya residing with them. Martine would be ecstatic to have her grandmother in their home. In fact, why hadn’t he thought of it before? Martine would love the idea of having her family close by.

  “Declan?” his mother question.

  He dragged his fingers through his hair and sighed. “Mother, meet Martine’s brother, Rafe.”

  The Gypsy had the impudence to grin, roguishly accepted her hand, and kissed its surface. “A pleasure, my lady.”

  “It is a pleasure to meet one of Martine’s relatives.” She shot a look at Declan and quirked her brow. “I am certain there is more to this story than I know.”

  Declan nodded. “I will tell all over luncheon.” He looked at Rafe, who had refilled his glass once again. “Does Martine know Anya wishes to stay?”

  Rafe shook his head. “I was waiting to see if you’d permit her to stay.”

  He narrowed his eyes and looked at the man before him. His clothing marked him as a Gypsy, as did his dark eyes and skin. Yet he felt somewhat of a kinship with the nomad. Declan rubbed his eyes, entirely too weary to argue. “I will always welcome Anya in my home.”

  “A Gypsy in a lord’s home?” Rafe said with a sardonic edge.

  He watched his mother cast her glance up and down Rafe as if weighing who this man was. Most women would have run screaming, but nay, his mother stood straight and observed the interaction as if it was a normal occurrence.

  Declan scowled. “Pour me one.”

  Again that arrogant smirk. “Where’s my sister?”

  “We both know she’s not. Let go of the pretense.”

  Rafe shook his head and waved his fingers at Declan. His rings glinted in the sun streaming through the window. “You’ll never understand, but she brought a certain peace to my family.”

  “How can that be? The Rom are notorious for not accepting outsiders.”

  Rafe took a sip and held it. After he swallowed, he spoke, “The children refuse to believe she’s never coming back. Even the elders speak of her absence with dismay.”

  Declan nodded to the chair for the Kapo to sit. “She refuses to see her family.”

  The Gypsy’s gaze did not waver as Declan attempted to pin him with a withering look. “They aren’t her family, the family of her heart.”

  Aye, he’d agree to that.

  “You’ll remain for our wedding?”

  Rafe gave a careless shrug. “If it is written in the stars.”

  Damn if Declan didn’t chuckled at the arrogant man. “Aye, Kapo, then I have a plan.”

  Declan assisted Martine from the carriage. The church was quiet save for their small group. Rich stained glass, archways, and stone flooring greeted them as they entered. The gleaming pews were set in rows and lit candles graced a large altar—all of the elegant niceties the wealthy and those of the ton expected.

  “Ah, m’lord, ‘tis good to see ye again, lad.”

  Declan turned toward the priest. He was garbed in the traditional collar and black hassock, although it pulled tight over his rotund stomach. The jovial man bowed to Martine, yet couldn’t hide the curious twinkle in his eyes. “How can I be serving you today?”

  Declan clasped Martine’s trembling hand in his own. “We wish to wed.”

  The priest’s eyes widened in shock as he rocked back and forth on the heels of his shoes. “Ahhh, the banns need to be considered, to be sure.” He tugged on his double chin. “You’ll have to wait a fortnight.”

  Martine gasped and looked at him expectantly. “Father, we need to wed now.”

  Father Anthony gathered her hands in his. “It is the tradition and church law, my child.”

  Declan scoffed. “You know there are ways around the banns. Many a marriage was performed after a large donation.”

  The man looked over their shoulders to see if anyone else was in the church. “Yes,” he allowed with a grin.

  Declan laughed. The tension eased out of the situation as Martine and Father Anthony chuckled as well.

  He reached for his money pouch. “I’ve enough to placate the delicate rules of the church.”

  “A lovely donation does well to soothe the church,” the priest said as he patted Declan enthusiastically on the back. “Let’s be done with it then.”

  Declan went to the carriage to gather their witnesses. They stood near the altar with Father Anthony before them. Declan’s mother, Little, and a disgruntled Gwyneth were their only witnesses. Candlelight flickered around in a hazy, golden sheen. Martine nervously gripped her skirt, then rubbed the blue silk between her fingers. Declan had given her a bouquet of flowers and the sweat from her palms made holding them uncomfortable. Yet she felt a blessed peace. She belonged with Declan. Of that she was certain. Och, how she loved him. She watched him, proud and confident in a deep gray suit and a white shirt that offset his tanned skin and blue eyes. His dark hair was slicked back and lay over the collar of his shirt.

  He was so handsome. Strong and generous. Honorable and loving. Martine let go of her gown and slipped her hand into his. Father Anthony cocked his brow at the gesture, yet he continued directing the wedding vows.

  “One moment, Father.” Declan nodded, then called to the rear of the church. “’Tis time.”

  One by one Matthew, Lange, Nate, Rufus, and Pierce made their way down the aisle and into the empty pews. Each man had groomed in one way or another, making them presentable for such an occasion. The priest chuckled as the men awkwardly pulled at their starched collars.

  “Are we ready, then?”

  “Aye, father.” He cast a warm smile at her and then said, “We’ve another witness.”

  The door of the church opened. Rafe led an older woman with a tuft of white hair who came into the building with her head ducked.

  “Grandmother?”

  Declan grinned. “We thought you would like her to be here.”

  Martine wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly. “Thank you,” she whispered as tears threatened. “Thank you.”

  She released him and went to welcome her grandmother. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  Anya laughed. “Pash. I would never miss this day.”

  She turned toward her brother. “Thank you.”

  He embraced her and kissed her on the forehead. “For you I’d bring the moon.”

  Anya patted her arm as Martine led her to the first pew. Declan’s men moved aside so Anya and Rafe could be the closest to the couple.

  “Grand,” the priest said. “Are we ready, then?”

  “Aye, father.”

  “Heard that before, Lord Forrester.” The priest reopened his Bible and began reading a marriage blessing.

  Happiness infused her. The moment was perfect. She kept stealing glances at her groom and nearly pinched herself to make sure this was real, not some fairytale.

  “Lord Declan Forrester,” Father Anthony announced. “You may kiss your bride.”

  A rousing cheer filled the church as his mother, men, Anya, and Rafe offered their congratulations.

  She was now a married woman.

  “Right,” Father Anthony said. “Never boring around you, my lord.”

  Declan hugged her. He leaned back and gently cupped her face. She would take pleasure in looking into his face for the rest of her life. He kissed her lips softly, and then they turned to accept the congratulations from the well-wishers.

  They enjoyed a luncheon and after most had left or gone to bed, Martine had one last goodnight to say.

  Her brother gave a curt nod. “May we speak?”

  With an apologeti
c smile toward Declan, Martine left the room with her brother.

  “What can be so important you can’t wait until morning?” Although she knew the answer, sadness filled her as she watched Rafe. No matter if their relationship had experienced ups and downs, he was her brother.

  “Anya will be staying with you?”

  She chewed on her lip. “Pah. Is that what this is about?”

  He paced the foyer with quick strides. Her brother was flustered, not a trait she knew he possessed. “Am I to be the only one remaining? The last of the true Petrulengos?”

  Ah, that was it. He was lonely. Men were a hard sort. “I would like you to stay as well.”

  He glared at her. “And be stuck in this city with its noise and the English?”

  She stilled his pacing by resting her hand on his forearm. “Anya would be pleased, as would I.” His muscle tensed beneath her hand.

  “Don’t you understand? I will never belong here.” He pounded his chest as he said, “I am Rom.”

  She crossed her arms before her chest and pinned him with a glare. “Yet you expected me to marry Magor, Rafe. And I am not Rom.”

  His jaw flexed and the hard expression in his eyes softened. “I always wished you were. Tell me, you are Guaja and Rom. How will you live with these people?”

  “I will, have no worry.” Martine tipped up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. With Declan’s love, all was possible. “Please stay.”

  He shook his head and sighed. “I cannot.”

  He embraced her, one that reminded her of when they were younger and without his vast responsibilities. She held tight, knowing ‘twould be a long time before she saw him again.

  “Please,” she whispered. “Visit us again. Anya and I will need to see if you are well, and I want my children to know their uncle.”

  His smile was indulgent, tender. He brushed the side of her face with his hand. “Tell them their uncle is the Kapo and their mother was his siskkaar.”

  He walked across the marble foyer, his leather shoes clicking in rhythm to his lengthy strides. She watched him, held back threatening tears, and wished he’d turn around and decide to stay. Yet she knew his pride would never allow it and fleetingly wondered if he was right. He was Rom and would never be able to remain in one place too long.

  Declan had watched from afar. She was visibly shaken. He walked forward and embraced her from behind. “All will be well,” he whispered. She nodded and turned toward him. He gathered her in his arms and carried her up the stairs.

  Just being near her had his body ready, longing to be within her. She tipped his face toward hers and reached up for a kiss. Their mouths clashed as he devoured her lips and slipped his tongue into her mouth, loving the taste of her. He pulled back, his breath heaving.

  “Have I told you how much I love you, lass?”

  She feigned innocence as she tangled her fingers in his dark hair. “Nay, I don’t think you have.”

  “Let me show you,” he said with a husky voice as he unbuttoned the bodice of her gown. “Let me show you.”

  “I love you, Rom, Irish, or English. Never doubt that.” He pulled her into him. Her body fit against his, perfect, absolutely perfect.

  They kissed, a probing kiss filled with desire and sealed with their devotion. Ah, Declan mused as he slipped deeper into Martine’s embrace, his life had changed. For the better, to be sure.

  And all for the love of a Gypsy.

  About The Author

  Madelyn Hill has always loved the written word. From the time she could read and all through her school years, she'd sneak books into her textbooks during school in order to devoured books daily. At the age of 10 she proclaimed she wanted to be a writer. After being a "closet" writer for several years, she sent her manuscripts out there and is now published with Soul Mate Publishing. And she couldn't be happier! A resident of Western New York, she moved from one Rochester to another Rochester to be with the love of her life. They now have 3 children and keep busy cooking, watching their children's sporting events, and of course reading.

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  Please connect with Madelyn

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/madelyn.hill.94

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  Website: www.madelynhill.com

  Other books by Madelyn Hill

  Wolf’s Castle – released July 10th, 2015

  Also from Soul Mate Publishing and Madelyn Hill:

  WOLF’S CASTLE

  Can he forget the past and embrace the future?

  He’s the beast of Lomarcan Castle. Tortured, angry, and bound and determined not to allow Vivian Stuart to invade his lair. Lord Galen Maclean refuses to be endeared to the lovely woman who has landed on his island looking to study alchemy. The island possesses secrets, secrets too horrid to share with the gentle woman. However, her beguiling nature brings light to the darkness of the castle and the few quirky inhabitants and edges into his heart.

  Can she tame the beast within him to gain his love?

  She was stranded on a remote island, her father dead and dishonored by her betrothed. Still, the lovely Vivian Stuart wears her heart on her sleeve and strives to redeem Lord Maclean. She knows his heart is good and the castle can be filled with love. Through science she learns more about the troubled lord and slowly but surely, the torture lord's icy heart begins to thaw as Vivian shares the magical healing power of love.

  Available now on Amazon: http://tinyurl.com/q7fm7pg