The Judge and the Gypsy

by Sandra Chastain

  Following the bear’s example, Rasch turned and jogged back to where Savannah was standing, white-faced and trembling.

  “Are you all right, Gypsy?”

  He gathered Savannah in his arms and held her, his heart pounding in unison with hers.

  “Crusader, you idiot! Who do you think you are, Superman? That bear could have ripped you limb from limb! What did you plan to do, outrun it?”

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. She was upbraiding him just as his mother had decades earlier, when he’d rushed into the street to jerk a smaller child out of the path of a speeding car. His mother had been afraid too. Now Savannah’s arms were holding him, clinging to him desperately. She made no attempt to hide her fear.

  “Suppose you’d been killed? I need you.” She wasn’t making any sense. Fear had loosened her tongue. Not fear for herself, but for Rasch. “Oh, Crusader …”

  This time they initiated the kiss mutually, lips merging, tongues plundering simultaneously, bodies pressing into each other as if fused. Her arms twined around his neck, drawing his head down and holding him as tightly as he was holding her.

  His tongue withdrew momentarily to circle her lips possessively as if branding them his, then reentered her mouth to parry and thrust as his hands found the voluptuous globes of her breasts and fondled them lovingly, masterfully.

  He didn’t speak. He couldn’t. All he knew was that he’d almost lost her before they’d given free rein to the passion that flamed between them. There was no holding back now, no resistance, no reluctance.

  They were inside the tent again, leaving their clothes on the damp grass outside as they explored each other’s bodies with wonderment and yearning.

  With expert hands he stroked her breasts, rolling the nipples between his fingers until she cried out with delicious agony. Leaving a trail of butterfly kisses down her neck and shoulder, he captured one hard bud in his mouth and began to lave tantalizingly with his tongue, while his hand found her womanly wetness and played sweet music there until she thought she’d swoon. She reached for him then, feeling in his swollen manhood all the molten desire that coursed through her, and as he lifted himself above her, lightning sparks seemed to explode wherever heated skin touched heated skin.

  Savannah forgot her plan, forgot to exult in her success as they joined in the ultimate intimacy and became one flesh, one being. They’d escaped death, and that was all that mattered. He’d risked his life for her, and each thrust of himself in her welcoming sheath brought her new life, new rapture.

  She wanted him, Rasch thought crazily, as much as he wanted her. They were irrevocably connected now, soaring with the gods. Olympus was reached and surpassed when their release flung them into a corner of the heavens before sending them floating back to earth in a dreamy state of tranquillity.

  He lay suspended in the wonder of the moment before he felt the brisk air slap his bare backside. With a groan of regret he rolled to his side, drawing Savannah into his arms, bringing the sleeping bag over them as an intimate cocoon.

  Making love with this Gypsy woman was so incredible that he couldn’t begin to believe what he’d experienced. This was some waking dream, some erotic fantasy he’d conjured up. He closed his eyes, determined not to think or question. He just wanted to feel.

  Rasch cared about her, really cared. The idea broke over Savannah like the icy wind from which Rasch had tried to protect her. She was lying in his arms, still caught up in the ecstatic satiety of their lovemaking, still tingling from the wonder of the feelings he’d evoked. She never expected to experience such rapture, such fulfillment. Even now she could barely believe what had happened.

  For weeks she’d plotted her revenge. She’d make the judge fall in love with her, make him want her beyond reason, then she’d disappear, leaving him hurting just as she and her father had hurt when Tifton had died. At one point she’d actually considered killing the man who’d just risked his life to save her.

  But the conflicting emotions raging through her were being overwhelmed by a stream of euphoria, delightful feelings of being cherished and exalted. She couldn’t close them off. Rasch cared about her. Her plan seemed to be working, she decided as she felt the renewed movement of his fingertips on her breast. Or was it only that she was caught up in a web of her own spinning?

  At the moment she couldn’t seem to think clearly. All she could focus on was the knowledge that she’d have to leave soon. But, she rationalized, the miracle of their single joining was enough for her. She couldn’t be sure about Rasch, though. She wouldn’t leave yet—not until she was certain of the outcome. Making love to Rasch had been the undefined part of her plan; enjoying it was simply an unexpected benefit, she told herself as she slid her leg across his thighs and pressed against him.

  “You risked your life for me,” she whispered. “How did you know the bear was there?”

  “I didn’t. It was the chipmunk,” he answered, burying one hand in her hair while the other encircled her breast.

  “The chipmunk?” He was suffering from aftershock, or maybe it was her. She was again falling under the spell of his lips and the tantalizing sensations aroused by his caresses.

  “I went into the woods to take a—to, well, anyway, while I was there, a chipmunk jumped up on a log. I thought he was just laughing until I realized that he was trying to tell me something, something urgent.”

  “A chipmunk told you that I was in danger?”

  “Yes. I don’t know how, but I knew.”

  Savannah was stunned. Outside of a few people in the circus, she’d never known of anyone besides herself to have that kind of link with animals. She never expected Rasch to acquire it. “It isn’t hard to communicate,” she said softly.

  “Yesterday I wouldn’t have believed any of this, Gypsy, but you seem to have some strange power over my mind as well as my body.”

  “Your body?”

  “Yes. It’s communicating its needs quite distinctly. Can you feel it?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said.

  This time their ascent to the heavens was slow and delicious. And he was right. There was a power in their lovemaking. Power and release. Gentleness and warmth. Savannah fell asleep in her lover’s arms. It wasn’t until later, when she waked happy and content, that she faced the truth. Her plan had been altered.

  Outside the tent the sky had cleared and the sun made little diamonds of light on the water. Rasch was whistling. She heard him before she crawled out of the tent and searched the area, finding him standing beside the water holding a handmade fishing pole.

  At the sound of her movement he turned around and smiled. “As much as I like you that way, Gypsy, you’d better put on your jeans and shirt. It’s pretty nippy out here.”

  Savannah could have tried to cover her nudity as she retrieved her pillowcase, but it seemed a bit late for modesty. Besides, she liked the idea of him staring at her body, responding to her as she knew he was. The magnetism was as strong between them now as it had been in the truck when he’d first invited her to get in. Almost reluctantly she pulled on underwear and her new clothes. She sat and donned her red socks and boots, feeling the heat of his gaze with every move she made.

  Her plan was definitely working—perhaps too well. There was a danger in that. It was Rasch alone she wanted to fall in love, Rasch alone who was supposed to become besotted, not her.

  Something tightened in her throat. Fear? Desire? She didn’t know how to deal with that kind of emotion. She’d never been tested like this before. She had to slow things down, put some distance between them.

  “About what happened, Crusader, I think we ought to talk about it,” Savannah said hesitantly.

  “What about what happened?” Rasch asked warily.

  “It’s understandable. I—I was afraid. We were caught up in the emotion of the situation, that’s all. I don’t think we ought to let it happen again.”

  That was the last thing he’d expected to hear. “I disagree,” he said honestly.
“Of course I know we were caught up in the fear of the moment, but personally I thought our lovemaking was”—his voice dropped lower—“was spectacular.”

  “Please, Crusader. I should never have yielded. I’m wrong for you. I’m a temporary kind of woman. And I think that you’re a very permanent man.”

  “I thought you were a Gypsy, Savannah. A Gypsy doesn’t question fate. How can you know who belongs together and who doesn’t?”

  “I don’t know, Crusader. I’m just a simple voyager, a traveler, sharing your trail for a while. I don’t have any answers. But I think we need some time, some distance …”

  Rasch looked at her, noting the confusion in her eyes, the way she folded her arms across her body and hugged herself, as if she were trying to hold back the natural feelings that they’d shared. He didn’t understand her reluctance or the distance she was putting between them after this morning, but he couldn’t force himself on her.

  Making love had to be her choice, made freely. For now he’d wait. There was still much he would learn about his mystery woman, and learn he would, sooner or later. They still had nine days, and he didn’t believe for a minute that she could stay out of his arms.

  “Have you caught anything?” she finally asked, trying to curtail her response to his signals as she came to stand beside him.

  “Our breakfast, or, rather, considering the time, our lunch.” He took a deep breath and stepped away. Giving her time was very hard to do when she was so close.

  “I’m sorry, am I disturbing you?”

  “Hell yes. You disturb me continuously. You turn me inside out just by standing there.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll go back to the fire.”

  “No. Stay. It isn’t your fault that all I want to do is kiss you to smithereens and feel you against me.”

  “Yes, it is,” she answered honestly. “But you have a quest, and so do I.”

  “At this moment, Gypsy, I think I could cheerfully spend the rest of my life right here on this riverbank. But unfortunately I have to be in Asheville in nine days. I restarted the fire. Why don’t you check on it while I clean the fish.”

  But the lightness had gone out of the day. Savannah didn’t want to think about leaving. She didn’t want to think about what she’d lose by refusing to continue what they’d shared. She hadn’t planned on the bear. And she was still struggling with her reaction to their lovemaking. She needed some time to think and perhaps reformulate her plan. For now, all she could do was try to conceal from him her true feelings.

  “Do you think our bear left?” she asked brightly.

  “According to the birds, she did.”

  Savannah looked up, startled to find that he’d moved back beside her. “You’re communicating with the birds now too?”

  “Communicating? Yes, I think so. I feel as if my body is in tune with the universe. You did that to me.”

  “I did?”

  He frowned, gave her a quick, hard kiss, and let her go. “Yes. I don’t know why you’re having second thoughts. No matter what you say, you’ve cast a spell over me, my Gypsy queen. You’ve changed my life forever.”

  A cloud passed briefly over the sun and cast a shadow on Rasch’s face. Savannah shivered. “No, no spells, I haven’t put my spell on you, not yet.”

  What he’d said was too close to the truth. She’d intended to fascinate him, mystify him, make him intensely aware of her. She’d never paid much attention to Zeena’s claim that Gypsies had certain powers to seduce and claim a man’s soul. Not until she’d determined to capture the judge. Still, she hadn’t tried any of the incantations she’d learned. The bag of love potions Zeena had pressed into her hand was still unopened in her bag.

  Quickly Savannah added wood and poked at the fire. Her skirt and blouse had been rinsed in the lake and were draped across the grass beside her sleeping bag to dry in the sun. Consciously she averted her eyes away from Rasch as she walked past him to fill the coffeepot from the lake. Using green sticks cut from a willow beside the lake, Rasch threaded them through their fish, fashioning a rotisserie, and set them to roast over the fire.

  The smell of the cooking fish filled the air, and Savannah realized how hungry she was.

  They broke off hot chunks of the fish and blew on them to cool them before filling their mouths. Between the two of them, they ate all four fish Rasch had caught, washing them down with the hot coffee.

  “Tell me about yourself, Gypsy,” Rasch said, licking a sliver of fish from his fingers. “Where do you live when you aren’t dropping from the sky or disappearing in a puff of smoke?”

  “I live everywhere and nowhere,” she said vaguely.

  “Sure, and you charm strangers into buying you food and clothes, and providing you with transportation?”

  “No. Not usually. I travel with friends. You know us Gypsies. We take care of ourselves.”

  Rasch leaned back on his elbows and stared at her. “How?”

  The conversation was becoming too personal. Her best hope at evasion was to continue the Gypsy fantasy he’d latched on to. “Off the land and our skills,” she said playfully, standing. “Right now I’m going to wash these things and pack our supplies.”

  As she leaned over, gathering up the remains of their meal, her breasts pushed against the fabric of her shirt. The jeans, tight and new, hugged her lush curves. He heard the light tinkle of her bells as she rinsed the dishes in the lake. She might have removed her Gypsy clothing, but the bells were like her fragrance, a subtle reminder of her voluptuous mystery. Leaving the water’s edge, she sat down to braid her hair into a long plait that hung down her back.

  Her hair, uncombed and wildly tousled a moment ago, made Rasch remember his earlier thoughts of how she’d look rolling from a man’s bed. A man’s bed? His bed. His pulse began to race. Had it been only twenty-four hours ago?

  “Where will we camp tonight?” she called out.

  The thought of what the night would bring made it hard for Rasch to concentrate on an answer to her question. He was practically in thrall to the woman and the spell she was weaving around him. When Jake had told him to find a woman and try to relax, Jake never knew what he was suggesting.

  “It depends on how fast we move.”

  Rasch felt a stirring in his body, an eagerness that was new and exciting. The chattering of an overhead bird seemed an admonition to forget about questions and answers. He watched as Savannah put the final twists in her braid and fastened it with a ribbon. She was so beautiful, so wild, so enchanting. He felt as if he’d stumbled into Brigadoon, and that if he closed his eyes, it would disappear. She had to have been as surprised as he over the intensity of their lovemaking. For her as well as for himself, the pleasuring had to have been beyond anything previously experienced, and in the emotional domain as well. That was why she was backing away. He wouldn’t think about tonight. He’d wait until she was ready to love him again. In his heart, he knew she would be.

  Suddenly all the worry and indecision he carried around with him vanished. The courtroom seemed a thousand miles away. Crime, misery, pain—all gone. He had nine days before he had to face reality again.

  Rasch began to whistle as he took down the tent and folded it. He shook out the sleeping bag, breathing in the lush, sweet smell of the tea olive blossoms, her smell, the fragrance that he’d carry with him always. In no time they were moving again.

  She’d been the one to pull away. He hadn’t been strong enough to do it.

  She wanted time. That was probably wise. Fine—they’d be two people traveling together, nothing more. For now there would be no more questions.

  But even as he censored himself, he knew that the truth was somewhere in the distance, waiting, yet submerged in the physical awareness of two people who touched without touching and connected with each touch.

  They had nine more days.

  He could wait.

  Five

  Rasch and Savannah made camp by a waterfall the following night, sleeping apart
in silent misery. Each waited for the other to reach out. Neither did.

  Daytime was better. For the next two days they climbed steadily, pausing now and then to enjoy a spectacular view of a valley or a mountain in the distance.

  Savannah stayed close, not appearing to be winded or tired. As she’d said, the new boots didn’t bother her. Neither did the physical exertion. She seemed to thrive on the exercise, letting her laughter come free and easy as they exchanged information.

  Rasch was beginning to see to what extent Savannah was an exceptional woman. She didn’t need conversation or reassurance. She knew how to enjoy the quiet beauty of the woods. She found wildflowers still blooming in protected spots. Wild animals didn’t hesitate to show themselves when they stopped to view a special tree or scene. There was an innocence about her that made the day brighter.

  Rasch felt as if he were traveling through a fantasy land surrounded by the animals who were always there, just out of sight, but a part of their caravan. And he sensed that Savannah was touched by what was happening as well. She constantly reached back to take his hand and point something out to him. Each time she held it a little longer and released it more reluctantly.

  Rasch shed his brusque demeanor, and Savannah liked the gentle, vulnerable man who emerged. He talked about his childhood and his mother, who’d tried so hard to defeat the demons that possessed her. About how he’d decided early on that he would never endanger anyone he loved by bringing them into the kind of life where they might be threatened by the world’s evil. There was no time for personal commitments. He’d directed his energies to reach his goal.

  Savannah could understand that. Even as a child she’d understood commitment. And she’d focused on taking her mother’s place, caring for her father and her brother. Her goals had been less grand than Rasch’s, but no less important. The circus became her world, and that world had closed out personal relationships too.