It had nothing at all to do with the fact that he was something of a riddle to her with an intelligence and level of education that she could not equate with his lifestyle!
Soon Bonnie ceased to accompany the two of them on their saunters, complaining she felt left out when they chatted in Albanian or, if speaking in English, discussed subjects like poetry that she could not understand,.
“You’re too taken with that fellow,” she grumbled.
Ariana was disturbed by this observation, but soon convinced herself that there could surely be no harm in this interlude if she was to keep Lorenc at a good distance and if she continually hinted that she was meant for the arms of someone far superior to him in status.
This new resolve of Ariana’s was put to the test the next morning when he presented her with a pretty comb made of ivory and decorated with little red flowers.
Ariana turned it over in her hands with assumed scorn.
“One day I shall own combs studded with jewels,” she remarked airily. “And I shall be the wife of a most important man and live a life you can only dream of. I shall wear dresses of silk and satin and my husband will have an ermine cloak, not a woollen one such as you wear. I will be given all manner of expensive things. And none of them will be stolen either.”
Lorenc, who had been listening to her with barely repressed amusement, now gave an angry start.
“Stolen, Lady?” he growled. “This comb belonged to my mother. It is one of the very few items I possess that are a memory of her.”
“Oh.” Ariana reddened. “Then I am sorry, but you can hardly blame me for thinking as I did, when I know how you brigands make your living.”
Lorenc’s jaw tightened.
“This is base of you! You cannot know what drives these men to live the way they do. What sane being would choose a life in the mountains away from family, children and women unless he was forced to?”
Ariana paled at Lorenc’s tone, but was determined to stand her ground.
“Who forces them to steal and take hostages?”
She and Lorenc were now sitting at the rough-hewn trestle where the brigands often dined and he slammed his fist down hard on the surface.
“I swear you need a beating, Lady. What other way will they find the money to continue their struggle?”
“What struggle?” asked Ariana.
Lorenc then drew in his breath in the manner of one who has revealed more than he intended.
“Hunting, fishing, growing food, this keeps a man’s body alive,” he said in a low voice. “But then the hope of justice and the means to acquire it needs money. And if you and your companion might prove a means to an end, they will use you.”
“Why, you are no better than – beasts of the field,” retorted Ariana, with no clear thought behind her words.
Lorenc’s eyes blazed. Reaching across the table, he gripped Ariana so hard by the chin that she could not avoid his gaze.
Then he stood, leaned over and brought his angry lips to hers. His kiss was rough, brutal and intense and when he released her she could barely breathe.
“So does a beast of the field kiss!” he said coldly and stalked away.
Ariana stumbled from the table.
Her mouth felt bruised, violated. She hated Lorenc, hated him for his cruelty and utter disregard for her honour.
Reaching the cave she did not acknowledge Bonnie at the threshold, but threw herself down on her pallet, an arm across her brow.
Bonnie came in and sat down on her own pallet.
“You need to be more careful,” she then remarked coolly. “The men are beginning to wonder.”
Ariana kept her arm over her eyes.
“Wonder?”
“Why Lorenc isn’t makin’ more effort to get us to talk. They know we’re hidin’ somethin’. They know that we didn’t come here to Albania on a duck hunt! Ilir says he’s tired of the waitin’. He says – ”
“I don’t want to know what he says!” said Ariana sharply.
“I’m only sayin’,” sniffed Bonnie. “I don’t mind stayin’ here now, I’m sure. But you shouldn’t encourage Lorenc. You’re supposed to be engaged to the Prince, if you haven’t forgotten.”
“I have not forgotten.”
Ariana did not look at Bonnie as she delivered these words. She did not catch the look on Bonnie’s face, that jealous look of someone who feels ignored while another is openly favoured.
It would have been better if she had.
CHAPTER THREE
Ariana had plenty of time to ruminate miserably on her altercation with Lorenc.
She did not see him for the rest of that day and later on that evening she learned that he had left the camp.
She might have imagined him going to barter for her release except that he knew nothing of Prince Stefan.
She was certain that Bonnie had kept silent on the subject of the Prince because the maid seemed so content now to remain at the camp.
Here, in the mountains, the maid was as free as she would ever be. The brigands she could consider less than her equal in that they were right outside of the law while she was not and at the same time her relationship with her Mistress, Ariana, was now on a more intimate footing than would be possible in Society back in England.
Musing to herself Ariana had to admit that, just as Bonnie did not seem to want to leave the brigands’ camp, so Lorenc did not seem to want his hostages to go away and appeared in no hurry to capitalise on their existence.
She did not want to think of Lorenc, but the fact was she missed him. He had dishonoured her with that kiss and yet her lips burned anew at the mere thought of it.
In the night, lying awake on her pallet, she pressed her fingers to her mouth as if to recreate the pressure from Lorenc’s lips. She should be imagining the kiss of Prince Stefan, but it was Lorenc’s dark eyes that flashed at her when she closed hers.
She realised that not only had she become rapidly accustomed to this life in the mountains but she was, until this quarrel with Lorenc, happy here. She felt a free spirit, freer than she had ever been in London under her uncle’s indifferent eye.
How much of this was due to Lorenc?
Always her mind would wander back to him. He might be a brigand, but his bearing was so noble, he had such natural dignity, such strength! Had she not provoked him to that kiss, rude as it was?
Sadly she sighed in the darkness. She missed him, but he must never know that.
She must never reveal her illicit desire. She was destined for another and only by breaking her promise and rejecting the path of duty could she allow herself to dream of Lorenc’s embrace.
She next wondered if Prince Stefan, surprised by her failure to arrive at Castle Dukka by now, had sent word to Uncle Konstantin. Would her uncle care at all if she never surfaced again?
He had achieved his aim to dispose of her with as little disruption to his way of life and his purse as possible.
In the daytime she struggled desperately to retain her composure. She took her walks as usual, followed at a discreet distance by Gorci or another of the brigands.
No doubt they had been ordered to keep an eye on her in Lorenc’s absence. They could not be sure that she would not try to escape again.
She, of course, knew that she would not, as, if she succeeded, she would never see the King of the Brigands again. Worse her escape must lead to the discovery and capture of Lorenc and his men.
She and Bonnie barely spoke now.
Ariana was surprised to note that Bonnie had been learning a few Albanian words, so she could now conduct a conversation of sorts with their captors and she no longer needed her Mistress to make herself understood.
One evening after supper, staring soulfully into the red flames of the fire, Ariana heard Ilir mention his Chief. She lifted her head, as did Bonnie, who had understood.
“When is Lorenc returning?” Ariana asked him.
Ilir shrugged.
“When he has finished his busi
ness.”
“What is that business?” she enquired daringly.
Ilir glanced round at the other men and gave a short laugh and answered,
“The business is matrimony. He is bringing back news of a bride!”
Ariana heard Bonnie give out a gasp, while her own heart turned a somersault.
“A – bride?” she echoed.
Ilir nodded.
“Yes. Maybe many brides. We don’t know. Some here have their wives at home. But others don’t and what chance do we have to meet women? We cannot live like this, just men. With only you two, who are of no use!”
“No use to whom?” came a voice from the dark.
The men started to their feet, while Ariana’s heart gave a lurch of apprehension.
She had recognised Lorenc’s voice. And indeed a second later he stepped into the firelight, leading his white horse by the rein.
Ilir stood silent under Lorenc’s questioning gaze.
“Of no use to whom?” Lorenc repeated.
Ilir stared at the ground before replying,
“To anyone here, Chief. Can we ravish these two captives or marry them? And why do we keep them here so long? Anyone else we would take a horsewhip to them to make them talk, but these we treat like Royalty.”
Lorenc looked round at the watching circle of men.
“Who else feels like this?”
The men shifted uneasily.
“It’s true what Ilir says,” one piped up eventually. “These girls are worth a good ransom, if we could only find out where they were heading when we captured them. We are far too lenient with them.”
Lorenc’s eyes gave an angry flash.
“It is I who am too lenient, harbouring snakes like yourself and Ilir in our midst. No one, you hear me, no one touches a hair of Ariana’s or Bonnie’s head. Remember that or you will have me to answer to.”
There was a moment’s silence. Some of the men looked shame-faced.
Ilir seemed unrepentant.
“How long are we to keep them here?” he growled.
Lorenc swung angrily round on him.
“As long as I say so. Do you understand?”
Ilir regarded his Chief and then dropped his eyes with a shrug.
“We’ve got nothing against these girls, Chief. We feel that the longer they are here, the more likely it is that someone will come looking for them and that could be bad for us. We may need to move further into the mountains.”
Lorenc considered this.
“We may have to do just that. After the weddings.”
At this the men gave a sudden cheer.
Ariana, who had been following this odd exchange closely, now blenched. So it was true what Ilir had said. Lorenc had gone to find a bride for himself and the others!
She glanced at Bonnie and her head was low.
Ilir now smiled and questioned Lorenc eagerly.
“Where did you find women willing to join us?”
“From amidst your own kind,” was Lorenc’s reply.
This seemed to satisfy Ilir, but it puzzled Ariana.
What did that ‘own kind’ mean? Were these future brides of Lorenc’s his ‘own kind’ too?
The men then dispersed, talking excitedly.
Ariana and Bonnie rose to go, but Lorenc motioned them to remain.
“I have brought something for you both,” he said gruffly and turned to the pack saddle on his horse.
Reaching in he drew out a large package tied with rope and threw it to the ground.
“What is it?” asked Ariana, eyeing it dubiously.
“Look and see,” was the curt reply.
Ariana crouched by the package and tried to untie the knot on the rope. It proved impossible and so with an impatient oath Lorenc knelt down and took out a knife.
Ariana held her breath to feel him so close, his arm brushing her own.
Without so much as a glance at her Lorenc cut the rope away. The package then fell open and out tumbled an array of brightly coloured dresses.
“Clean clothes!” breathed Bonnie. “And ooh, ain’t they colourful?”
Colourful they most certainly were. Four dresses, two skirts, petticoats, bodices and slippers with curled up toes, all in vivid colours of scarlet, emerald and gold.
Ariana picked up a skirt dubiously.
“We shall look like gypsies,” she remarked.
Lorenc narrowed his eyes.
“As a matter of fact that is where these came from – gypsy women, who, when I explained your plight to them, took pity on you both.”
Ariana caught her breath.
Gypsy women? Is that what Lorenc had meant by Ilir’s ‘own kind’? Was Lorenc himself a gypsy?
He certainly had a nobler bearing than she could imagine a gypsy possessing. But then when had she ever met a gypsy that she should entertain such a prejudice?
Bonnie was regarding Lorenc closely.
“Are you bringing gypsy women here as brides for the men?” she asked him brazenly.
“I am,” Lorenc replied shortly.
Bonnie put her head on one side.
“And have you a bride for yourself?”
Ariana looked up in dismay.
“Bonnie!” she called out sharply.
She meant it as a reprimand, but she was too honest not to acknowledge to herself that it was also a question that she did not wish to hear answered.
“I can ask if I like, can’t I?” said Bonnie sulkily.
“You may indeed ask if you like,” replied Lorenc softly. “But at the same time I may not care to answer.”
“Suit yourself!” Bonnie shrugged, but she could not hide the fact that she was put out by Lorenc’s reply.
Ariana glanced towards Lorenc and was disturbed to see that he was obviously appraising the maid with new eyes. Indeed his gaze ran up and down her body with a certain appreciation.
Ariana felt a surprising surge of jealousy and so she quickly turned her attention to the pile of gypsy clothes.
“These are v-very pretty,” she murmured. Ariana did not look up as he strode away. She just rose, scooping up some of the clothes.
“Let’s go and try them on.”
At the cave they removed the worn dresses they had arrived in and then stepped out of their frayed petticoats.
Ariana moved to the mirror and Bonnie undid the buttons on her dress, letting it and the petticoat beneath slip to the floor. She stepped out, clad only in her bloomers and bodice, which Bonnie began to unlace.
The bodice then loosened and Ariana was about to remove it when she heard Bonnie gasp and looked up.
Lorenc stood there at the cave entrance, his gaze on Ariana where she stood undressed before the mirror.
Had she looked at herself she would have seen what he saw, a girlish figure, lithe of limb, slender of calf and her skin a pale gold where it had been touched by the sun and alabaster where it had remained concealed, her hair glistening like spun sugar in the candlelight.
With a cry of dismay she crossed her hands over her breast, clutching the bodice to her.
“My most humble apologies, madam,” said Lorenc huskily. “I came with these shawls I had forgotten to take from the pack saddle – ”
His voice trailed away. His eyes seemed to seethe in the semi-darkness like water in a hot spring.
Ariana felt her breast heave under his stare and her limbs tremble like reeds in the wind. She must not let him guess at the effect that he was having on her.
“I accept your apology,” she said with a coldness she did not feel. “Now would you please leave?”
Lorenc said nothing. Gently dropping the shawls he held in one hand to the ground he turned and was gone.
Ariana stared after him and the darkness into which he disappeared could not have more perfectly reflected the darkness she felt descend over her soul or the future that awaited her with Prince Stefan of Dukka.
*
Although the gypsy dresses were clean, they were not new and on
e or two were torn. Bonnie asked for needle and thread so that she could mend the hems.
“Just look at this!” cried Bonnie, holding up the needle. “It’s the size of a fish-hook. How am I supposed to work with that?”
“I suspect it’s all you will get,” said Ariana calmly. “Anyway it does not matter how rough your handiwork looks. There is no one here to care.”
Bonnie sniffed.
“They might not care. But they’ll comment soon enough. Especially them gypsy women.”
The question of the arrival of the women had hung in the air for some days after Lorenc’s return. Neither of them discussed what was really on their minds, whether or not one of the women was ear-marked for Lorenc himself.
The day of the mass wedding was announced and the two captives were soon caught up in the preparations.
Ariana even found herself skinning rabbits beside Bonnie and Gorci.
“This is disgusting!” she protested.
Gorci shrugged.
“What you eat, you should prepare.”
Ariana flushed red, aware that Bonnie was hiding a smirk behind her hand.
The day dawned.
They rose early. Emerging from their quarters they noticed that many of the men sported newly cut beards and moustaches and had tied on clean neckerchiefs.
Lorenc was nowhere to be seen.
Shortly before noon there came a shout from the lookout and soon after that two wagons rolled into view. By the driver of the first wagon Ariana espied the figure of a country Priest in rough hessian robes.
The wagons then drew up and Ariana’s heart sank as more than twenty gypsy women leapt out.
They were so – so handsome, with flashing black eyes, vivid features and manes of wild hair.
One in particular caught her eye, a tall raven-haired woman with an ample bosom and a haughty stance. Her dark eyes, although a little too close together, burned with intelligence and scorn. She looked a fitting Queen for a King of the Brigands.
The men ran excitedly about the new arrivals, each trying to determine which woman was theirs.
Ariana supposed it was Lorenc who would have the last word on the matter. But where was he?
As if echoing Ariana’s thoughts, the raven-haired woman detached herself from the crowd and looked round.
Double the Love Page 4