Jesus God! Tristan felt a pulse hammer in his brain as his body tightened to agonizing proportions. She wore a purple skirt and another red blouse. Only this one was bigger than the first. It hardly covered her at all, for it constantly slipped off one shoulder and then the other, offering daring glimpses of rounded golden flesh. She was stroked by the flickering flames of a fire, and Tristanshivered with the longing to run his fingers over her softness, to tease his senses with her taste and smell. And he would. Damn it, he would!
Tristan's lips thinned into a tight, straight line. God damn her! She wouldn't dance for him, not when he'd offered to pay her for it. Claimed she didn't know how and now, when she wasn't looking at him, she was practically begging her partner to reach out and touch those swaying, partially exposed breasts. Tristan's head pounded with frustrated rage; his hands curled into fists as he watched. If the Gypsy dared to touch her, he was going to —
"Beautiful, isn't she?"
"Who?" Tristan asked as he realized Edward was standing at his side watching the uninhibited seduction of every god-damned man here. Silently he promised this woman would never dance again, except for him.
Edward hid his chuckle behind a cough as Tristan moved restlessly beside him. He didn't have to to know that Tristan had crossed his legs before him in an effort to disguise his immediate needs. He couldn't blame his friend. It had been long time since either of them had seen such an erotic display. He had no doubt that many present suffered as did his friend, for she was the kind of woman who could easily stir a man's blood. She at once a seductress, practiced in the art of enticing a man, luring him, tempting him to reach out and take what she offered, and yet there was something oddly virginal about her, something he couldn't quite grasp. It made for a beguiling combination, one where a man might chance everything to claim her, to be caught in her siren's call.
Tristan's eyes were hard as he watched the Gypsy dance. But more than hard, they were filled with determination. And Edward knew Tristan was forming a plan. "What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to take her home with me."
"You mean bring her to the Colonies?" Edward asked with no little amazement. "Kidnap her?"
Tristan nodded. "That's exactly what I mean." For the first time he forgot to remind his friend that America was no longer a colony. "And if I have to kidnap her to do it, so be it."
"Jesus, do you know what the hell you're saying?"
"I'm saying that woman is going to belong to me," he said with finality.
"And her family?"
"Can go to hell for all I care."
"If you don't find yourself there first." Edward shook his head. "Don't you see how protective they are? They're not about to just let you take her."
"They don't have a choice." His voice lowered and took on the mixture of despair and yearning that glittered in his eyes. "And neither do I."
"How?"
"After we leave, I'll circle back." His mouth thinned into a tight line of disapproval as he watched her spin again. Silently he wished every man here blind, so they wouldn't see her legs. "I'll hide in the woods and wait for everyone to sleep."
"You're insane."
"Probably."
Edward's long sigh told clearly of his disgust. Finally he remarked, "I can't let you do it alone. They'll kill you."
"I need you to bring the horses back." Tristan pulled his gaze away from Meg and grinned. "I'll be fine." I'll be better than fine once my body is buried inside this woman, he silently finished.
The music came to an end and Meg fell into her cousin's outstretched arms. Nicoli laughed as he hugged her to him and swung her in a circle. "Ah, so you cannot dance, little one?" he grinned las he put her down. "You hope to fool Nicoli, eh?"
Meg lowered her gaze to the ground and Pushed prettily. She hadn't known she had it in her to move so freely, so brazenly. "I never did before."
"Ah, now I know you try to fool Nicoli."
"Leave the girl be," Nanna interrupted as she took a red-faced Meg to her side and guided her away from the others.
Nanna offered her a handkerchief, and Meg wiped her face and neck free of the perspiration the dancing had caused.
"You dance for that man, child?"
"What man?"
Nanna grinned, for Meg's eyes had moved to the man in question the moment the dancing had stopped. They had exchanged a long look, hers filled with animosity, his with a silent as yet unknown promise. "The one who watches you all day. The one who eats you with his eyes. Tristan Hall."
So Tristan Hall was his name. Not that it mattered what the man's name was. He was obnoxiously arrogant, and Meg swore if she had to withstand another minute of his eyes upon her, she was going to scream. If she had any measure of luck at all, she'd never lay eyes on him again. Please, God.
"No, Nanna," Meg returned, "I wasn't dancing for him. I was dancing in spite of him."
Nanna chuckled in disbelief, her black eyes shining, her face creasing into a thousand beautiful wrinkles. Meg felt the heat of tears behind her eyes. She didn't want to leave this woman. Not ever.
"But you will, little one. I don't want to see you go, but this is not where you belong." The old woman knew where Meg belonged, but she also knew her great-granddaughter was not ready to hear it.
Meg's eyes widened with surprise. Had her great-grandmother actually read her mind?
"Your eyes tell much, Meggie."
Meg smiled. "Perhaps I can convince Father to let me stay on for a bit."
Nanna's smile was sad. "We'll see, child."
It was late. That obnoxious Tristan Hall, his friend, and the four horses they'd bought had left more than an hour ago. Meg yawned, suddenly exhausted with relief to see him gone at last. She bid her cousin Marta good night and moved to the wagon she shared with Nanna. Meg was just about to reach for the door when a hand came suddenly over her mouth. At the same instant an arm with the strength of steel crushed at her waist and picked her up. Within seconds she was fifty feet from the wagon. Meg's heart pounded with terror. What was happening? Why? Who was this man who dragged her from her family?
Meg was terrorized and Tristan knew it. He could hear her low moans of fear, feel the stiffening of her body, the pounding of her heart beneath his hand. He wouldn't see her frightened. Not if he could help it. He stopped and stood her before a tree, pressing her against the rough bark with the weight of his body.
"Don't scream. Promise me you won't scream and I'll take my hand away."
Meg felt her knees give out in relief. The shadowy form was Tristan Hall. She nodded vigorously.
His hand slid cautiously from her mouth.
"What are you doing here? What do you want?"
"You."
Meg hit his chest with the palms of both hands. The action did nothing toward pushing him away. "Are you mad?" she whispered, knowing even the slightest raising of her voice would alert the entire camp. She didn't want to think what her cousins would do to this man if given the chance. She certainly couldn't abide the man, and yet she was suddenly loath to see him hurt.
Meg felt no fear of him. Oddly enough she believed he posed no real danger. She knew she could talk her way out of his obvious intent. If that proved impossible, though, she'd scream.
"I don't know. I might be." Tristan grinned down at her glare. "I've certainly never kidnapped a woman before."
"And you won't be kidnapping one tonight, either." She tried to shove him away again, to no avail.
"Won't I?" Tristan chuckled. "Who's going to stop me?"
"Wait a minute," she said as she felt his arm go around her again. "There's no need for you to do this."
"Isn't there?"
"No."
"Will you come willingly then?"
"Yes. Yes. I promise. I promise, I'll come. Just ell me where you want to meet."
Tristan laughed, the low sound caused an odd flutter in her chest as it blended with the soft summer breeze that filtered through the trees. "There's no need to me
et me; I'm already here."
"But I can't leave tonight."
"Why?"
"Because. . . . because My . . . Nanna is ill. he needs me. I'll meet you tomorrow, anywhere you say."
"Not good enough. If I remember correctly, you promised to meet me once before. Why should I believe you now?"
"I swear it."
Tristan pretended to think on her offer, but finally shook his head, and Meg's heart sank. She knew there was nothing she could say to convince him. Nothing she could say to get out of this mess. She was just going to have to scream and the devil take the consequences. "If you take me by force, I'll never stay," she warned. "I'll run every chance I get."
Again he shook his head. "I'll only find you again."
"Please," Meg asked, her voice filled with desperation. "Please don't do this."
Tristan pulled her closer against him. His free hand touched the curls that framed her face. "I won't hurt you, Gypsy. I swear it. Don't be afraid." He ground his arousal into the warm soft cavity of her hips. "I can't remember wanting another the way I want you."
Meg's eyes widened with surprise. She stared for a long moment into eyes almost as dark as her own. Again she felt the fluttering in her chest. What did it mean? Why was she suddenly so breathless? Why had her body grown so pliant and soft? Why did she feel so weak against his hard length? What dangerous spell had he cast?
Meg couldn't understand the turmoil that suddenly filled her. She'd never wanted a man before. She'd never thought to want one. So she didn't at first realize the need or understand this feeling he caused to flutter inside her belly.
Tristan's mouth took hers in a devastating kiss. Just like last night, Meg felt her sense of reason slide slowly out of her grasp. She grew softer, sweeter, hotter as he forced apart her lips. His tongue, eager for further tastings, caressed the sweet moistness just inside. Meg felt her moan of acquiescence as she listened to the promises of pleasure: "I have to have you. The torment won't end till I do."
Meg was gasping for her every breath. Her heart was pounding like it wanted to burst free of the walls of her chest, and yet her legs refused to bear her weight any longer. She slumped against him, her arms raised to his .neck, holding him in place, holding him tightly against her. A low moan of pleasure slipped from her throat. She'd never known a kiss could feel so good. That lips pressing against lips could bring almost debilitating rapture.
"God," he groaned. Feeling her soften against him, he ground his hips into hers. "I'll never forget how you danced tonight. I wanted to kill the man you were with." Tristan shuddered against the wave of emotion that rocked him. "I could kill you for flaunting yourself like that. If he would have touched you, I. . . .
His mouth was soft, wet, hot, and clean, and Meg couldn't get enough. She was melting into his heat as her mouth opened , wider, eager for more of this delicious sampling.
"Who were you dancing for tonight, Gypsy? Tell me. Tell me who."
"You," she gasped when he allowed her the chance to breathe again. "You," she moaned, hopelessly lost in the need he instilled, never linking but to reply in all honesty. "I danced for you."
"Oh God," Tristan gasped as he tried to bring his passions into some semblance of control. He had wanted more than a quick taking for their first time, but it was too late. He knew he wasn't going to stop. Not now. Perhaps not ever.
"Let me see you. I have to see you," he whispered as he lowered her blouse to expose her breasts to his view. His eyes closed against the beauty of creamy-smooth, golden globes of feminine softness. "Perfect. My God," his voice was hoarse and deeper than she'd ever heard, "you're so perfect."
His hands trembled as they cupped her fullness and pressed the firm flesh together. With a muffled sigh his face buried itself in her sweetness. He couldn't resist the temptation, groaning with pleasure as his mouth took the soft, giving flesh.
He heard her cry out and knew she was at least as eager as he for this taking.
His mouth. was on hers again. "I can't wait. You've made me crazy with wanting you."
Tristan was so caught up in the feel and taste of this woman that he never heard the footsteps behind him.
"So, you think to disgrace my Meggie, mister?"
Tristan spun around at the sound of Nicoli's angry voice. His body purposely protected her from her cousins' view. With trembling hands, Meg adjusted her blouse.
The two of them, Nicoli and Anton, stood glaring at Tristan as Meg slid from behind him. With flinty eyes Tristan watched her move away. He hadn't a doubt she knew this would happen. Damn this bitch, he thought. Damn her to hell for the ache that wouldn't abate, for the suffering he would know till the day came when she would be his alone. Why the hell had he stopped? Why hadn't he taken her away, mounted his horse, and ridden off. They would have been miles from here by now if he hadn't sought to ease her fears.
"I meant her no disrespect," Tristan said as he glared at the two hulking giants.
"And yet you touched her."
"I want her."
Nicoli cursed that the man should dare speak of his cousin as if she were a low woman to be used j to satisfy lust.
"You want to marry her, then?"
Tristan realized the correct answer here could mean his only chance for survival, but still he refused to give into their silent threats. No one was going to dictate to him whom he'd marry. His mouth twisted nastily. His gaze moved to Meg insolently, insultingly, as it traveled up the length of ler body. He smiled when he saw her shiver. Damn, he'd been willing to pay a hefty price for her favors, but no one was going to trick him into marrying her.
"Not marriage. But I want her. Name your price, Gypsy."
Nicoli cursed again. "This one is a dog. He talks like he bargains for a horse. What should we do to him, Meggie?"
For a long moment, Meg couldn't respond. She'd never known a time when she'd felt such self-loathing. How had she ever thought this horrible man appealing? But her anger didn't remain focused on herself for long. Almost instantly she found the real target. Her eyes flashed with fire in the cool moonlight as she sneered, "You said it yourself, Nicoli. This one is a dog. Only when you neuter a dog can he pose no threat."
All three men blinked in surprise at her casually spoken remark. Both her cousins knew this man had not taken her by force. She had no real reason to want to see his blood spilled. It was his words which caused her to react so.
Tristan cursed. Meg shrugged at the slur directed toward her and walked away. She didn't care if they killed him. No, that was wrong. She did care. She hoped they did kill him.
Nicoli grinned. A knife suddenly appeared in his hand. The long blade glittered in the silvery dim light. He was going to enjoy putting a scare into this man. He wouldn't kill him, or castrate him either, but this man was going to know the consequences of dishonoring a Gypsy woman.
The men moved toward him, but Nanna was suddenly there, pushing herself between the two hulking giants. "No," she said, the word effectively stopping all movement. She was the only one who knew that this man was special to Meggie, no matter how the girl denied it, no matter that in her anger she had ordered irreversible harm done. "You don't kill him. You teach him only to honor Gypsy girls."
Both knives were delivered into the old woman's outstretched hand. The two men grinned and turned as one to face Tristan, for there wasn't a Gypsy alive who didn't enjoy a good fight. Tristan knew he didn't stand a chance against these two men, but he sure as hell wasn't going to the only one in pain here. He knew how to give as good as he got, and the frustrated rage he felt toward Meg was sure to blacken at least one eye.
It did more than that.
Tristan would never know it, but he broke Nicoli's nose that night and blackened both of Anton's sparkling eyes. When it was over, the two men walked away from an unconscious Tristan. Even though they'd easily won, they felt begrudging admiration, for they'd fought a brave man.
It was almost dawn before he finally awoke. For long moment Tristan lay
perfectly still, knowing he was in serious pain and wondering if he had suffered any permanent damage. He could see the ground, feel it pressing hard against his bruised cheek, but couldn't understand why he was lying on it. He couldn't for a moment remember how he'd gotten there,
And then he did remember. Tristan rolled to his and gazed upon a beautifully clear sky. Slowly he raised one hand and gently ran it over his chest, belly, and legs. He didn't think anything broken. At least he hoped nothing was.
With a low groan of pain, he turned and gazed upon the empty field. The fact that they had left during the night brought no sense of despair. Tristan knew he would find her. It didn't matter how long it took. The day would come when that bloodthirsty witch would belong only to him.
He looked around for his horse, knowing before he started that the Gypsies wouldn't have left him any means of catching up to them. He sighed with disgust. It was a long walk back to London, bound to take most of the day. During that time he would imagine all the exquisite ways he was going to make his Gypsy suffer.
Chapter Five
Meg looked into the mirror and smoothed yet another loose tendril of black hair under the wide brim of her hat, only to sigh with frustration as she watched it spring free again. "Aren't you ready yet?"
"Almost," Meg said over her shoulder as her impatient sister stuck her head into the room.
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