by Sarah Price
“I was waiting,” she admitted sleepily.
Leaning on his one hand, he ran his other hand over her flat, soft stomach. Exploring her thighs, Nicolae stroked her muscles before seeking the center of her passion. His elbow cracked as he shifted his weight, leaning forward to kiss her shoulder, her breast, her stomach. With his tongue, he traced a wavy line down to his fingers, kissing her with such fervor that she pulled at his hair, wriggling in newfound ecstasy. His own passion growing, Nicolae kissed her inner thighs, lifting his weight above her as he moved forward. His hips rested on hers, his hands by her head. Slowly, and with loving care, he made love to her until she cried his name out softly. Exhausted and spent, Nicolae rested his head on her chest, shutting his eyes as Sahara ran her fingers through his hair. He sighed once, obviously content as he drifted to sleep. Sahara smiled sleepily to herself as she listened to Nicolae's gentle breathing. His one hand rested lightly on her arm and his other was entangled in her hair. His breathing softened until Sahara was sure he was asleep and would not awakened. Softly, she kissed the top of his head before shutting her eyes and falling into a much needed and desired glorious sleep.
As the season changed, the days grew shorter and the night grew longer. More time was spent by the fires as the air chilled and the stars sparkled in the sky. The man insisted that Amaya sit near him for meals. His deceased wife’s family took care of the children, including the young baby. Amaya recognized her change of status and, for the moment, relished it. She had spent too long shunned by her father’s people and too long on the fringe of these new people. If having the seat of honor meant that she had regained some respect, she was willing to sit next to the man.
“Rom Baro,” someone said from behind.
He looked over his shoulder at the group of young men and smiled. “What is it that you want tonight?”
“Dance! Dance with Amaya!” The rest of the group began to cheer.
He laughed and started to shake his head. But Amaya felt alive and stood. When he saw her before him and heard the group cheering even louder, he rose to his feet. The music changed to a fiery song, full of life and energy. He watched as she began to dance, her arms over her head, beckoning to him to join her. And so he did. He danced with her, his eyes locked onto hers. He danced as he had not danced in years. The kumpania cheered and encouraged them, the energy around the fire full of daring enticement and unspoken desire. The night melted around them, the people seemed to disappear. It was just the Rom Baro and Amaya, dancing for each other. The Rom Baro danced, reaching for Amaya at one point and, as the music crashed to a halt, he pulled her close. He stared down into her face and, in that moment of silence, he saw the future and he saw Amaya. They were one. And for the first time in years, he, too, felt alive.
Chapter Twelve
“She is promised to someone else, S'hara! I will hear no more of this!”
Nicolae started to turn away from her but Sahara grabbed his arm. He spun around on his heel, shoving her away from him. Quickly, Sahara steadied herself and sprung back at him. “Please, Nicolae! You must listen to me!” Nicolae stopped fighting and stood before her, his hands on his hips. Something twisted in his face, making Sahara cringe as she recognize the anger that raged inside him. Frightened, she stepped back, leaning against their tent's post.
Nicolae took a deep breath, his face red. “I must do what is right! What is tradition, S'hara!” He pointed his finger at her. “And you must learn your place!” He turned to walk away from her, the conversation over.
“Nicolae, please!” she cried out, reaching for his arm. Her anger was suddenly replaced with tears. In the past month, he had seen her change. Each day, she had tried to adapt to the gypsy life. She helped the women cook the meals. Her nimble fingers sewed him new shirts and her new dresses, all black against his wishes. The other gypsies opened up to her, trusting her with their friendship. The younger children idolized her rebellious ways. The single men desired her while the unmarried girls envied her.
“S'hara.” He knelt before her, gathering her limp, weeping body into his arms. “I am sorry, my bori.”
Sahara wrapped her arms around his neck, crying softly on his shoulder. She hated herself for forgiving him so easily once again. Nicolae tried to soothe her pain as he stroked her hair, rocking her back and forth as he held her. Her tears wet his neck. Several minutes later, Sahara stopped crying. Her tear stricken face peered desperately into his. “I've tried so hard to please you,” she whispered.
He kissed her forehead before he wiped away her tears. “I say things when I am angry, S'hara. By now, you should know that.”
Sahara sniffled. She rested her head against his shoulder. No, she thought, by now I should know the breaking point of your temper. She breathed wearily, feeling comforted by his strong arms holding her. “You hurt me so.”
He laughed softly, still rocking her. “That is because I love you, S'hara.”
Sahara was well aware that Nicolae loved her. She was constantly reminded of it through his words and actions. She felt his love every day, every night. His possessiveness infuriated her. His passion aroused her. Between the two, she wasn't sure if she hated him or loved him. “Then is it so hard for you to see that Finny and Locke belong together? They love each other so.”
Nicolae sighed. “You want me to go against our ways? Just because Locke loves Finny? And what of the girl Locke is to marry? When we meet up with her vista, what am I to tell her? Her intended wed another?” Her silence answered him. Nicolae shut his eyes, shaking his head from side to side as he held his distraught wife in his arms. “You have my heart in your claws, S'hara. I will speak to the Rom Baro.”
At first, Sahara did not respond. Every day, Sahara had noticed more and more how Finny gazed at Locke whenever he was near. How Locke showed off whenever Finny was around. Sahara managed to discover that, indeed, Locke had no desire to wed his intended. His affections belonged to someone else. When Sahara confronted Finny, the girl broke down. She hated Greggor and his violent nature. Sahara soothed the hysterical girl, promising to speak to Nicolae about rearranging the marriages. Finny had protested at first, knowing arranged marriages were never broken. But Sahara was determined.
Nicolae held her face between his two hands. Her tanned skin warmed his touch. “You are a lucky romni, S'hara. If you only knew how much.”
Sahara threw herself into his arms, clinging to him with all her strength. “Nicolae, I do know how lucky I am!”
The sunset glowed orange as Nicolae held the tent flap back for Sahara. She ducked under his arm, waiting for him on the other side. She smoothed her black skirt down, brushing the dust off. Nicolae motioned for her to follow. Obediently, she walked a pace behind him as Nicolae headed for the fires. Already the town people mingled in the gypsy crowds. The town men shared rakiya they had bought from the gypsies as their wives bargained with the gypsy women over silk cloths. Sahara smiled encouragingly to Finny as they passed the anxious young girl. Finny stood behind a black cauldron, stirring dinner for the gypsies.
“Finny!” The masculine voice that bellowed behind the wagon sent a chill down Sahara's spine. She stopped walking and watched as Greggor headed toward his future wife. “Have you finished? I'm hungry as a bear.”
“S'hara, are you coming?” Nicolae touched her arm. But she didn't move. He followed her gaze in time to see Greggor shove Finny away from the cauldron. The girl fell in the dirt, her skirt flipping over her knees. Quickly, she pulled it down. Greggor leaned over, tasting the papin. His face scrunched into a ball as he spat it out. “This is overcooked!” He turned around, reaching over to grab Finny by the front of her dress. He pulled her to her feet, dragging her to the cauldron. “Taste that! Tell me if you think it is fit for pigs!”
Nicolae turned away from the scene, his hold on Sahara's arm firm. Quietly, he walked, looking for his father over the heads of the people. When they had walked out of Greggor's earshot, Nicolae nodde
d his head slowly. “Perhaps Greggor is not a suitable husband for Finny or any woman.”
Most of the town people huddled around the fires, watching the dancing with a bottle of rakiya in their hand as the gypsy children snuck around them, occasionally picking an unsuspecting pocket. Sahara had learned to close her eyes to the mischievous children long ago. The gypsies usually stole for survival rather than play. Although she did not agree with cheating the gadjo through unfair trades or false fortunes, she knew it was the gadjos choice to partake in such activities. Sahara felt Nicolae lightly touch her shoulder, breaking her thoughts. When she looked up at him, he said, “The Rom Baro is over there.” He nodded his head in the direction they were walking.
Sahara tried to make out the Rom Baro from the several men standing near a horse. The chestnut mare danced brightly, lifting her head high as she neighed, trying to rear up and break free. The gypsy man holding the mare's bridle elbowed her in the neck. “Nicolae? Is your father selling that horse?” Sahara had never witnessed a horse trade. Usually the gypsies took their older horses into a nearby town and returned with young, spirited horses. Never had she thought to question the methods used in the trade.
“See the stallion tied to the tree? The Rom Baro wants to trade the mare for the stallion.”
A glimmer of the firelight shone on the mare's head, momentarily exposing the thin streak of white down her nose. Gasping, Sahara grabbed Nicolae's arm. “Nicolae! That horse is an old nag!”
Nicolae silenced her by squeezing her arm. They approached the group, listening as the Rom Baro finished bargaining. Sahara and Nicolae stood on the outside of the circle, watching as the Rom Baro nodded for the gypsy holding the mare to relinquish the reigns to the gadjo, a local farmer. “You will not be disappointed. A mare can bring you colts, something we have no time for on the road. As for your stallion, he seems healthy enough.” The Rom Baro casually motioned for Nicolae to join the men. “He will check the stallion before I give you the money.”
The stallion, a perfectly healthy brown horse with a white foreleg, stood patiently as Nicolae ran his hands over the horse's back and sides. Sahara frowned, watching him curiously. Nicolae pried the horse's mouth open, inspecting his teeth. Next, Nicolae ran his hands down the horse's legs before checking his hooves. Finished with his inspection, Nicolae returned to the group, speaking some strange words. Sahara lifted her head, listening carefully. But she could understand nothing. The Rom Baro nodded his head once, obviously understanding what Sahara had not. He turned back to the farmer. “I am sorry, my friend. I will not accept your stallion.” The Rom Baro chirped through his teeth and the other gypsy grabbed the mare's reins, snatching her away from the gadjo's grasp. The Rom Baro started to walk away but the farmer laid his hand on the gypsy's shoulder. Impatiently, the Rom Baro turned around. “What is it now?”
“What's wrong with my horse?”
The Rom Baro laughed, sending chills down Sahara's spine. She recognized that laugh from the night at her father's saloon. It was his cheating laugh. “Any man with eyes and some sense about horses can see your stallion has laminitis.”
The farmer made a face of disbelief. “That stallion's fine! There ain't one thing wrong with it.” But his expression said otherwise. Worried, he ran his fingers through his dirty hair and glanced the stallion over.
The Rom Baro started to walk away again. “Then you keep it. Let it founder on your farm rather than my trail while pulling a wagon.”
“Now wait a minute.” The farmer stepped in front of the Rom Baro, eager to rid himself of the sickly stallion. A sick horse couldn't plow fields or pull wagons. Especially one destined to die. “Maybe we can come to some sort of agreement.”
“Agreement?” The Rom Baro crossed his arms over his chest. “I will listen to you, yes.”
“Now...” The farmer rubbed his stubbly double chin, glancing at his sick horse again. “You say my stallion's ill, right?” He looked back at the shriveled old gypsy before him. Hooking his fingers under his armpits, the farmer tried to sound authoritative. “I know enough about horses to say he ain't. But that mare you got looks mighty fine. And I need a brood mare more than I need a stallion. We was gonna trade the stallion for the mare plus twenty dollars cash, right? Well, forget the cash and call it even.”
An angry frown crossed the Rom Baro's face as he shook his head once. “We can call it off, yes. Not even.” He tried to walk away again.
The gadjo refused to let the gypsy pass him. He took a firm hold on the Rom Baro's arm. Desperately, the farmer mumbled in a low voice, “I need that mare. Ain't much chance for me to find one again for a while after you all leave. What kind of bargain would you accept?”
The Rom Baro looked at the stallion then turned to Nicolae. They exchanged some more unintelligible words. Finally, Nicolae nodded to the Rom Baro. The Rom Baro smiled and turned back to the farmer. “I am a fair man. I do not need that mare any more than I need a dying horse. But you are in a situation, yes. Without the mare, you cannot breed. With your stallion, you will soon be out a horse but it will take us to the next town. I will help you, yes.”
The farmer eyed Nicolae suspiciously. “How do I know he knows his horses?”
The Rom Baro's smile faded. A muscle in his cheek twitched as he narrowed his eyes. “You dare to insult me?”
Sahara realized what was happening. The stallion was no sicker than the mare was young and healthy. They were conning the ignorant gadjo. Quickly, she jumped forward, stepping in the middle of the group. Although she did not approve of cheating such ignorant farmers, she felt a growing loyalty to Nicolae and his people. Besides, she thought, the mare could certainly bare once or twice more in her life. “Sir, perhaps I can help you.”
The farmer, previously unaware of Sahara's presence, stared at her as she led him away from the stunned gypsies. The gadjo scratched his chin again, eyeing Sahara just as suspiciously as he eyed Nicolae. Although her attire screamed gypsy, the pureness of her face told him otherwise. She didn't look as tired and worn out as the other gypsy women her age. Tilting his head, the farmer replied, “You one of them?”
Sahara glared over her shoulder at Nicolae. “God no!”
The gadjo raised a distrustful eyebrow at the beautiful girl, not sure whether to believe her or not. “Dressed like `em.”
“They stole me from my ailing mum.”
The farmer shifted his weight uneasily. She could've passed as a gypsy with the dark hair and skin. But her story was believable. He had often heard tales of gypsies kidnapping young girls. “Why didn't you go back?”
Sahara shrugged her shoulders, trying to act indifferent. “To what? Mum's dead by now. Filthy gypsies spoiled me. No decent man would marry me.” Quickly she changed the subject. “That horse you got there.” She pointed at the stallion. “Seen it before. Strikes the young ones. Looks healthy and all. But he's got it alright. Look how quiet he is. Standing there so still, his legs stiff and forward. Founder for certain.” Sahara turned around, nodding toward the mare the gypsy still held. “Now that horse...`twas my own but they don't treat it right. Good mare, ready to bare. Give the gypsy a little money and I'm sure he'll take it for your sick stallion.”
The farmer thought for a minute then gruffly pushed Sahara aside, walking back to the gypsies. “Old man, give you twenty for the mare.”
“Twenty?” The Rom Baro chuckled to himself, nudging Nicolae who glared at the gadjo. His rough treatment of Sahara had not gone unnoticed. The Rom Baro looked at the amused faces staring at him, still snickering. “Did you hear that? Twenty dollars for the mare.”
The farmer grinded his teeth, eager to be rid of the stallion and take the mare. “Twenty-five!”
The Rom Baro took a deep breath and held his hands out before him. “What can I do? Thirty and I will trouble myself to take the stallion off your hands.”
The farmer lifted his chin victoriously. “That's a deal!”
As the two men settled up the bargain, Nicolae dragge
d Sahara away from the men. She stumbled over a rock, knocking into him. Pausing only to steady her, Nicolae tightened his hold on her arm as they walked until they stood by a wagon, far away from the gadjo. Nicolae loosened his grip, resting his hand above her head on the side of the wagon. His eyes met hers in the dying light the sunset cast. Shaking his head, Nicolae smiled, mostly to himself as he wondered about the feisty woman he had married. He wasn't sure whether to scold her for so foolhardily jumping into the men's business or admire her ingenuity. “You are remarkable, S'hara.”
She bit the inside of her lip, staring into his handsome face. The way his dark eyes laughed at her stirred something inside. She began to feel warm all over. In the distance, someone laughed over the flamboyant gypsy music. She could tell by the laugh it was a drunk gadjo. “I don't approve of your methods, Nicolae. But I don't like these people.” She waved her hand at the people around the fires.
Nicolae's smile grew as he teased her. “Your people, yes?”
“No!” She stamped her foot. “They never were my people! Just my captors.”
“And I?” Lazily, he reached out to stroke her long, black hair that hung over her shoulders. He felt that familiar longing grow in his groin. Never had a woman aroused him as much as Sahara did. “What am I to you?”
Sahara sensed his amorousness. Leaning her hands on his chest, Sahara stood on her toes, whispering in his ear, “My lover.”
Nicolae trailed his lips across her throat. Her skin tasted sweet like honeysuckle in spring. Placing his one hand on the back of her neck, he met her lips with his. Hungrily, his tongue probed into her mouth. She received his passion as eagerly as it was given. Pressing her body against his, she felt the strength of his muscles. When he pulled away, Sahara felt a rush of disappointment. Confused, she stared into his face, wondering why he had pushed her away. Nicolae held her hand, raising it to his lips. Softly, he kissed her open palm. “I will meet you, S'hara, in our tent. But first, I must speak with someone, yes?”