“Who are you, Emerson?”
I looked up at him, perplexed. “You know who I am.”
Michael’s eyes scanned my body, his eyes narrowing. “Why are dressed like a whore? Did you want to draw attention to yourself? Are you a complete idiot?”
I blinked away tears. “The girls dressed me up. I thought you’d like it.”
He let go of my shoulders and looked at me like I was lower than a cockroach. “Bringing you here was a mistake. I’ve put everyone in greater danger. Go back and change into your own clothes. I have to speak with my family.”
“Michael, I’m sorry.”
“It’s too late, Emerson.”
His eyes were cold and cruel. He rubbed a hand over his head and walked away. I watched him go, my heart shattering into a thousand pieces.
Back at his caravan, I put the pretty golden dress on a hanger. I’d give it back to Audrey tomorrow. I couldn’t face anyone right now. I pulled on my yoga pants and a soft, pink shirt, scrubbed my face until it was raw, and sat down on Michael’s couch. I waited for the tears to come, but nothing happened. I felt numb.
I pulled my journal out of my backpack and began to write, pouring all of my pain out onto the pages. Hours later, my hand cramping and my eyes heavy with fatigue, I finally put my pen down.
Surely, my daddy had never imagined my journal would be filled with gypsies and monsters and bad boys who made me fall in love with them and then broke my heart. I picked up my cell phone to check the time. He would still be awake, but I couldn’t call him. He would hear the sadness in my voice and worry.
I sighed looking at Michael’s bed. He’d been cruel, and needed to be taught a lesson, but all I could think about was how much I wanted to climb into his warm bed and wake up wrapped in his strong arms once again.
I needed slapped in the face with a dose of reality. Michael had protected me, but as the Ceannfort, that was sort of his job. He’d kissed me, but that didn’t mean anything either. I curled up on his couch, and as my eyes closed a depressing realization hit me. I was simply a burden to him, just like so many things in his life. I thought I was punishing him by sleeping on the couch, but the sad truth was Michael might not even care if I was in his bed or not.
Chapter Sixteen
He was as bad off as a rubber-nosed woodpecker in a petrified forest.
~Grandma Sugar
I woke up to sunshine streaming in through the windows, and Michael hovering over me. I had a dull headache from the amount of whiskey I’d drunk, and a dull heartache from the way he’d treated me. A crick in my neck from sleeping on the couch was the final insult. I wasn’t in the mood for any nonsense today.
Evidently, neither was Michael. “Wake up. I’ll walk you to your apartment.” He was dressed and ready to go. I wondered if he’d slept at all.
I didn’t ask if there was time to take a shower. I wanted to get out of his caravan as soon as possible. I brushed my teeth, yanked my hair into a ponytail, pulled on a jacket, and grabbed my backpack.
“Would you like some breakfast?”
I shook my head. “Don’t bother.”
We walked in tense silence through the streets of York. My phone had died completely, so I had no idea of the time, but it seemed really early. My internal clock was thrown off after so many late nights with the gypsies.
When we reached my apartment, I turned to him, unable to meet his eyes. “Are you going to class?”
Michael shook his head. “There’s another council meeting tonight. I probably won’t go to school anymore.”
I reached for his arm. “That isn’t fair.”
He shook his arm out of my grasp. “Life isn’t fair. Do you think it’s been easy for me, hunting all night, and then trying to stay awake for chem labs? I’ve been doing it for more than three years, Emerson. I’m done. I’ll be here to collect you at four.”
He stomped away, and I slowly pulled myself up the stairs to my apartment. I had a few hours before my first class, and needed every minute of it. I was behind on all of my classwork, and wanted to immerse myself in my books and forget about Michael Nightingale for just a little while. Lucinda still slept, so I took a quick shower, made a pot of coffee, ate a bowl of cereal, and set to work on my laptop.
I finished my assignment in record time, and had to admit it was pretty darned good. The best thing about it was I had not thought about Michael Nightingale for nearly an hour.
“You came home.”
Lucinda stood in the doorway of her bedroom, rubbing her eyes. Only Lucinda could roll out of bed and look like a fashion model. She ran over and gave me a big hug.
“I’m so glad you’re back. It’s been dreadful around here without you. It sucks, in fact. It sucks big, hairy bollocks.”
I poured Lucinda a mug of coffee and stuck a piece of bread in the toaster for her. She kissed me on the cheek. “Thank you. This is splendid. We missed you so much.”
“I missed you, too.” I took a long sip of my coffee. My hangover had faded away, and I didn’t feel tired anymore, but my heart remained like block of ice lodged in my chest. “How is Antarctica?”
She groaned, resting her forehead on one hand. “We went to the cinema, and I forced him to sit way in the back. As soon as the lights went out, I decided to go for it, and I went bold.”
“Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes. I tried to touch his gentleman sausage, and it was a disaster. He nearly jumped out of his seat. He thought I was trying to get the popcorn.”
I bit my lip. “His gentleman sausage?”
Lucinda planted her face on the table. “It’s ridiculous. I can’t even call it by its proper name anymore. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
I patted her back. “Grandma Sugar calls it a ding-a-ling.”
Lucinda looked up at me. “My grandmother called it a toodle-pip. That’s awful, too.”
“Please don’t start calling it that,” I said with a laugh.
Lucinda sighed. “He goes back in less than two weeks, and I don’t want him to leave.”
The doorbell rang, and Poppy came in dressed entirely in black, her eyes red and swollen. She looked completely miserable.
“I met Nigel’s parents, and they hated me.”
I pulled her into a hug, and she cried softly on my shoulder. “Poor Pops.”
She shook her head. “I wore my most conservative clothes. I was quiet and respectful and good. And they bloody hated me at first sight. What did I do wrong?”
“Michael warned me they were snobs. What does Nigel say?”
This brought a fresh flood of tears. “That he loves me. That it doesn’t matter. But I can tell it does. I don’t want him to suffer.”
Lucinda leaned forward in her seat. “The only thing that will make him suffer is losing you. Now stop crying, put on an electric blue mini skirt and your craziest socks, and let him know how much you care about him.”
Poppy gave her a tremulous smile. “Thank you, Lucinda.” She turned to me. “How is Michael?”
I had promised myself I wouldn’t cry, but as soon as she looked at me with those big, blue eyes, tears began rolling down my cheeks. I wiped them away with the back of my hand, struggling to compose myself. I’d cried enough over Michael.
“He had some terrible news last night, and he pushed me away. I just wanted to comfort him, but he wouldn’t let me.”
“Well, that’s understandable.” Lucinda filled up everyone’s cup with fresh coffee. “If he opens up, it’ll make him vulnerable, and Michael Nightingale does not seem the sort of man who likes being vulnerable.”
“What was your first clue?” I glanced at my phone. “Shoot. I have to run, or I’ll be late for class.”
We agreed to meet, and commiserate, later. I rushed to my room, feeling better after I changed into my wool skirt and soft, cashmere sweater; more like myself again, and less like the strange girl in the gold dress. I had to use a lot of makeup to cover up my dark circles, but at least I was somewhat pres
entable.
My class on the works of William Shakespeare was my favorite, except for the fact Brooke attended, too, and always sat in the front row. Usually, I plonked myself down as far away from her as possible, but not today. I stomped right up to the front of the room and slid into the desk next to her.
Both blonde, southern, English Lit majors, we should have been friends, but she’d hated me on sight. I had to wonder if she thought she was superior simply because she came from North Carolina, and today I intended to find out.
“Excuse me,” she hissed. “That seat is taken.”
“I know. By me.”
She huffed and sat back in her seat. I glanced at my phone to check the time.”You have exactly four minutes to tell me what your problem with me is, or I will whip you good.”
Brooke’s delicate little bow-shaped mouth opened in surprise. “Now that is Kentucky blue grass trash talking right there.”
I leaned closer so she knew I meant business. “Keep it up and I’ll cancel your birth certificate, girl.”
I don’t know where my new attitude came from, but could only guess I had the gypsies to thank for it. They loved confrontations. They seemed to almost thrive on fighting and bickering. I normally wasn’t like that, but I had to admit today I kind of enjoyed it.
Our professor stumbled into the classroom, dropping a few papers on the way. He was adorable, with a shock of white hair, a tweed jacket, and a bow tie. I whispered in Brooke’s ear as he organized his materials for class.
“After class, either you tell me what your problem is, or you and I are going to mix. Got it?” She nodded, her lips a tight, white line.
I sat back and enjoyed the class, feeling better than I had in a while. We talked about Shakespearean sonnets, and listened to our professor read them in his deep, melodic voice. As soon as class ended, we turned in our work and walked outside. Brooke looked like she wanted to run away, but I will give her credit. She stood her ground.
“You don’t remember me, do you?”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “What the Sam Hill are you talking about?”
“Miss Southern Belle. Miss Peach Princess. Miss Southern Glamour. Miss Southern Beauty USA.” I had no idea what she was talking about, and she rolled her eyes. “You were at each and every one, you and your daddy. We were on the same circuit.”
“I’ve been to a lot of pageants. I’m sorry I don’t remember you, but is that really a reason to hate me?”
She scowled at me. “The only pageant my daddy ever made it to was Junior Miss America. My one chance to let him see me shine, and you stole it.”
“I did what?”
“I should have won talent. I always win talent. But the crowd cheered so loud after you did your kung fu side show I couldn’t hear the music and missed my cue. My song was ruined.”
My patience was quickly eroding. “How is any of this my fault?”
“I didn’t even place because of you. Do you have any idea how humiliating that was? My mama was a former Miss North Carolina, and went onto Miss America. I bet your mama can’t say that, now can she?”
“No, she can’t say anything. She killed herself when I was two.”
Brooke gasped, putting a hand over her bosom. “Oh, bless your heart. I had no idea. You should have used that in your intro speech. The judges would have eaten it up.”
I took a very controlled breath, and managed not to roll my eyes. Patience was not a virtue that came easily to me.
“The pageant was a million years ago. Can we just forget about it? Let’s go have a coffee and talk about how awful the other girls were.”
Brooke folded her arms across her chest and tapped her toe on the sidewalk. Obviously, she still wasn’t sure about me, but I may have made a little dent in her armor.
“Okay then. Fine. A lady might forgive, but she never forgets. Remember that, Emerson Jane.”
“Got it.” I resisted the urge to roll my eyes again, but it took a lot of effort.
We went to Mrs. Burke’s teashop, and I actually enjoyed talking with her, which was a pleasant surprise. I ordered a scone piled high with fresh cream and a little bowl of jam on the side. Brooke glared at me as she sipped straight black tea.
“If I hadn’t hated you because of Junior Miss, I would have hated you once I saw you eat. You’re one of those freaks who never has to diet, aren’t you?”
I licked a glob of cream off the corner of my mouth. “I think it’s because I’m so hyper. Grandma Sugar says I have ants in my pants.”
Brooke laughed, and then froze when Leo strolled in, looking all hot and sexy. His muscles positively rippled as he walked, and Brooke fanned her face.
“Oh, lordy be,” she said, grabbing my arm. “He looks even tastier than that cream you’re gorging on.”
I snorted. “I’ll introduce you.”
Leo’s eyes met mine, and I waved him over to our table. He seemed a little hesitant at first, but then walked slowly over to us. He wore a tight, black t-shirt, and his silky hair just barely caressed his shoulders. His skin was the color of caramel, and Brooke was right. He did look good enough to eat.
I introduced him to Brooke, and he sat down. A bit tense at first, eventually, he relaxed. We had a nice time chatting, and I had to admit, I flirted with him more than I should have. Part of it was a bit of residual competitiveness with Brooke, the other part because Michael had hurt me. Badly. It felt good to enjoy a few minutes of time with an attentive male who seemed to actually like my company.
Of course, Leo read too much into it. When I had to leave for class, he wanted to walk me there. I insisted he stay with Brooke, but he looked less than pleased. When Brooke got up to wash her hands, Leo pulled me aside.
“I want to spend time with you, not her.” His hand was on my arm, and he stood very close. I stepped away.
“I’m sorry, Leo. I didn’t mean to give you the wrong idea. I like you a lot.”
“I sense a ‘but’ in that sentence.”
I nodded. “A big ‘but.’ There’s sort of someone else.”
Leo’s reaction surprised me as his face darkened with fury. “Who is he, and more importantly, where is he?”
“Well, he’s certain not here, and it’s none of your concern anyway.” I reached for my coat, surprised that my hands shook.
Brooke came back from the restroom just in time. She looped her arm through Leo’s and smiled up at him. “Come on, Leo. Let’s sit down.”
He allowed her to lead him to the table, but I saw something in his expression I didn’t like. I almost hesitated leaving Brooke with him, even though I knew she was perfectly safe in a busy teashop. As I walked out onto the street, I felt his eyes on me, watching. I picked up my pace, wanting to get away from him. I didn’t know what was going on with Leo, but I knew it wasn’t over yet.
Chapter Seventeen
She was the spittin’ image of her mama.
~Grandma Sugar
I walked slowly home to my apartment, nervous about seeing Michael again. Part of me wanted to lock my door and refuse to go back with him, but I’d die if I stayed outside of the compound. A Moktar named Melo wanted to kill me, but only after raping me repeatedly for years and years. A fact I couldn’t ignore.
I tried to imagine what Michael’s life must have been like. Losing his mother when he was just a baby, he had no memories of her. Pushed into a leadership position in which everyone he knew depended on him for survival, but wanting to go to school. Knowing all of his choices and options had been taken from him.
I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, almost tripping an old lady walking behind me. Michael was going to marry a Traveller girl, give her lots of Traveller babies, and continue fighting Moktar until the day he died, which would probably be fairly soon. Maybe the way he acted last night had nothing to do with me personally. Maybe I was just the icing on the cake. The last straw. His last opportunity to do something for himself. His final act of rebellion.
It made my heart break f
or him. I’d go back to Kentucky and resume my normal life, but Michael had no chance of ever following his dreams or doing what he really wanted.
He leaned heavily against the brick wall of my building, already there and waiting for me, when I arrived. People passing on the sidewalk, scared of him, gave him a wide berth, but he no longer frightened me. He turned and his gaze met mine, nothing but pain and a sense of hopeless desperation in his blue eyes. He’d seen too much, and suffered too much, for someone so young.
I didn’t say anything. I just walked up to him and wrapped my arms around his waist, my face in his chest. He hesitated only for a second before putting his arms around me.
“I expected an argument.” His voice was rough and raw. “Aren’t you angry with me?”
I looked up at his beautiful face. I barely noticed the scars, tattoos, and piercings anymore.
“I was hurt, not angry. I made it about me, but it should have been about you. I’m sorry.”
Michael’s jaw clenched as he tried to control his emotions. “I was out of line. I should be the one apologizing.”
I lifted myself up on my tiptoes and gave him a soft kiss. “It’s over. No more apologies, okay?”
He slipped his hand into mine. “Do you need anything?” He looked up at my apartment.
“I have everything I need,” I said, resting my cheek against his shoulder.
He swallowed hard and nodded. “Let’s be off then.”
The peace between us was a beautiful thing, but we needed to talk. “I can’t believe you live like this, Michael. Going to school during the day and staying up all night. I’ve only done it for a few days, and I’m exhausted.”
Michael looked embarrassed. “I exaggerated. We don’t work every night. We do have some time off.”
“But it’s a very tough schedule, and yet still you managed to haul your very attractive butt to Mrs. Burke’s every morning.” I was desperate to see him smile, and he rewarded me with a sexy grin.
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