Gypsy Moon

by Becky Lee Weyrich

  “You are not the best I’ve ever seen.” She shrugged. “But you’ll do.”

  “Well, thank God for that!” he answered in a mocking tone. “Now you!”

  Phaedra feigned modesty, pulling the silver top back up and turning away. “No! Never!”

  “Like hell, woman!” He lunged at her, catching her laces in his fingers. They pulled tight about her waist and she gasped for breath.

  “Let me go!”

  “When I’m damn good and ready!”

  He shoved her down on the bed, but she slipped away from him. A moment later, the naked man and near-naked woman were tumbling about on the bedroom floor in a lusty love-fight.

  Charlotte and Mateo were once more astride their mounts, galloping around the ring. Mateo’s Black Devil caught up with Velacore. He flashed Charlotte a blinding white smile and reached out to squeeze her hand.

  “You are superb, my darling!”

  “You’d better wait until we finish this final maneuver before you start handing out the praise, my love.”

  He blew her a kiss. “Not to worry, my sunuki ball.”

  Their moves perfectly in tune, they stood on their horses’ backs, with no reins this time to steady them. Charlotte dared take only shallow breaths. The Black Devil moved in so close to her horse that their flanks were almost touching. Like lightning, Mateo switched horses, leaping onto Velacore’s back behind Charlotte. He slipped his arm about her waist to steady them both, and she leaned into him, savoring the feel of his hard body.

  The crowd grew silent, waiting to see what would happen. When Mateo slid to a sitting position, a general gasp went up. They thought he had slipped. But no! This was all part of the act.

  A moment later, he leaned forward. Ever so carefully, Charlotte straddled his shoulders. He straightened. The horse picked up speed. Charlotte waved with both hands as she sat high above the prancing horse. The audience went wild.

  “Well, George, that must be it,” Annabelle said. “I’m going to find Lance. He’s been gone a dreadfully long time.”

  “As you wish, my dear, but you really shouldn’t miss any of this.”

  Annabelle was already out of her seat, heading toward their quarters. She knew Lance wouldn’t be there, but she wanted to wash her face and hands after all the dust those horses had kicked up.

  The door was not locked, but that wasn’t unusual: they seldom felt the need of such security measures within the safe confines of the fort. She went into the orderly living room. No, Lance wasn’t here. When he came in, he invariably dropped his riding crop or his hat on the sofa, in spite of all her complaints about his untidy habits.

  Spotting the sherry decanter on the sideboard, she decided she might benefit from a bit of fortification. The dust was clogging her throat so she could hardly speak or swallow. And heaven only knew what kind of a row she and Lance would have when he did turn up… if he turned up! Yes, a drop of sherry would help in either case.

  She walked to the front window and looked out, shielding her eyes against the blinding glare from the Golden One’s costume. What she saw almost took her breath away. The handsome Gypsy prince was still standing on his horse’s back with the woman astride his shoulders. As the great stallion continued a steady gallop around the ring, the blonde Gypsy maneuvered upward until she was standing on Prince Mateo’s shoulders. Annabelle held her breath, sure that the woman would never be able to maintain her balance. But she did it! Soon the two of them stood erect, towering over the people in the bleachers. It was a spectacular trick indeed. Annabelle felt she should have stayed to see it at closer range.

  Once more the applause was like thunder. One hand occupied holding her sherry glass, she did not clap for the pair, but she did smile broadly and nod her approval. Then she took a seat, exhausted from the excitement of watching the daring performers. For the moment, all thoughts of her errant husband were forgotten.

  While his wife sat sipping sherry in a most civilized manner in the outer room, Lance Delacorte was in a most uncivilized predicament on the floor of their bedroom.

  Somehow—he wasn’t sure how it happened—the Gypsy woman had gotten hold of his rope and tied him up like a calf at branding time. He lay flat on his back, unable to move, as the half-clothed beauty taunted him beyond endurance. He had often had fantasies about being in just such an exciting position, but actually living it was something else altogether.

  At the same instant that Annabelle had unstoppered the sherry decanter, Phaedra had tired of riding her hobbled mount. Now she was licking him all over in imitation of Boski’s attentions to her in the ring. Lance was writhing and almost choking to keep from screaming.

  “Phaedra… Phaedra, don’t do that… please. Let me loose. Come on, now. I’ve had enough of this. What if someone comes in?”

  She raised her head from his quivering belly and grinned at him. “Then I’ll go out the window and you’ll have one helluva time explaining yourself, my pretty horse soldier.”

  “Oh, God!” He rolled his eyes and tried to think of an appropriate prayer to save him. He almost made a promise never to look at another woman again but decided that was too drastic. “You wouldn’t leave me like this?”

  “Well, I am certainly not going to stay here and get caught!”

  “Phaedra, please!” he moaned. “Untie me!”

  Annabelle cocked an ear. She thought she heard sounds from the bedroom, but she couldn’t be sure: there was so much cheering coming from outside. She tipped her glass to her lips once more, but it was empty.

  “Maybe just a spot more,” she murmured.

  There was that noise again from the bedroom—a moaning sound. She started to get up, but the sherry had made her drowsy and her limbs felt heavy. She couldn’t force herself to move.

  The moan she’d heard had come when Phaedra finally eased herself down upon her victim. She still hadn’t untied him, but at least she had tired of her torture and was ready to satisfy him.

  And by damn, the woman knows her business! Lance thought happily, feeling his release fast approaching. Yes, sir, this one was every bit as good a rider as that little blonde out there in the ring. And a helluva lot more willing!

  He was on the brink now… he felt himself coming. His eyes shot open and he was staring right into her big, dark nipples. He tried to reach one with his lips, but he was just short of it. He stuck out his tongue and lapped at it. At his unexpected licking, Phaedra gave a back-wrenching jerk with her body and vocalized her pleasure, now very near her own ecstasy. Throwing caution to the wind, they rode it out together.

  “Horses’ hooves in the bedroom?” Annabelle turned in her chair and squinted at the door as if to see what was making the loud thumping noise.

  “Lance, is that you in there?”

  They both froze, but only for a moment. True to her word, Phaedra dismounted, grabbed up the rest of her costume, blew him a quick kiss, and climbed out the window, leaving Lance to his uncertain fate.

  He was struggling against his bonds and had wriggled all but his lower torso out of sight when Annabelle came in.

  “Oh, my Lord!” she screamed, seeing his bound naked ankles and hairy legs sticking out from under her bed. Immediately she turned and fled the house, shouting hysterically, “Murder! Murder! Someone’s killed my husband!”

  Colonel Custer ran to her. He caught the sobbing, near fainting woman in his arms. “What’s happened, Annabelle?”

  “There’s a body in my bedroom. I think it’s Lance,” she cried.

  “Close the gates!” the colonel yelled to one of the captains. “Don’t let anyone else leave the post.”

  Charlotte and Mateo didn’t hear the excited shouts coming from the parade ground. They were back in the stable, locked tightly in an embrace of joy and love. The show had gone off without the slightest mistake. Now they were free!

  “Let’s change quickly and be on our way.” Mateo’s words had the ring of a boy setting out on
a great adventure.

  “Yes, before anyone can stop us,” Charlotte agreed.

  He frowned slightly. “Who would try to stop us, love?”

  She tried to shrug off his question and the nagging feeling that had been twisting her stomach since she’d first spotted Winston Krantz.

  “Oh, no one. I’m just anxious to be away with you… alone together.”

  The very next instant, it seemed as if Charlotte’s thoughts had conjured up her adversary. Major Winston Krantz, his usually serious demeanor especially solemn, came walking into the stable just in time to interrupt a kiss. He gave Charlotte a searching look but spoke to Mateo.

  “I’m sorry, but we’ll have to detain you on the post for a time.”

  Mateo put on his “laugh, Gypsy, laugh” face for the major. “Why should you want to do a thing like that? We performed for you. Now we go back to camp to celebrate and then to sleep.”

  Again the major’s pale eyes were on Charlotte, traveling the length of her golden tights but shooting up to her face when he saw that she was watching him. This was the moment she had dreaded. He was about to tell Mateo who he was and lay claim to her. But when his words came, they couldn’t have shocked her more.

  “There’s been a murder. We’re holding everyone.”

  “A murder?” they both cried in unison.

  He nodded and grimaced. “Messy business. Seems the corpse was found bound and naked. Oh, excuse me, ma’am.” He flushed deeply.

  Meanwhile, the “corpse” was truly in danger of losing his life. If he couldn’t come up with a satisfactory explanation for the embarrassing circumstances under which his wife had found him, he’d have to tell them all the truth. And that was the last thing Lance Delacorte wanted to do.

  “Darling, darling! Are you all right?” Annabelle, made mellow by the sherry and finding her husband still alive, was sobbing all over him.

  “What happened here, Lieutenant?” Custer demanded.

  Lance clutched the army blanket covering his nakedness and held his head with his other hand, pretending he’d been hit.

  “I’m not really sure, Colonel. I remember coming back here to find my pipe.”

  “But Lance dear, you haven’t smoked that pipe in over a year.”

  “Well, I wanted it. I needed a smoke.” He glared at his wife, then looked at the colonel again. “I came into the bedroom and they… they jumped me. Yes, that’s what happened. It must have been some of the Gypsies. I probably walked in on them while they were looting the place.”

  “See, I told you, George!” Annabelle said vehemently. “They are no good! You shouldn’t have let them come here!”

  “Have you noticed anything missing, Annabelle?” Custer asked.

  She glanced about. No, everything seemed to be in place. Even Lance’s money clip, which contained a wad of bills, was lying on the bureau in plain view. Surely they would have taken that. She shook her head, looking slightly bewildered.

  “You seem to have a difficult time lately keeping track of your uniform. Lieutenant Delacorte,” Custer said sarcastically. “Did these brigands strip you as well?”

  Lance nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes, they must have.”

  “You mean you don’t remember?” Custer demanded.

  “Well, everything’s very hazy in my mind after they hit me, sir.”

  “How many?”

  “I’m not sure. They must have been hiding behind the door when I came in. I never saw them.”

  Maybe Delacorte hadn’t seen them, but George Custer had spotted telltale bits of evidence the moment he’d come into the room. The lieutenant had strange red marks all over his neck and chest—almost like teeth marks. Then there had been the triangular scrap of silver material caught on the windowsill. And the knots in the rope that bound Delacorte had been of peculiar Gypsy fashion, but too loose for a man to have tied them. Custer’s guess was that a Gypsy woman had been with Lance Delacorte… and there was only one in the troupe dressed in silver.

  “Well, as long as nothing is missing and there’s no real harm done, I suppose we can just let it pass,” Custer said.

  “Colonel!” shrieked Annabelle Delacorte. “They nearly killed my husband and you aren’t going to do anything about it?”

  He was furious at being caught in such a position by Delacorte’s feeble lies. It was one thing for the lieutenant to cheat on his wife, quite another to ensnare his commanding officer in his treachery. Custer was fed up! It wasn’t the Gypsies who were causing him all this trouble: it was his own people!

  Just then, Winston Krantz came bustling through the door. “I’ve detained the rest of them, Colonel.” His eyes went wild, his lower jaw drooped. “Delacorte! You’re alive!”

  “And well!” Custer added. “Go and tell the others they can leave now, Krantz. There’s no need to hold anyone.”

  Winston and Annabelle both turned shocked gazes on Custer.

  “Sir, remember what I told you about the woman? Well, I’m sure of it now. I’ve seen her close up. She is Charlotte Buckland, the young lady I intended to marry. We can’t just allow them take her away again against her will,” Winston protested.

  “And what about your promise to me, Colonel?” Annabelle shrilled. “You said you’d do something about this situation.”

  Custer mopped his brow, wishing that they would all leave him alone. He wanted peace and quiet on the post, no more Gypsies, a long ride with Libbie at his side, and maybe a few redskins to take his frustrations out on.

  “How many are you detaining, Major?”

  “I have five of them, not counting Charlotte Buckland. Prince Mateo, three of his horse handlers, and the woman who performed with the bear.”

  Lance paled and drew deeper into the folds of his blanket.

  “Very well,” Custer replied with a sigh. “Bring them all to my quarters immediately.”

  Mateo’s horse handlers were released after only a few minutes’ interrogation. They were instructed to leave the stallions but return immediately to their camp.

  Colonel Custer, who found this whole matter boring, senseless, and a damned nuisance besides, perked up noticeably when Phaedra sauntered into his office. There was no denying that she was a real beauty. Looking into those smoldering black eyes and seeing those pouty lips and the sultry way she carried herself, he could almost forgive Lance Delacorte for this stupid debacle. Goddamn if she wasn’t some piece of female!

  “Name?” he asked tonelessly.

  She hiked one shapely thigh onto the edge of his desk and leaned close to his face. “Phaedra,” she said in such a manner that her breath fanned the long yellow hair framing his face.

  Custer sat back in his chair, away from her, but she could tell by the gleam in his eyes and the way they scrutinized her that he was not unaffected by her charms.

  “Well, Phaedra, it seems you’ve stirred up quite a hornets’ nest here on post.”

  “I?” she said with exaggerated innocence.

  Custer pulled the silver scrap from his pocket and flipped it across the desk to her. “Looks to me like this just about fits that piece torn out of your bodice.”

  “Oh, thank you, Colonel!” she enthused. “Wherever did you find this? Boski tore my gown after our performance today. I’ve been searching everywhere for this missing piece. Silver cloth is so dear! You have no idea. Queen Zolande would have been very angry with me if I’d come home with my costume ruined. But now I can mend it. You are a dear, dear man!”

  Custer uttered a disgusted sigh. “Young lady! Please don’t say any more. I’ve had my fill of lies today. I know what you and Lance Delacorte were up to. This scrap came from the windowsill of his bedroom. I’m not blaming you. Certainly, no man strong of body and right in his mind could refuse your charms.”

  Phaedra leaned close, smiling, and caressed the colonel’s flowing hair. “How sweet!”

  “Never mind that!” He brushed her hand away. “But dammit,
woman! To tie him up naked and leave him that way for his wife to find? Have you no sense of decency?”

  Phaedra’s dark brows shot up dramatically and she leaned close again, shrugging and smiling. “He enjoyed it, Colonel!”

  Custer harrumphed in his embarrassment. “Be that as it may, it isn’t a decent sport for a cavalry officer to be engaged in.”

  “You have a better idea, yellow-haired one?” She leaned so far over that her breasts nearly popped from their silver confinement.

  Custer stood abruptly. “I think that’s quite enough, young lady! I want you out of my office and off this post in five minutes! Otherwise, I won’t be responsible for what happens to you with all these woman-hungry soldiers about!”

  “Ooh! Sounds nice!”

  “Out! Out, do you hear me?”

  Phaedra slunk through the door, tossing the colonel a kiss over her shoulder as she left.

  Custer stared after her, making strange rumbling noises in his throat, then adjusted his uniform as he poured himself a stiff drink. He tossed it off quickly and took a deep breath.

  “Thank God that’s over with!”

  He was still trying to regain his composure when Mateo and Charlotte came in. They were still splendidly in costume.

  Custer resumed his seat and motioned them to the sofa. “Sit down, won’t you? Let’s get this over with in a hurry.”

  “That sounds like a good idea, Colonel,” Mateo agreed.

  “Miss Buckland!”

  Charlotte sat forward and answered, “Yes, sir?”

  The colonel slumped in his chair. He had hoped against hope that his trick would fail, but…

  “I understand that you came here from Kentucky.”

  Charlotte knew Mateo was staring at her, but she dared not meet his gaze.

  “Yes, I did.”

  “And just how is it that you happen to be performing with a Gypsy circus?”

  Charlotte stammered uncomfortably, trying to frame a suitable answer.