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  Once the letters had been written and posted, he returned to his room and collapsed onto his lumpy cot. He closed his eyes and lost himself in memories of the islands—the taste of Jamaican coffee fresh from the Blue Mountains on his tongue. The morning breeze as he broke his fast on the veranda of his host’s plantation home. It was exquisite. Everything about Jamaica was, and he found his head filled with images of Bianca there, holding his hand as they watched the sunset on the beach. Running barefoot along the shore.

  Swimming in the ocean…nude.

  Tom sat upright on his bed, as if jolted from a beautiful dream, and shook his head to rid it of his erotic thoughts.

  He barely knew the girl, and he was only here to ensure her safety. Besides, like he’d said before, Jamaica probably wasn’t in his future—at least not the near future. No reason to torture himself with painful memories or dreams of what could be. He was stuck here, in England, until God knew when. He’d just have to get used to it.

  ~*~

  “Did I do something wrong?”

  Bianca watched Emil as he brooded angrily a few feet away from her. She hated how forlorn she felt, but she couldn’t help it. That kiss was like nothing she’d ever known before, yet it was everything she’d dreamed her first kiss would be. Now that he was gone, she felt his absence, when she’d never even considered it before.

  Emil shook his head. “Of course not,” he said gruffly, closing his eyes and taking another deep breath.

  The silence that fell between them was awkward now. Bianca put her arms around her shoulders to hug herself in an effort to shut out the cold and keep her hands from fidgeting.

  “Perhaps we should…” She turned slightly in the direction of the camp, but Emil stopped her.

  He closed the distance between them and grabbed her upper arm with a gentle hand. “No, I’m sorry,” he said. “I swear, Bianca, it’s nothing you did. That was…”

  Awful? Heavenly? Wretched? Bliss?

  “Magical,” he finished at last. “You are magical.”

  Bianca didn’t bother to stop the smile that came to her lips. He thought she was magical? That was far better than being beautiful, or even enchanting. Magical. She turned the word over and over in her head, reveling in its meaning.

  But she still didn’t understand. “Then why are you so upset?”

  Emil studied her and pain loomed behind his dark gaze. She stepped closer to him, then reached a hand up to caress his cheek. His stubble tickled her palm as he closed his eyes and nuzzled against it.

  When he looked at her again a moment later, the pain hadn’t gone away, though he seemed somewhat more at ease. She was glad she’d been able to do that much for him.

  “I think it’s time you know about Sasha,” he finally said.

  Uneasiness wriggled its way inside her. “All right.”

  Emil led her a few feet away to a soft patch of grass on the riverbank and together they sat, side by side. The wind picked up as they neared the water, and a chill chased up Bianca’s spine. She wished Emil would put his arm around her, but she sensed this wasn’t the right time. Not when she was about to learn about Sasha. Whoever that was.

  Emil picked a blade of vibrant green grass, twirled it in his fingers then tossed it aside before picking another. He’d gone through five blades before he finally spoke.

  “She was my first love,” he said, staring at the water and not at Bianca. “And my last. As a matter of fact, the wound is fairly fresh and painful still.”

  Bianca held her silence, no matter how hard it was to do so, while she waited for him to continue.

  “She was part of my tribe, and we were destined to marry. Even my mother saw it in her visions, in her cards. All signs pointed to her marrying Emilian.”

  There was such a bitterness in his tone when he spoke his name that it made Bianca flinch. Thankfully he didn’t notice, since his gaze was still outward, on the rushing water.

  He gave a cynical chuckle. “And she did!” he shouted. His laughter became more boisterous and disturbing as he jumped up and paced in front of her.

  “What do you mean?” Bianca couldn’t help but ask.

  “She did marry Emilian, but not this Emilian.” He gestured emphatically to himself and then took a long, excruciating pause before saying, in a much calmer tone, “She married my father.”

  Nothing—absolutely nothing—could have prepared Bianca for that response. Her mouth dropped open and she was sure that pure horror registered on her face.

  “Your father?” she whispered, hardly able to believe it.

  He dropped beside her again and put his head between his knees. “It’s been a year, but I can’t get over it,” he admitted. “I never even saw it coming, yet in one day, in one moment, I lost both the love of my life and my father. I don’t know which one I mourn more. They both meant the world to me.”

  “Where are they now?”

  Emil lifted his head and shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t think I want to know, either. They left a note one morning and were long gone before anyone had even woken. Cowards.”

  Bianca had to agree. What a cowardly thing to do, especially on his father’s part. A young, foolish woman, well…somehow that was more understandable, though not any more excusable. But his father, a grown man with a wife and a son—he should have known better.

  “Does your law allow for divorce, then?”

  Emil nodded. “It does. But it is complicated. And since my father and Sasha disappeared in the night, it doesn’t much matter.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said at last, not knowing what else to say.

  Though she understood his pain, the realization that he’d been thinking of her when they’d been kissing made a sick feeling arise in her stomach.

  Emil turned to her and took her hands in his. “Don’t be. Please. You’re the best thing to happen to me in a very long time. It’s because of you that I feel something—anything—again.”

  “But it makes you think of her.”

  The look of guilt that passed over his features told her it was true.

  “You’re the first woman I’ve kissed since she left. The first woman I’ve even wanted to kiss. I pray it’s only natural.”

  “Perhaps you shouldn’t kiss me again until you’re ready to think of just me.”

  A wide smile spread Emil’s lips apart. “Oh I’m more than ready, rinkini.”

  He pounced on Bianca, forcing her backward to the blanket of grassy earth beneath her. His weight came over her, warm and reassuring, just before his lips descended to hers. Again. For yet another blissful moment. A moment Bianca would never forget for as long as she lived.

  Nine

  Victoria and Fin sat patiently in the front parlor of Baron Tisbury’s townhome awaiting his imminent arrival. Victoria was certain it was imminent because no one would dare keep her waiting too long—they were all afraid she’d try to rob them if they stepped a toe out of line.

  She smiled at the thought. Having been an infamous highwayman afforded her far more power than her title ever could.

  “What is so funny?” Fin asked from beside her.

  “Oh, nothing,” Victoria replied airily, and then, “Did you really have to tag along this afternoon, Fin?”

  “You think I’d let you come to this lion’s den alone?”

  “I’ve dealt with worse.”

  Fin shot her a warning look. He didn’t like to talk about her more daring days. She’d nearly killed him with worry over the whole Newgate hanging thing, so she tried her best not to make him relive it.

  For her, it was a wonderful reminder of how exciting her life had been and how she’d made a narrow escape, like a modern day Joan of Arc.

  Although, Joan had burned at the stake in the end, hadn’t she?

  “Sorry to keep you waiting!” Baron Tisbury, in all his hideous glory, bustled into the parlor.

  Fin rose to greet him, but Victoria stayed precisely where she was, merely nodding her head in greeting.


  “Not to worry,” Fin said, always the diplomat. “Your parlor is quite comfortable.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. Can I offer you a drink? Tea, my lady?”

  Fin opened his mouth to accept, but Victoria barreled over him. “We won’t be staying long, my lord.” She procured the letter her brother had sent to her for the baron and handed it over. “My brother asked me to deliver this, and so here I am.”

  Tisbury gasped and took the letter. “Pray, is it news of my beloved?”

  Victoria thought she might toss up her accounts. What a bloody fake!

  Fin must have sensed her frustration, for he put a hand on her arm. A simple gesture of tenderness to any onlookers, but a clear warning between the two of them. A reminder that they had to appear to be on Tisbury’s side or they’d ruin the whole thing. The most important thing was Bianca’s safety, not Victoria’s need to put the man in his place.

  She took a deep breath to calm her racing heart. “I do believe so, my lord, though my brother told me very little.”

  They sat quietly as Tisbury read the letter. At last he looked away and folded the note in half again.

  “Not good news?” Fin asked.

  Tisbury shook his head. “None at all. Not hide nor hair of her.”

  Victoria turned her features downward to look appropriately solemn. “The poor thing. We shall continue to pray for her safety.”

  The baron nodded his head. “Thank you, my lady. My lord.”

  Fin stood and pulled Victoria from the sofa with him. “We’ll leave you be, Tisbury.”

  Fin gently pushed Victoria from the room. She hated when he did that, but she wasn’t in a position to argue just then. Besides, no one wanted to leave that man’s presence more than she did.

  Once they were out on the street, Victoria turned to her husband. “Do you think he bought it?”

  Fin shrugged. “Even if he didn’t, he doesn’t have any further information, at least not from us.”

  “Good.” Victoria nodded, agreeing with her husband’s logic. Bianca was safe for now, but who knew how long that would last. Tom needed to convince her to marry him as soon as was humanly possible. If he didn’t, Victoria had no doubt Tisbury would find her eventually, and God only knew what that day would bring.

  ~*~

  After a year of wondering, praying, doubting, hoping and a general feeling of unease and desperation, Emil had finally found relief. And her name was Bianca.

  Her smiles, her kisses—the sheer joy she brought to him—made him forget all about Sasha and Father.

  No, not forget. He doubted he could ever forget it. But she made it better. She made him not care so much. He had so much to look forward to—so much more to care about than that distant and painful memory. It had haunted him for so long, but now he couldn’t even imagine conjuring up the bitterness he’d once felt about it all. He had only joy, only love in his heart. Only Bianca.

  They walked side-by-side, headed for the village. The morning was crisp and cool, but the sun shone brightly on the path, turning the dew into sparkling drops of sunshine.

  Bianca had fully embraced the Roma lifestyle now. She wore her golden-brown hair down, wild with just a simple braid acting as a halo around the top of her head. The rest of it, wavy and long, bounced as she walked and an occasional strand would get caught on the breeze and blow across her face.

  Without her bonnet or parasol—two things he was certain she used at all times in society—her skin had started to darken slightly. It made her look healthy and robust—not quite a gypsy, but not a pasty English miss anymore, either.

  What she’d really embraced, however, was their clothing. Adora had helped her to alter some of her things so that they fit snuggly to her curves, accentuating all the parts of her that threatened to drive Emil out of his mind.

  “You’re awfully quiet this morning,” she said to him with a soft smile.

  He smiled back. “It’s hard to speak when one’s breath has been stolen.”

  Her smile widened and she cast him a sideways glance—the glance that meant she was feeling amorous. He’d come to enjoy that look quite a bit over the last few days since they’d shared that first kiss by the river.

  He stopped walking and dropped the handles of his cart, which carried a display of pots and pans he’d been working on.

  Bianca stopped too and eagerly ran to his arms. Their lips met, as they’d done countless times in the last few days. However, it seemed that every time they kissed, it became more urgent, more desperate. Emil knew what she wanted—he knew what he wanted. But she was young and innocent, and the future, while looking bright in this particular moment, was still so unsure. Not in the way that his life was in general. He was a nomad, after all. But part of him thought she might still be considering the offer from the Englishman. Emil tried not to think of it, and he certainly didn’t bring it up. He didn’t care to stick a pin in their lovely bubble.

  But Tom could offer her better protection, Emil knew this. She wasn’t protected really at all, out here in the open. He would do everything in his power to keep her safe, but he knew his power had its limits.

  It wasn’t just that, though. It was his mother. She saw things, knew things about the future—she’d never been wrong that Emil knew of. She’d kept her silence this last week, but the looks she gave him told her she knew something, and that made Emil uneasy. When he was ready, he would demand she tell him. But for now…

  Bianca pulled away from the kiss but remained close, enveloped in his arms. She wore a satisfied smile yet she pressed against him, burrowed into him, clearly longing for more.

  “Come,” he said, putting her away from him and picking up the handles of his cart again. “I must make a living today.”

  ~*~

  Tom hadn’t been quite this bored in a very long time. There was little to do in this sleepy little village. He’d already gone out for a long ride this morning after breakfast, and now he was at a loss for what to do.

  He stood on the cobblestones just outside a ribbon shop, contemplating going in and searching for something pretty for Sally. Not that he had any clue what an eight-year-old girl might like, but at least it would give him something to occupy his time.

  Good God, if buying ribbons was the only thing to occupy his time here, he’d need to take out a loan.

  He turned to go inside when a clattering sound came from down the road. Curious and—as he’d established earlier, bored—Tom stepped into the street to see if he could ascertain what had caused the commotion.

  Partly to his delight and alternately to his annoyance, he found Miss Manning in the middle of the road helping her gypsy pick up pots and pans that had fallen from his cart. What the devil did she think she was doing? What if Tisbury had spies out looking for her? She could take her hair down and don gypsy clothing, but it was obvious she was an Englishwoman playing a part.

  Damn.

  Tom stalked up the road to where they stood laughing over the mishap. They didn’t see him approach, so both started a bit when he pounced upon them.

  “What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?” he hissed from behind them.

  Miss Manning whirled around, alarmed, but the Rom merely turned his head, his jaw locked in obvious annoyance.

  “Tom!” She acted as if she were shocked to find him there.

  He narrowed his eyes. “You’re supposed to be in hiding, remember?”

  “Bianca, you didn’t tell me your friend would be staying in town.” The gypsy looked positively murderous when he raised his eyes to Tom.

  “I-I…”

  She couldn’t say she didn’t know—what if Tom called her out for lying?

  “She didn’t know,” he finally said, much to Miss Manning’s surprise. “But it’s a good thing I decided to stay, isn’t it?”

  “Why is that?” the gypsy asked.

  “Emil—that is your name, isn’t it?” When he nodded, Tom went on. “I don’t know if Miss Manning has p
ainted an ample picture of her intended. He’s ruthless and not quite right in the head, if you know what I mean. Having her here, out in the open, is incredibly dangerous. You need to get her back to camp. Now.”

  “No, wait!” Bianca stepped forward. “Emil is here to work—if he doesn’t sell his things, people go hungry.”

  “It’s all right, Bianca. Tom is right. We should go back.”

  “Why don’t I stay here? I can hide in Tom’s room at the inn until you’re ready to go.”

  Tom groaned. This was not what he’d had in mind. He wasn’t quite sure he could handle having her in his room, on his bed…

  Lord help me.

  It was obvious Emil wasn’t thrilled with the idea either, but it was also obvious that Bianca wasn’t going to take no for an answer. She looked at him with those wide and unwavering blue eyes, waiting for him to lead the way.

  “No one will starve, Bianca,” Emil finally said. “I will take you back to camp.”

  “I can’t let you lose a day of work,” she countered. “We’ve come all this way, after all. It seems foolish to turn around now, when I have a perfectly safe place to hide away.”

  Both men knew she wouldn’t be entirely safe in Tom’s room. From Tisbury, she would be, but Tom couldn’t promise he wouldn’t try to convince her to marry him all afternoon. And if that meant using charm and other methods, it couldn’t be helped.

  Much to his surprise, the Rom nodded his head curtly. “Fine. I will come for you before supper.”

  Bianca smiled. “Perfect. Now, how to get me inside without anyone seeing?”

  Ten

  Bianca felt like the worst person on earth. She hadn’t done it on purpose—when she’d made the suggestion, she hadn’t really been thinking. However, when Tom took her by the elbow and her body heated at his touch, she was flooded with guilt.

  She hadn’t done anything wrong, though, so why did she feel as if she were being unfaithful to Emil?

  Goodness, she was confused. Was it possible for the heart to love two men at once?

  She shook her head. She didn’t love anyone. How could she? She hadn’t known either of them long enough to make such a proclamation.