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  Emil knew what she was going to say, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear it. She wasn’t sure, that much was obvious. He didn’t want her to admit to loving him and then in the end decide she didn’t want to be with him, to share his life as a gypsy.

  Before she could finish her sentence, he put a finger to her lips. “Don’t,” he said.

  Her voice came out a strained whisper when she asked, “Why?”

  “What happened today?”

  “Why does it matter?”

  “Because you’re so reluctant to tell me.”

  She closed her eyes, and turned away. “It’s not at all what you’re thinking,” she said.

  Emil stalked closer, feeling suddenly possessive and just a little jealous. She’d been in Tom’s room all day, after all. Had he seduced her? Had he tried to sway her to marry him? “Did he kiss you?”

  The words escaped his lips before he could stop them. He hadn’t wanted to ask—God knew he didn’t want to know the answer. Unless, of course, the answer was no.

  Bianca smiled softly and shook her head. “No.”

  Relief flooded through him and he took a deep breath to calm his frayed nerves.

  When he looked at her again, it was obvious that something far worse than a kiss had transpired. “Then what?” he couldn’t help but ask.

  “His sister arrived today. She’s something of a legend in London, and somehow she’s taken a vested interest in my future.”

  Emil wasn’t entirely sure where this was going, but he was sure he didn’t like it.

  “We talked for a good while. I told her about you.” Her smile was weak when she said that last part, as if it were a peace offering. “But she made some very good points about what my life would be and, more importantly, what it wouldn’t be.”

  He’d known this was coming. She wasn’t one of them—she wasn’t born to the nomadic lifestyle, and Emil understood how someone like Bianca would be torn between the two worlds. She had a family, after all. Sisters she most certainly cared about. A life that Emil couldn’t even begin to understand. Though he could certainly try, couldn’t he?

  “What if we—” Good God, was he really going to suggest this? “What if we divided our time?”

  Bianca’s eyes grew round. “I beg your pardon?”

  Emil rushed forward, suddenly warming to the idea, especially if it meant keeping Bianca by his side. “What if we spent half the year in the camp and the other half in…London.” He nearly choked on the word. What would he do in London? How would he be received?

  He’d expected Bianca to burst into laughter at his suggestion, but she didn’t. She merely stared back at him with the most stunned expression he’d ever seen in her blue eyes. “You would do that for me?” she finally asked, her voice a mere whisper.

  “Bianca, perhaps you hadn’t noticed, but I’m quite taken with you.” He gave her a sly grin.

  She smiled back, but didn’t stray from the topic. “What will we do for money?”

  “I will open up a shop.” More words he never thought he’d say. He didn’t even know if that was possible to do, but he would try. Whatever it took.

  “This is too much, Emil. I can’t ask you to abandon your family. What about your mother?”

  “My mother is an awfully strong woman. Besides, she probably already knows of our plans. Just say yes. Please, Bianca. I want to be the one to take care of you, to protect you.”

  He waited as patiently as he could, trying to read her mind and failing, desperate to know what she was thinking. And then, from nowhere, she leapt into his arms, wrapping her legs around his middle. She grabbed his face with her hands, as he held her tightly against him, and pressed her lips to his. Emil gladly kissed her back, his heart racing, his spirit soaring.

  When she pulled away, Emil laughingly asked, “Should I assume that is a yes?”

  “Yes.” She nodded; the sweetest smile he’d ever seen lit her face.

  He set her down and picked up the handles of his cart again. “Come,” he said, “we will have a celebration tonight.”

  ~*~

  Victoria drummed her fingers on the rough wooden table in the taproom of the inn. She couldn’t stop thinking about Bianca and her dilemma. Whatever was she going to do to help her? She’d thought she was being helpful with all her questions and advice, yet now she wondered if she’d been more a hindrance than help. The poor girl seemed so torn, so conflicted, and Victoria couldn’t blame her.

  Tom came to the table, a large pint of ale in one hand and a steaming cup of tea in the other. “Here.” He placed the tea before her.

  “Thank you,” she said, cupping the tea in her palm. “I’m frozen to the bone in this drafty place.”

  Tom didn’t respond. He took a sip of his ale, placed the pint back on the table and stared blankly into the dark liquid. She’d never seen him quite so distressed. Was it possible he actually cared for Bianca? Or was he simply missing Jamaica again? She couldn’t get that out of her head, either. Was he staying here, in England, because of her? Would he go back to the islands if she gave her blessing?

  “Tom?”

  His head snapped up and it struck her how much he looked like Papa. She’d never seen it before, but as he aged, it was becoming obvious. A reminder that one day he would inherit what was rightfully his. Was that why he stayed? “Are you all right?”

  Tom scoffed and turned away. “How could I be?”

  “I know I can be difficult, as far as little sisters go.” She reached across the table and took his hand in hers. “But I just want to help. I see you’re…upset. Please, tell me what I can do.”

  He pulled his hand away. “That’s just the thing, Vickie. There’s nothing you can do. I’m stuck here. Stuck in a place I hate and without the woman I—”

  Victoria reared back. “Love?” she asked, astonished.

  Tom shook his head. “No. Not love. At least not yet.” He tapped the side of his glass thoughtfully. “But I could. I care what happens to her, and that’s rare, isn’t it?”

  “For you? Yes.”

  They both laughed and then fell into silence again. Victoria hated how helpless she felt. But what more could she do?

  The door to the inn swung open, slamming against the wall behind it, and Fin stalked into the taproom. He looked rather harried. Victoria stood immediately, knowing something must be wrong. “What is it?”

  Fin looked from her to Tom, who still sat at the table, his hands cupped around the pint of ale.

  “He’s coming.”

  Victoria’s heart began to race. “Who?” she asked, even though she was fairly certain she already knew the answer.

  “Tisbury.”

  That was all it took. Tom leapt from his seat so quickly that he knocked both his chair and his ale over in the process. Victoria moved quickly to right the fallen glass as Tom stalked from the table toward the staircase.

  “Where are you going?” Victoria called after him.

  “To get Bianca.”

  “Do you mean to run with her?”

  Tom was already gone, so Fin answered for him. “They have to. He’s armed, and he’s not alone.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  Fin raised his brows. “I’m rather useful sometimes, too, you know? I just don’t make a spectacle of it.”

  Victoria wasn’t in the mood for teasing. She placed her hands on her hips and gave him a scolding stare.

  “Charlie’s been keeping an eye out.”

  “You mean spying?”

  “If that’s how you prefer to think of it.”

  Victoria kissed him on the cheek. “I’ve never been so proud of you.” Despite her attempt at lightening the mood, her stomach still plummeted at the thought of Tisbury coming here, with guns and allies. “What does he plan to do?”

  “Who knows? But it’s imperative Tom get her to safety.”

  “And what about the tribe?”

  Fin shook his head and took Victoria’s hand in his, giving i
t a reassuring squeeze. “There’s no telling what Tisbury is about.”

  Victoria squeezed back. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

  Thirteen

  Bianca couldn’t ever remember feeling quite this happy. The tribe had rejoiced in their announcement and everyone had immediately begun preparations for that evening’s celebration. Now, Bianca sat beside her soon-to-be husband, eating a glorious feast while several of the tribe’s musicians serenaded them with their exotic-sounding songs.

  As Bianca shoved the last bite of bread into her mouth, Emil turned to her with a wide smile on his face.

  “I have a gift for you,” he said.

  “Oh,” she said, at a loss. “But I have nothing for you in return.”

  “Silly gadje, it isn’t always necessary to give something in return. Sometimes it is best to simply say thank you.”

  Bianca flashed him a wry smile. “I know that,” she said cheekily.

  Emil turned around and procured a gold necklace with dangling coins. “Normally, my father would be the one to present this to you, to welcome you to our family, but…well, I suppose I don’t need to explain why I’m presenting it instead.”

  Bianca shook her head. “It means more to me coming from you, anyway.”

  “May I?”

  She moved forward so he could clasp it around her neck. The gold coins felt smooth and cool against her skin, and she reached up to touch them with her fingers.

  “I love it,” she said, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek.

  “I’m glad.” Emil smiled and held out his hand to her. “Now, may I have this dance?”

  Bianca gladly took his hand. He led her to the small patch of land that had been deemed the dance floor and allowed him to lead her in a dance. It was nothing like what she’d learned from her private dance tutor. It was raucous and fun—Bianca had never felt so free in all her life.

  That was, until she saw him. Tom.

  Dear God, what was he doing here?

  She stopped dancing to watch him approach. Slowly, the others stopped too and eventually the music died away as well.

  Bianca’s heart raced as he approached. Not because she was again stricken by his dashing good looks, but because of the expression he wore. Not angry, but close to it. Determined, worried. Either way, it was easy to guess that his purpose was not to congratulate them on their impending nuptials.

  She wouldn’t force him to come to her in the middle of the makeshift dance floor. That would just be cruel with everyone looking on. So she scurried across the space and met him at the edge of the field. Emil was at her back, she could feel him there, but she didn’t dare turn around to look at him. She already knew he wore a murderous expression.

  “Tom, what are you doing here?” she asked as she approached, still slightly out of breath from the rigorous dancing.

  Tom eyed Emil and looked about at the other onlookers before focusing on Bianca again. “He’s coming.”

  The blood drained from her face, leaving her cold, her heart fluttering and her hands tingling.

  “How do you know?”

  Tom looked at her, his eyes wide. “Does it really matter?”

  Bianca felt slightly stupid. No, it didn’t matter. “No,” she said sheepishly. “But thank you. I will stay hidden in the vardo—”

  “No.”

  She whirled around to look at Emil. “What do you mean no?”

  “I mean no,” he said emphatically. “I won’t risk him finding you.”

  “Then what do you suggest I do?”

  Emil shifted his gaze to Tom without saying a word. He didn’t have to, however. The message was very clear.

  “You wish for me to go with him?”

  “There is no other way.”

  “There is another way! I can stay here with you. I can hide,” she added, knowing that argument was weak since she’d already tried to make it before. “Please, Emil. I won’t leave you.”

  “You will.” This came from Adora, who appeared as if from nowhere to join their little circle. “You must. There will be…” She caught herself from saying whatever it was she was going to say and instead said, “You must go. Now.”

  Tom’s warm hand clasped around hers as she stared dumbfounded at Adora. This couldn’t be happening. She’d finally made her choice. She was happy, truly happy, for the first time in her life. Now what would become of her?

  She turned to Emil, her eyes beseeching him to let her stay. But he stood stoic, expressionless, staring at her. Though he said nothing, made no move to even say good-bye, she could see it in his eyes—the conflict, the pain. He didn’t want her to go just as much as she didn’t want to. But he was certain there was no choice.

  “I love you,” she murmured as Tom began dragging her away.

  Emil’s features softened for just a moment and he closed his eyes briefly in acknowledgement.

  “Come, Bianca,” Tom said, tugging on her arm. “We must make haste.”

  With tears in her eyes, Bianca finally tore her gaze away from Emil and followed Tom to the trees—to her future.

  ~*~

  Emil stood completely still as he watched Tom drag his intended—and his heart—into the trees. God only knew when he’d see her again. If he’d see her again. The flood of anger and jealousy and despair threatened to overcome him, but he couldn’t let it. Not when a certain battle awaited them. He had to be strong for his tribe, for his mother.

  He turned to her. She stood beside him, stoic and quiet, but with definite fear in her eyes.

  “What did you see?” he asked quietly. It wouldn’t do to frighten the rest of them. He only had to get them to safety.

  “I knew this day would come. I told you she would bring prikaza to our tribe.”

  “This isn’t her fault.”

  Adora stared at him, her nostrils flaring. She had told him, but he hadn’t wanted to listen. He wanted to be with Bianca and that was all that mattered. But now with his people facing danger, he realized what a horribly selfish decision he’d made, letting her stay.

  “No,” his mother said, her voice quiet but intense. “It’s your fault.”

  “Then I shall bear the consequences.”

  “You will not be the only one.”

  With that, she turned and walked away, barking orders at the heads of the families. That was Emil’s job, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. He was paralyzed by his mother’s words. What did she mean? What horrific fate awaited him?

  The sound of horses’ hooves in the distance told him he wouldn’t have to wait long to find out.

  “Everyone, inside!” he shouted to those who remained out of doors.

  Some followed his orders, but a few of the men—the ones who’d stood beside him that day when Tom first arrived—did not. They made certain their families were safe and then joined Emil where he stood waiting for the gaje to arrive.

  Adora joined them too.

  “Inside, Mother,” he ordered.

  “I did not approve of this plan—this plan to bring that girl into our camp or the plan to marry her and make her one of us. But I will be damned if I’m going to stand by and let my son face this filthy dog alone.”

  While his mother’s sentiment struck a chord in his heart and caused a lump to form in his throat, he still could not let her stand with him against the gaje.

  “I would never forgive myself if something were to happen to you,” he said. “Please. Go inside.”

  The thumping of horse hooves had stopped minutes earlier, which meant the men were in the woods, getting closer. His mother peered up at him, tears in her eyes, but finally she gave his hands a final squeeze and then scurried inside.

  Emil faced the trees to see six men ride into the clearing on horseback. It didn’t take him any time at all to figure out which one was Tisbury. He rode in the middle, slightly in front of the others. And it was obvious he’d found a ragtag group of men to join him on his barbaric quest to find the woman who’d run away from him. No
t a true gentleman among them.

  “Where is she?” Tisbury asked without preamble.

  Emil crossed his arms over his chest, wishing the coward would come down from his mount. It was obvious he was much smaller than Emil, but still, he had the advantage being on horseback.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Emil said.

  “Just hand her over, and no one will get hurt.”

  No one spoke a word, but the collective tensing of the men on the ground was palpable. The threat of hurting their tribe, their families, was not taken lightly.

  Still, Emil had to keep as calm and nonchalant as possible. He shrugged. “Could you be more specific? We’re not usually about just handing over members of our families to Englishmen, no matter how demanding they might be.”

  Tisbury’s face turned beet red and his nostrils flexed open and closed. “You have my fiancée in there somewhere. I know you do. Now give her to me.”

  “If you’re talking about the English girl who came begging for shelter, you’ll have to look elsewhere,” Emil said, praying this would do the trick.

  The baron narrowed his eyes at him. “What are you talking about?”

  “We sent her away…nearly two weeks ago.” He gave a little laugh for good measure. “You think we would dare bring that kind of bad luck to our tribe?”

  Tisbury studied him a moment longer. “You swear you’re telling the truth?”

  “On my life.”

  “Fine. Let’s go, men.”

  He turned his horse around, and Emil breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God they were leaving.

  About halfway back to the trees, Tisbury stopped to study something on the ground. Emil’s heart raced as he thought of Bianca and Tom headed in that same direction. What was there? What had he found?

  Emil didn’t have time to think. Before he could make a single move, the sound of a gunshot rang through the air, followed by searing pain in his shoulder. Blood soaked his shirt and the pain sent him careening to the ground. He was rendered helpless as the other men lit torches from the campfire and threw them at the tents and vardos.

  The screams of his people rang in his ears just as his entire world went black.