Taken by the Wicked Rake. Christine Merrill

Taken by the Wicked Rake - Christine  Merrill


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was the softest in the camp. He would turn a deaf ear to her complaints. In a week or less, her father would be begging to get her back, and Stephano would be glad to be rid of her.

      He glanced over at his grandmother’s tent, and at the trim Romany girl that sat on the bench beside it. Soon he would settle the Beshaley curse. And if he survived the experience, he would spend his evenings by the fire in camp, flirting with a pretty girl like that. He would have a happy wife, and a vardo full of children.

      And then, the last rays of sun touched the honey-blond hair of the girl by the fire. His anger at his own mistake made his head ring with pain as sharp and clear as ever he’d felt. He handed the last of the candy from his pocket to the nearest child, and stalked across the camp to confront his escaped prisoner. ‘What are you doing, out of the wagon?’

      ‘I’m sorry?’ Lady Verity Carlow gave him a frigid smile. ‘Did you mean for me to remain there? You did not say.’

      ‘I thought the message was clear enough.’

      ‘I assumed that you had come to your senses, and sent the old lady to feed and clothe me, as an apology.’ She lifted her chin and gathered her dignity. With a little toss of her head, she made the borrowed dress look like the height of London fashion. ‘Unless she came to me without your permission. Perhaps your followers are not as obedient as you think.’

      Which was true enough, if they were talking of his grandmother. ‘Magda!’ He bellowed her name, and the old crone came out of her tent—slowly, to show him that his desire for her immediate presence was not likely to hurry her steps.

      She glanced up at him in mock surprise and said in Romany. ‘You have returned, grandson?’

      He answered her in the same language, knowing she would only pretend ignorance if he talked English for the benefit of his prisoner. ‘Old woman, who let the girl out of my vardo?’

      ‘I did, of course. She was squalling like a baby goat.’ She turned to the girl and made a rude, bleating noise that made Verity jump back in alarm. ‘I looked in through the window and saw that you had left her bare. And with not a thing to eat. You had given no word when you might return. Did you mean to starve her?’

      ‘I was not gone a day, as you can see. Missing a meal would do her no harm.’

      Magda shrugged. ‘How was I to know? So I gave her some clothes so that she would not shame herself, and brought her out to feed her. What do you mean, bringing this gadji into the camp to sleep in my wagon?’

      ‘I built the wagon for you. I use it because you refuse to sleep there.’

      Magda made a face. ‘The soft bed hurts my back. And a true Rom does not need such luxury. To sleep on the ground as Devla intended—’

      ‘Why is it that you only wish to sleep on Devla’s earth, when I offer to make you comfortable by giving you a bed?’

      ‘I do not want your bed, if you mean to pollute it with a gadji.

      ‘She is here as a hostage, to gain control of her father. And where she sleeps is none of your business, old woman.’ Magda was glaring at him, again, and he flashed the ward against the evil eye because he knew it would annoy her.

      ‘Evil?’ She laughed. ‘It is high time you worried about such things. Bringing an English girl here is bringing the curse back to our home.’

      ‘I never meant for her to leave the vardo.’

      ‘Even worse.’ Magda moaned. ‘Is she a gadji whore, that you must keep her naked in your bed? Your mother would roll in her grave, to see that you have learned nothing from her mistakes.’

      ‘Do not mention my mother, chivani.

      ‘I will do as I like.’ She looked at the girl and cried, ‘Whore!’ But since she was still speaking Romany, the girl merely looked puzzled by the outburst.

      ‘She is not a whore, and I do not mean to bed her. I took her clothing to make it impossible for her to run. In a few days she will be gone.’

      ‘A few days, a few minutes, a few years. It does not matter.’ Magda moaned. ‘What decent Rom will give his daughter to you, if this is the way you behave?’

      ‘I do not seek a bride, Rom or otherwise.’

      ‘Just a whore. Perhaps her family will not mind what she has been to you. But you, at least, should have enough pride not to flaunt your lewd behaviour in front of your grandmother.’

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