A Dangerous Love (17 page)

His image flashed as she had last seen him, cold and impassive and ruthlessly set against her.

More pain stabbed through her.

Too late, she realized she was a romantic fool.

Margery set the parcel down and ran to her. Ariella stood and her cousin wrapped her in her arms. She had no tears left, even though she wished to weep in Margery's arms. But the pain remained, burning in her chest. Maybe one day she could hate him, except he had told her exactly what would happen if she trysted with him.

“Darling.” Margery stepped back but held her shoulders.
“Who did this?”
She looked at the bed. It was obvious her innocence was gone.

Ariella couldn't answer. As horrible as Emilian was, she was reluctant to name him, even to Margery, whom she could trust with such a terrible secret.

Margery clearly fought for calm. “Why aren't you telling me what happened and who did this to you?”

She tensed. “I came here for a tryst. I thought I was in love and that he loved me, too. I was wrong,” she managed.

Margery gasped. “When did you fall in love with St Xavier? For that matter, when did you meet?”

Ariella felt the grief rising. Her love had been one-sided. She couldn't possibly love him now. It was hard to analyze her emotions, as she was so consumed with hurt. “It's almost noon. Will you please help me get home without discovery?”

“Without discovery? Ariella, your father will make certain St Xavier marries you!”

“I don't want to marry him. It wasn't St Xavier!” Ariella cried in return, her composure fragile. “It was the Rom!”

Margery gasped. “The Gypsy?”

Ariella walked over to the parcel, clutching the sheet tightly to her body. She felt battered all over, physically, as well as emotionally. “Yes, it was Emilian.”

Margery followed. She took the parcel and opened it, laying the items not on the bed, which she now fastidiously ignored, but on the small sofa. She said tersely, “I am not certain how you could think yourself in love with a man you met the other day.”

Ariella wiped her eyes. “Everyone in our family falls in love suddenly, sooner or later. I am no exception to that rule, obviously.”

“You are in love with Emilian,” Margery said slowly, paler than before.

“I thought I was!” Ariella cried.

Margery took her into her arms. “Oh, Ariella, I don't know what to say! You have gone too far…but your father can force him to the altar!”

“I have never been so drawn to anyone before. The moment I laid eyes on Emilian, I was smitten.” She inhaled. “I suppose he was right. He told me it was desire, not love. He warned me to stay away from him. In fact, I dismissed his every warning. He told me if we made love, he'd walk away the next day.” She trembled. Why hadn't she listened? “Apparently I have not fallen in love after all. Apparently I was simply stricken with desire.”

Margery's eyes were huge. A terrible pause ensued. “He warned you away and you came to him anyway?” she finally asked in disbelief.

“I made a terrible mistake.” Ariella bit her lip. “How simple hindsight is. He is leaving soon. I kept thinking that if I came to Woodland, an affair would be the beginning for us.”

Margery rubbed her face. Then she spoke briskly. “He is a terrible rogue, reprehensible, truly, but at least he told you his intentions, as dishonorable as they were. He seemed to wish for you to stay away. Any other woman would have heeded his word!”

Ariella closed her eyes briefly, in pain. How well she knew that.

“Well, mistakes are made every day and it is not the end of the world. Let's get you dressed and home and we will consider the situation then together. We
will
save your reputation,” she added firmly.

Ariella wasn't sure she cared about her reputation, but her parents would care very much. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Margery helped her pull on a chemise, petticoats and a blue dress. “Would you marry him?”

Ariella looked at her. Her mind went blank.

“I meant what I said before. If you go to your father, he will bring Emilian to the altar and you know it.”

Her heart began shrieking at her. She didn't understand its turmoil. She covered her breast with her hand. “I am confused, Margery. An hour ago, I woke up in joy and so wildly in love.”

Margery became even paler.

“He was so cold, so calm. He was
cruel.
”

Margery rushed to her to hold her again.

Ariella pushed her away. “No. I am a fool. I thought I had found what everyone else in this family has—true love that will last forever. But instead, I walked into a sordid affair. I am so hurt I cannot think straight.”

“I am utterly tired of that family myth,” Margery said with heat. “Do you know when the Gypsies are leaving Derbyshire?”

Ariella realized Margery was considering a forced marriage for her sake, but it would be impossible to accomplish if Emilian vanished with the Romany and couldn't be found. “I don't know when the Roma will leave. I don't think Emilian can be forced to do anything, not even by my father.” Suddenly her knees buckled and she felt faint. Her entire plan had failed. He was leaving anyway.

“Last night I made love to him,” she gasped, light-headed and crying. “I told him I loved him. But he didn't make love to me. I can't marry a man who doesn't love me.” She wanted Margery to understand. “Could you?”

“No,” Margery said grimly. “I could not.”

Ariella inhaled. “I have never wanted a proper marriage, anyway.” But as hurt and distraught as she was, she knew there would be nothing ordinary and proper about marriage to a man like Emilian.

“You deserve true love, Ariella—and you will find it, because you are the most extraordinary woman in this family!” Margery exclaimed. “You are brilliant, educated and kind. You have never been mean to anyone. That man will suffer for what he has done! You deserve a gentleman, Ariella, not a cad.”

Ariella shook her head. “He probably suffers every single day of his life.”

Margery's eyes widened.

“You were in the village yesterday. He is hated, despised. There are shops and inns which refuse him admittance. You should have seen the mayor and his cronies at Rose Hill before you arrived. They were in a frenzy to chase the Gypsies away.”

“Please, do not allow yourself any compassion for him now.”

“If you are telling me to hate him, I cannot. He is hated enough as it is.” She realized, in that moment, she had spoken an absolute truth.

“Ariella,” Margery cried. “Your compassion is dangerous! What if he takes advantage of it?”

“Don't worry. I am never going near him again. I am never joining him in bed again. I have learned my lesson. It is far too painful to ignore.” She would stay away from him now. Her compassion wasn't dangerous;
he
was dangerous.

Margery began buttoning up the back of her dress. “We need a plan. For the life of me, I do not know how we will return to Rose Hill. Your disappearance has been noted. When I left, Amanda said you must have taken a book and were curled up somewhere, reading.”

As she often disappeared for hours upon hours with a book, it was not unusual. “I have a plan, but it isn't a good one.” She picked up a hairbrush. “I am going to tell half of the truth and then I am going to lie.”

Margery turned and their gazes locked. “When have you ever lied, much less to your parents, your family?”

“I have no choice,” Ariella said firmly. “If I don't lie, my father will kill him.”

 

E
MILIAN HALTED
his gray stallion in front of the White Stag Inn. The sign with the hated words remained. Red rage filled him as he slid from the horse, and an image of his sister at the piano, tears ruining her smile, assailed him. He tied the stallion to the post and barged inside.

The common room was dank, dark and smoke filled. About a dozen men were at several tables and the bar. Heads turned his way and conversation ceased. He glanced at the bar, where the innkeeper, Jack Tollman, was serving ale. He smiled, relishing the likelihood that someone would point out that he was a half blood and must be put out.
Let them try.

Instead, Jack beamed at him. “Welcome to the White Stag, my lord,” he said. “'Tis a fine afternoon fer a mug. Aye, boys?”

The two men seated at the bar nodded, smiling in welcome, obsequiously.

Emilian knew that when he turned his back, they would whisper about him. They would slur him and
his kind.
He slowly moved, his eyes on Jack. “Where is the palm reader, Tollman?” he asked coolly.

Jack's smile faltered. “Haven't seen her, my lord. She was here yesterday. But she cheated the customers and I sent her packing.”

He leaned on the bar, uncomfortably close to Jack, who stiffened. The man's breath was sour from imbibing. “The reader cheated no one,” he said softly.

“I beg yer pardon,” Jack said with obvious unease. “O' course, we made a mistake about the Gypsy wench.”

“The Gypsy wench is my
sister.
”

Jack blanched.

Emilian seized him by throat and tightened his fingers. Jack choked. Emilian imagined Jaelle being groped; he saw her running from these men. He increased the pressure with pleasure.

“S-stop!” Jack Tollman begged.

“You touched her, hurt her!” he roared. He wanted to kill this man for what he had done.

Hands grasped him from behind. He ignored them, dragging Tollman over the bar while his customers frantically tried to pull him away. As the innkeeper's eyes bulged in fear and panic, he heard them shouting at him to stop. Hands pulled at his shoulders, his arms, his wrists. He refused to release Tollman, aware that every man in the room was trying to get him off of the innkeeper now.
Let them try.
Tollman would pay for what he had tried to do to Jaelle and he would watch him slowly die.

He was about to commit murder.

The knowledge wafted through his mind. A distant part of him was horrified.

But Raiza's sightless eyes came to mind, as she lay broken on a cobbled Edinburgh street, murdered by the
gadjos.

I love you, Emilian.

He heard Ariella's passionate declaration, but saw her as he had left her, hurt and pale, her eyes filled with tears of pain.

Don't do this, Emilian.

It was as if Ariella stood there beside him, he heard her that clearly.

He hesitated, his grip easing. Suddenly he was wrestled away from Tollman, a blow landing on his jaw. He was pushed hard across the room. He stumbled to the floor, swiftly rising. As he did, he saw Tollman collapsing, choking.

“Tried to kill Jack!”

“Murdering Romany swine!”

He straightened, aware now that the mob was ready to come after him. Braced for an attack, he silently dared the assembled crowd to say another word about him. A silence fell. Every stare directed at him was hostile; every man was poised to rush him.

“No one touches her again,” he said, fingering his bloodied lip. “Or you will answer to me.” As he strode to the door, he heard them muttering about Gypsies and thieves. He felt the crowd moving behind him like wolves, following him with predatory intent.

He knew if he ran, they'd set chase. He knew they wanted to tear him apart. He pushed outside, into daylight, brushing past a gentleman entering the inn. They followed him to the threshold.

“What is going on?” the dark man demanded, turning around.

Emilian paused by the hitching post, breathing hard, shaken by his own actions. He had never been filled with such murderous violence before.

“He tried to murder Jack, Captain de Warenne,” someone cried.

He started, glancing at the gentleman. As the man looked at him grimly, he recognized his blue eyes and guessed that this man was Ariella's brother. A new tension began.

“This is over,” the gentleman said. “Go back inside,” he ordered the crowd. Grumbling, they obeyed, except for Jack Tollman, who appeared in the doorway.

“I will fight my own battles,” Emilian told de Warenne.

De Warenne looked at him as if he was an idiot. “Really? You were about to be beaten and, considering the odds, I think you might have wound up dead.” His demeanor was cool. “I am Alexi de Warenne.”

Emilian had no intention of introducing himself. He didn't need help from Alexi de Warenne or anyone.

“He assaulted me,” Tollman gasped furiously. “I want him locked up. I want him charged with murder!”

The insane urge to do violence swiftly arose. Emilian stepped forward and he smiled. “Good. Charge me. And you will be charged with the attempted rape of my sister.”