Perilous Pleasures (2 page)

Then, without apparent signal, a huge black-maned lion left his pedestal, crouched, and stalked toward his trainer. "
Rafat! Seats
!" Janacek commanded. The animal, ignoring the order, crept forward and began to circle.

From behind Johanna came a man's voice. "Keep moving, Stefan," the man said.

Joanna turned and saw a man with peppery-gray hair and a drooping mustache. She looked away, but in that instant she'd seen real fear in the man's eyes. The lion continued to circle, refusing to obey his trainer. Stefan Janacek turned, while holding the whip close to the animal's face. "
Rafat! Seats
!" he repeated, while moving toward the defiant animal.

"More space, Stefan," the man behind Joanna said. "Give him more space."

Although Joanna knew the man's words had been too soft for Stefan Janacek to hear, he took a step backwards.

"Good, Stefan, not too far." For a moment the man said nothing, then he shouted, "
Behind
!" as the lion backed Janacek against a pedestal, almost toppling him. The cat raised a massive paw and flashed protracted claws. The features on his face twisted, and low growls rattled from his throat. Janacek grabbed a pedestal. Clenching it with both hands, he swung it at the lion, who struck it with his paw, trying to knock it from his trainer's hands. Joanna noted the sureness of the man's movements, the concentration on his face, the strength in his hands as he gripped the pedestal while warding off the blows of the defiant cat. She also saw that he was perilously close to losing his grip as one powerful blow from the lion's paw followed another.

"
Rafat. No
!" Janacek yelled, raising the pedestal to block the blows. The lion backed and crouched, tail flicking, muscles quivering as he tightened to spring. In a flash, the animal launched forward, but in that instant, Stefan Janacek swung the heavy pedestal, striking the lion on the side of the jaw. Dazed, the lion shook his great maned head, turned and skulked along the perimeter of the cage, looking for an escape. "Seats!" This time, the lion took his seat on a pedestal. After a few moments had ticked by, when it appeared that the big cat would remain sitting, Stefan Janacek called to his handlers, "
Let '
em
out
."

It wasn't until then that Joanna realized she'd been holding her breath.

After each animal scurried through the chute, Stefan Janacek marched out of the enclosure. What caught Joanna's attention as he walked toward her was the color of his eyes. Not dark as she'd expected of a gypsy, but green. The purest, deepest green she'd ever seen. In fact, he was the most exotic-looking man she'd ever laid eyes on, with his black wavy hair, solid muscled body, and... those green, green eyes.

He gave no indication that he noticed her as he approached the gray-haired man behind her and said, in a surprisingly calm voice, "Thanks for the warning, Walter."

"Next time it may come too late," the man named Walter said. "That cat's a killer. The day will come when he'll raise havoc in the big cage. Get rid of him!"

"No. He's too fine an animal. He just needs to be shown who's boss."

"You know what that cat did to Daniels. He's a rebel. Get rid of him."

"No!" Stefan Janacek turned and stalked out of the pavilion, followed by the older man, who Joanna could see was terribly distraught. It was only then, while she stood looking after them, that she became aware of the hard pounding of her heart...

And of Karl Porter's voice saying, "An exceptional man don't you agree? But then, the Romany are rather impressive people, passionate people, I understand."

Joanna eyed Karl with disdain. "I find that kind of act ostentatious."

"It's what the audience wants," Karl said. "They don't come to watch routine acts presented by—" he trailed a finger along her jaw "—spiritless performers. They want danger." He smiled a slow, cunning smile. "Stefan Janacek and his cats will give them exactly what they want. The threat of death at any moment."

Joanna bit back a scathing retort. "Excuse me," she said. "I have work to do." She turned and stalked around the big cage, feeling Karl's eyes on her as she crossed the vast space beneath the canvas covering of the pavilion to where Otto stood talking to Gene.

Gene walked up to meet her. "What did Porter say to you?" he asked.

Joanna glanced to where Karl stood watching her, and replied, "He was praising the glory of his latest acquisition. He's obsessed with danger."

"Then we'll put more danger in our act," Gene said.

"What do you propose we do? Fly without trapezes?"

Gene leveled sober eyes on her. "No. Without nets."

Joanna looked at Otto, who appeared indifferent to the suggestion, then at Gene. Certainly he wasn't serious? They'd agreed never to drop the nets. Seeing the determination on Gene's face, she felt a nagging uneasiness. "You're talking like a fool. Even if I were to agree, which I won't, you know that one out of every twenty passes sends you to the net."

"Gene's a gambler," Otto said, smiling at his younger brother. "He'll gamble the twentieth pass won't come during a performance when the nets are down."

Gene looked at Otto. "I'm willing to chance the odds."

 
"Well, I'm not." Joanna turned to Otto. "Talk sense into him. He's your brother."

Otto shrugged. "He may be right. Your double somersault's routine now, and Gene's in better form than he's ever been."

 
Uneasy with the mind-set of both men, Joanna propped her hands on her hips, and said, "We've never considered working without nets and I don't want any part of it."

Otto patted her arm. "Don't worry. Our next performance will be with nets, as usual."

"As usual?" Gene arched a brow. "Except we'll just be one of many secondary acts that follow the gypsy king
and his damn cats!"

"Calm down and let's check ropes," Otto said, "or we won't be flying at all."

While Gene and Otto checked the rigging, Joanna headed for her dressing wagon. But when she saw Karl standing between her and her destination, she cut through the tent housing the menagerie to avoid him. As she entered, a pall of odors hung like a heavy blanket: the musky odor of horses, the pungent stench of chimps, the sweet fragrance of fresh straw. But now, mingled with the familiar odors, was the heady scent of big cats. She walked down a corridor lined by cages. Behind heavy bars, tigers paced, ears back, faces twisted, teeth bared with snarls. Gooseflesh rose on her arms as she became aware, for the first time, of the immense size and power of the restless animals behind the bars.

She paused by a small cage in which a tiger cub lay curled in the straw, playing with its tail. Seeing Joanna, the cub sat, stared at her with wide amber eyes, and ambled over to poke its muzzle between the bars. Joanna curled her fingers through the bars and tickled him under the chin. "You cute little thing," she cooed, captivated by the furry cub, who was clearly enjoying the attention. "Why, you are positively the cutest little creature I have ever seen," she said in a sing-song voice as she stroked the cub's soft muzzle...

"People place too high a value on cuteness," a deep voice startled her, "a superficial trait that should not be praised in man or beast unless accompanied by character."

Joanna turned and looked into a pair of compelling green eyes that held an air of romantic mystery, heavy-lidded eyes that spoke to her of warm caresses and forbidden pleasures. Her pulse quickened. She was unprepared for the shock of sensuality that emanated from the man. Her gaze moved down the straight line of his nose to rest on his lips, lips that held their own hidden promise. "You imply that your cub is without character," she said. Without warning, the cub nipped her hand, and she jerked it away.

Stefan Janacek took her hand and looked where the cub had nipped. "There's nothing with less character than a spoiled cub, and nothing harder to train," he said. "If he's not stroked on demand—" his thumb idly stroked the top of her hand "—he pouts like an obstinate child."

Joanna twisted her hand from his grip. "Certainly a spoiled cub is no challenge for the king of the gypsies," she parried.

His eyes sharpened. "It's hard enough to convince a playful cub that man is to be feared," he arched a dark brow, "or woman, as the case may be."

"And you resent the women who visit your precious menagerie?" Joanna clipped.

His gaze unwavering, Stefan Janacek said in a sober voice, "I resent anyone who spoils my cubs. When a cub strikes, and the hand's withdrawn, the cub learns quickly that he can bluff."

"And the king of the gypsies will not be bluffed," Joanna quipped.

An ironic smile tugged at his lips. "Try me."

Joanna looked at the man. He was so sure of himself, so incredibly arrogant. There was even something arrogant about the way his unruly black hair did as it pleased. It wasn't difficult to understand why this cocky cur of a man would appeal to a weasel like Karl Porter.

Annoyed that she had no clever comeback, she turned and stalked out of the menagerie, her heart tripping a staccato beat, tension curling inside like a tight spring. She couldn't explain her intense reaction to the man, or her bizarre desire to press her palm against his broad chest and feel the muscular strength she knew would be there. All she knew was, Stefan Janacek was a dangerous man to be around.

***

Tekla de Josefoski Janacek clamped her small pipe between her teeth and drew on it. A golden sheen lit her face and shone in her dark eyes, and a plume of blue smoke curled toward the arched ceiling of her wagon. She looked across the gold-trimmed tea set at her grandson. "You tell this Karl Porter I not tolerate wagon at far end of grounds with garbage wagon," she said. "Because we Romany and he
gorgio
he think he can do so."

Stefan looked at the matriarch of the family. A small woman with a face lined by years of wind and weather, she wore her peppery hair coiled at her neck, and from her ears dangled great gold loops. "I'll talk to him, Mamio," he said.

 
Bracelets jingling with her wagging finger, Tekla said, "You not make good bargain. You need Rom wife to make bargain with
gorgio
. I always make bargain for your papa since he marry
gorgio
." She set the pipe on a carved wooden pipe stand. "You also tell this
gorgio
that Kitta need new costume or she be juggling more than juggling pins."

Stefan chuckled at his grandmother's reference to his sister's ample bosom. It seemed all gypsy women had large breasts. He'd become aware of that at an early age, deciding it was because the Romany had so many children that they needed huge breasts to feed them all. But gorgio women had small breasts that could fit in a man's hand.

The door swept open and Stefan's mother stepped inside. Helen Janacek nodded with respect to her mother-in-law, then addressed Stephen. "Walter said Rafat turned on you again. Why do you keep that cat when you know how unpredictable he is?"

Stefan looked at his mother, a
gorgio
, aware of how much younger she appeared than the
romni
, with her fair skin and ash-brown hair. Noting the line of disapproval to her lips, he replied, "Rafat is intelligent and alert, one of those rare animals that comes once in a trainer's lifetime. He'll make a fine performer. He just needs more time."

"Your father also insisted that an unruly cat would be a fine performer," she said, "and you know what happened. You're being a fool."

"I'm being practical," Stefan replied. "Rafat cost too much for me to give up without trying. He's just not used to the other cats yet."

"He's been with them six months! You've never had such an unpredictable animal. Have you already forgotten that he almost stripped you of your masculinity!"

Stefan offered his mother an ironic smile. "Rafat and I have an understanding now. He leaves me intact and I leave him intact. Besides, Tony is always nearby."

"I don't like that Tony," Tekla interceded. "Not good for Rom to have
gorgio
assistant. Your papa also have
gorgio
assistant and you see what happen."

Stefan looked at his mother. Although her face was impassive, he knew she'd taken to heart her mother-in-law's pointed statement. The fact was, Helen Janacek, a non-gypsy, was tolerated, but would never be accepted by the mother of her dead husband.

Stefan glanced through the window and saw the women he'd met in the menagerie earlier. She was a feisty chit. Most women when chastised at the cub's cage moved on. This one had not. She had spirit. He liked that in a woman. She was with two men, and they seemed to be having an argument. As he stared at her, she looked up and caught him watching. She held his gaze for a few moments then returned to her discussion with the men.

Stefan
!" his grandmother's voice startled him. "You forget
gorgio
woman. She no good for you. You find nice
romni
."

Stefan gave his grandmother a black-hearted smile. "You know what they say about forbidden fruit just out of reach. It's always sweeter, and more desired."

"You see what happened to Josef with
gorgio
wife. He living in house like trapped animal. Is bad luck for Rom to settle... to stop moving."

Stefan considered his brother, Josef, who lived in Birmingham with his
gorgio
wife. Josef dared do the unthinkable as far as their grandmother was concerned. "If Josef is caged, he doesn't know it," he said. "He and Barbara seem very happy." His gaze returned to the woman. The sight of her shapely feminine curves when wearing tights earlier had caught his notice. Yet, she seemed even more desirable in the indigo tailor-made she was wearing, with its tight-fitting jersey bodice that hugged her trim breasts and pinched in at her small waist. She twirled a matching parasol against her shoulder as she stood with the men, and even though she looked disturbed about whatever they were discussing, her hand moved gracefully as she spoke.