Taming Her Gypsy Lover Read Online Free PDF Page B

But I would not want to be forced to return to my cruel gadjo lover because I wasted what I took away with me when I ran.” She gave a defiant toss of her head, as though she could reject her past and put it behind her with a single gesture.
    The girl nodded in approval at this, and Chal worked to hide his amazement. If he had taught her, Emma could not have found a better way to respond. And she had used the only word of the language that she knew.
    He removed the buttons and the girl gestured to a nearby tent, and Emma went with her without question. When she returned a short time later, she was properly attired in a plain blue gown and sensible shoes. Her beautiful hair was tied back and out of her face, and the simple dressing of it accented the perfect skin, and the elegant length of her neck. A second dress was draped over her arm.
    Chal saw the admiring glances of the other Rom men as she left the tent, and felt sudden jealousy.
    It was an emotion that he had no right to, no matter what she had said the night before, when she’d claimed to be his. She had said those words during their lovemaking. He wondered if she remembered, or if she’d meant them as anything other than idle talk in the throes of passion.
    He had believed them, because he had wanted to. And the strength of his body’s response had left him near mindless.
    But now what was he to do with her?
    The answer was obvious. They would travel together as far as Yorkshire, and he would take what pleasure he could from her on the way. Then she would go wherever it was she meant to go. And he would forget her. That was what she truly wanted, and what he had planned from the first.
    But he should know by now that such plans for an orderly future were rarely successful. He had planned to be a married man, with a family. And nothing had come of that. Now that he had met Emma Hammond, his plan to be content alone was ruined as well.
    But what would happen would happen. They would search for the boy, and find what they could. And then she would be gone, either back to Burton, or to some other man of her race and class. She would forget Chal. And he would be alone again.
     
    Emma looked around her at the busy camp, listening to the hum of conversations in a language she did not understand. Chal had pulled the little wagon close and was removing rolls of oilcloth and hazel tent poles from it. He handed her a broom to sweep the debris from a flat area under a tree.
    She did as he bade her. And then she stood by, waiting for instructions as he unrolled the oilcloth upon the ground. He walked around its edges, pounding holes into the earth with a cast-iron spike, then pushed a pole into one of them, teaching her to steady it as he bent it, forced it through the center spine, and pushed the other end into a hole he’d made in the other side. Soon, they stood inside a hazel skeleton, and he went back to the wagon for more oilcloths, tossing them one by one onto the frame and pinning them in place with thorns.
    He gestured her inside.
    It was gloomy, but surprisingly snug. She turned to him and smiled.
    “You have never seen a tent, I wager, nor slept inside one.”
    She shook her head.
    He grinned back. “I have lanterns, a cot, blankets and a feather bed. It can be quite as comfortable as you wish to make it. Many women have some small furniture, and decoration. Flowers.” He looked away for a moment, as though thinking of something else. “If you feel a lack, while we are together, tell me. I will do what I can to make you comfortable.”
    The offer was casual, as though he intended to blunt its meaning. But he was offering her the hospitality of his home, and the chance to make it hers. When his gaze shifted back to her, she asked, “And you set the thing up yourself, wherever you go?”
    He shrugged. “Sometimes. It is easier with two, of course. And now that I am alone…” He shrugged again, and busied himself with the bedding.
    “But you were not before,