The Untamable Rogue Page 8

  I nodded silently. I had a lump in my throat and my stomach rumbled. I was to undress? Here? In front of him?

  Ivo passed me a heavy woollen blanket and then, to my relief, he turned away, looking for something in the chest. Hastily I set about removing my clothes, which was in fact not at all easy: the wet material clung to me like a second skin. I almost tore a sleeve but I finally managed it, with some difficulty, and put the woollen blanket around me, trembling. Now that I was no longer in Ivo’s warming embrace I was freezing miserably. The stove was only spreading its heat slowly.

  In the meantime, outside, a real storm was brewing. The wind was howling and shaking the shutters, and it had grown dark. Glancing out of the window I saw that the sky was nearly black and it was raining so violently that I could barely make out the trees standing right next to the waggon. I was glad that Ivo had found me. If I imagined still being out there in this awful weather – that did not bear thinking about. Ivo came back with a container of ointment and a few strips of linen. He knelt down in front of me and began to take off my shoe and wash mud and leaves from my foot. The warm water and Ivo’s unusually gentle touch did me good and I wished that he would give this same attention to my whole body. I was immediately ashamed of my thoughts. It was simply unthinkable that he …

  I bit on my lip so as not to groan when Ivo finally also bared the second, uninjured foot and began, likewise, to wash it. I looked down at his black locks. How much I would have liked to dig my fingers into his hair and pull him up to me. I wanted to kiss him, to taste his pungent wildness and give myself over to him, body and soul. His kisses had shocked me beyond measure. At the same time they had ignited a huge yearning within me. This glow was only smouldering right now, but I knew that just one more kiss from Ivo could ignite a fire that would possibly be unstoppable.

  After Ivo had washed my feet he rubbed the injured ankle an ointment from the container and bound it with the linen strips. Wistfully I waited for the moment at which he would be finished with the treatment and would then certainly get rid of me. I did not want it to stop. I would have loved to have injured more parts of my body, if he would only carry on touching me in that way. Even Ivo seemed to be putting off the moment. He was still holding my foot in his hands after he had already knotted the last strips of material. The air in the narrow waggon suddenly seemed to be unbearably hot and I would have really liked to have thrown the blanket off me. When he suddenly raised his eyes he looked at me intensely and I blushed. Of course he only had to look at me to see the state I was in. I had never been any good at hiding my feelings which was why I was also a terrible lier.

  Slowly, not taking his eyes off me, he stroked my legs, moving his hand up them. I trembled and almost imperceptibly opened my legs. I was still wearing my underwear which clung damply to my skin that was now very hot. Gradually the blanket slipped from my shoulders. He leant forward to kiss me on one of my bare shoulders and then his lips moved up my neck.

  I could no longer suppress a groan. Hot lava streams flowed through my body and made my blood heat. Involuntarily I pushed my upper body against his hot mouth. My hands were clutching the edges of the chair.

  “Ow!” I shouted, as I became aware of the splinter in my hand – the splinter that I had picked up when taking shoots off my walking stick.

  “What is it?”

  “I’ve got a splinter,” I explained and held my hand out to him. Ivo took my hand in his and looked at the splinter.

  “We’ll have that straight out,” he said and took the splinter in his finger nails. One brief tug and the splinter was out. Ivo gently kissed the spot where the splinter had left a small red mark, just as a mother would do with her child.

  “Better?” His voice sounded husky.

  I nodded, overcome by the intimacy of the moment, as Ivo caressed my hand and my fingers with his lips and his tongue. I closed my eyes, groaning. Then he kissed me until I began to move about restlessly on the chair. My body was aflame and my hands were, by now, around his neck. The sound of tearing material, as he tore at my shirt, made me start. The magic spell was broken.

  I tore myself away from him, breathing heavily and confused. Whatever was wrong with me? I had nearly given myself over to this wild person, this gypsy. How could I have let it come this far?

  “I … I can't … you, you must understand, I … I mean …” I desperately sought the right words. I was hardly capable of thinking clearly.

  Ivo’s expression hardened. His dark eyes flashed dangerously. “I understand!” he snarled.

  He got up and sorted out his clothing.

  “I’m going get someone to take you to the camp now. It’s probably best if you put on some clothes,” he said, his voice cold.

  Chapter 12

  Ivo stomped through the mud. The cold rain soaked him through to the skin within a few minutes, but he did not notice. The cold and damp could not come close to cooling his heated disposition. He did not want to admit that the rejection by the blond innocent girl had deeply hurt him. He should have known that someone like her would never get involved with someone like him. For so long he had avoided investing feeling in a woman, and then along came this blond innocent and threw all of his reason overboard – just to be disappointed and hurt again. Swearing, Ivo hit a branch that hung in his way. He was angry and confused; angry with this aristocratic woman; angry with all women; and angry with himself. It was best for him to keep his hands off her in future. He will have already shocked her enough with his conduct. She was probably crying in his waggon now. He suppressed the rising guilt and summoned forth his old anger against women. He had to focus on that! Women were conniving, false creatures. Even if this bloodless little lady did want to act so innocently, she was still just a woman! He had learnt his bitter lesson and would not again make the mistake of giving away his heart.

  The camp came into sight and Ivo slowed down. He was still in the shelter of the forest, so no one would be able to see him from the camp. A few children were playing in the puddles at the edge of the camp, under the overhanging trees. Ivo drew attention to himself with a quiet whistle and the children stopped playing. One of the boys came a few steps towards him.

  “Tell my mother that she should come here!”

  The boy nodded and ran away. The other children went back to their game. Ivo walked up and down impatiently under the trees.

  After a while the boy finally came back with Ivo’s mother. After the boy had joined his friends again, Jelana nodded to her son and walked passed him. Ivo followed her. Jelana did not speak until they were some distance from the camp.

  “What are you doing here? You know that you are meant to stay away from the camp!” she hissed at him.

  “Yes, I know! – And I wouldn’t have come if it weren’t important,” replied Ivo, irritated.

  Jelana stood still and looked closely at her son.

  “So, what’s happened?” she asked with a sigh.

  “This little one, Liz, is at my place. She injured her foot and can’t walk. I found her in the forest. Someone needs to bring her into the camp.”

  Jelana nodded. She seemed to be able to see right into his soul. Her look told him that she was fully in the picture about what had happened between him and the little one.

  “OK, I’ll send a few men over,” said Jelana and looked into her son’s face.

  Ivo felt very uncomfortable under the scrutiny of his mother. She did not only possess special powers – she was also a good judge of human nature – and she knew her son only too well.

  “OK. I’ll go back to the camp now and drum up a few people,” said Jelana at last, and she turned away.

  Chapter 13

  17th July 1888

  Ilay there with my eyes closed and listened to the sounds of life on the camp that came into the waggon through the little window. Around this time the camp was like a bee hive: it was so full of pulsating life, completely different from our tranquil country estate. It could be compared better with
the buzz of activity on London’s streets. I had actually only spent a little time in London. Mother did not like the smog, so I usually stayed at home with her at Blue Hall. It had already been a long time since I had accompanied my father to London. The thought of that made the wounds in my heart re-open. My eyes filled with tears. I had again reached the point where I considered my life to be one single disaster: my beloved parents were dead; my guardian wanted to force me into marriage with him; and I had fallen in love with a wild gypsy. My heart began to race and my breath came heavily as I realised this fact. Yes, it was true. I had fallen in love with the wild and reckless Sinti. He had managed to do what no other man had succeeded in doing: my heart burst with excitement whenever I saw him; with every fibre my body longed for his caress and his kisses. I sighed and rolled onto my side with a vigorous movement. In so doing my injured foot knocked the bed frame and a sharp pain shot right through me. Whilst pondering I had nearly forgotten my injury.

  Since I had been brought back to the camp numerous people had come to see me to wish me well. About two hours earlier Grandmother Aneta had dismissed the last visitors forcefully from the waggon. Soon after she had also left, leaving me alone, which had suited me. The old woman seemed to know exactly what had happened between me and Ivo. She was only blind in her eyes – with her heart she could see better than anyone.

  The worst thing was the visit from Sergio. I had not been able to look him in the eye – not after everything that had happened between me and his brother. Sergio had been truly worried about me and with his limitless good-nature it had apparently not occurred to him that I might have allowed his brother any liberties. He seemed to consider me to be an immaculate angel, a girl with a faultless character, and I was ashamed that I had nearly surrendered my innocence – specifically to a man who would not even have appreciated this valuable gift. I did not even understand myself any more. There was actually nothing that could be deemed attractive about Ivo. Apart from his good looks, he only possessed bad features. He was presumptuous, self-righteous, egotistical, inconsiderate, brutal… – exciting, overwhelming … ‘Elizabeth Graham, you’ve lost your mind!’– I rebuked myself.

  It was of no use trying to pretend. My emotions could only cause me trouble and suffering. Ivo was probably, of all the men in this country, the least likely to make me happy. He was not a man for a committed relationship – not a man with whom one could create a family in the way that I had dreamt about. This was quite apart from the fact that he was well below my class. Men did sometimes marry below their class, but such a marriage would inevitably mean the downfall of a young woman like me. I would be ruined – socially finished. I belonged in the upper middle class and even a husband from the lower middle class would practically mean social ruin – but a gypsy …! That was still lower than the working class! Unthinkable!

  There was a knock at the door and a few seconds later Jelana came into the waggon. She looked absolutely amazing, as always. One could not tell from looking at her that she had two adult sons. She had, like her mother, the gift of seeing a great deal. Even if her power was not as pronounced as with Grandmother Aneta, it was still enough give me an uncomfortable feeling every time I was with her. The fact that she was the mother of the man who was constantly on my mind did not make it any easier.

  “Hello! I wanted to see how you were,” said Jelana and sat down, uninvited, next to my bed. “How are you? Is everything OK?”

  I blushed a little under Jelana’s scrutiny. She knew, too. I was absolutely sure about that. Her look seemed to penetrate right into my soul.

  “Thank you. I’m fine,” I answered nervously, and I tried to sit up. Immediately a stabbing pain shot through my ankle and I grimaced in pain.

  “If you rest your foot for a few days you’ll be fine again soon,” said Jelana “It’s lucky that you didn’t catch cold. You were completely soaked. If Ivo hadn’t found you in time you could have had a lung infection.”

  I flinched at the mention of Ivo’s name. Jelana’s alert eyes will not have missed this reaction and I blushed.

  “I hope my son conducted himself appropriately towards you?” The words sounded incidental, but the searching look of the experienced woman spoke volumes. She sensed something and she could not be deceived.

  I blushed again and avoided Jelana’s gaze, ashamed.

  “Yes … hm … I’m really … grateful, that he … rescued me,” I stammered, as I broke out in a sweat. I felt as transparent as if I were made of glass. I felt damned uncomfortable in the presence of the Sinti woman. I knew that all gypsies possessed a deep intuition and Ivo’s mother was, in addition, a very intelligent and experienced woman. To try to pretend to her seemed to be pointless.

  “If you ever need a good friend to talk to you can come to me at any time,” offered Jelana.

  “Th-thank you,” I stammered, confused. I wished that Ivo’s mother would finally go. At least I now knew where Ivo had got his ability to make me nervous. His mother had a similar effect on me, although, of course, the desire that I felt for Ivo was missing.

  As if Jelana had really read my secret thoughts she got up and gave me a friendly smile.

  “Now I don’t wish to tire you any longer. First have a really good sleep and you’ll see that you’ll then feel much better.”

  Chapter 14

  3rd August 1888

  Life on the camp had already become such a part of me that my old life moved into the back of my mind more and more. By now most members of the clan treated me as one of their people and Grandmother Aneta taught me more and more about herbs and healing methods. I regarded, very highly, the old lady who possessed a sharp understanding.

  “Stretch out your hand, child,” said the old gypsy.

  She had opened a bottle in which she had, with my help, put the comfrey roots in brandy. The liquid had become almost black and was emitting an aromatic smell as Grandmother Aneta waved the bottle around.

  I did as she said and stretched out my hand. Grandmother Aneta poured some of the liquid into the palm of my hand.

  “Tell me what that feels like?”

  I looked at the old woman a little puzzled. I had no idea what she was expecting. I knew, however, that the old woman never did or said anything without a reason.

  “Rub it in and then tell me what the tincture feels like!”

  I rubbed the liquid between my hands as the old woman had told me to do. So that I could concentrate better I had closed my eyes. The aromatic smell and the evaporating alcohol filled my nostrils.

  “And?” probed Grandmother Aneta.

  “It feels … somehow oily,” I said.

  The old woman roared in agreement.

  “And? Carry on!”

  “Hm, cool – but no, now it’s getting warm.” I opened my eyes again and looked with interest at Grandmother Aneta. She was nodding and closing the bottle carefully.

  “Hm. The tincture increases the circulation. That’s why it’s good to use on tired feet. That’s where one of its names comes from – boneset or knitbone, too. Some people also call it slippery-root,” she explained, and she put the bottle back in its place on the shelf.

  “You put it on my foot, too, didn’t you?”

  The old woman nodded again and was about to reply but then stopped and listened.

  “What is it?” I asked, and listened, too. There was nothing to be heard and precisely that was the strange thing. Children could not be heard, nor women chatting, nor men in discussion nor yapping dogs. Everything was absolutely silent. Goose bumps spread over my body.

  Grandmother Aneta did not reply, but a quiet smile spread over her face. She had the facial expression of a cat that had caught a mouse in a trap.

  “Go out, then you’ll see what it is,” was all that she said.

  By now I was used to the old lady knowing and noticing more than anyone else, so I did not carry on wondering, but left the waggon as she had told me to do. Outside I saw that everyone had stopped what they were
doing and were all looking in one direction. When my eyes met the destination of the numerous gazes my heart leapt – Ivo – he was returning. So had the month already passed? I had lost any sense of time since being with the Sintis. Spellbound and with trembling knees I watched him as he moved his waggon into position. Since the disastrous day when I had been tended to in his waggon I had not set eyes upon him. I had avoided going near his caravan so that I did not have to meet him – although a part of me, contrary to decency, was still yearning for this wild man.

  Suddenly Ivo raised his head and looked directly at me. Time seemed to stand still for several seconds and our looks melted together. My knees became weak and there were fluttering in my belly. Our movements were frozen, and the whole camp, too, seemed to hold its breath. Everything around me faded into the background and was no longer part of the world that only belonged to me and Ivo. I could hear my own heavy breathing and my heart was beating loudly in my chest. His gaze moved like a caress over me and the beginnings of a smile appeared on his face, taking a little of the sharpness from his angular features and causing a painful ache in my lower abdomen. With every single cell in my body I desired this man.

  The magic of this moment was destroyed abruptly as a picture-perfect young woman, about whom I only knew that she was called Jelonka, stepped into this intimate world and demanded Ivo’s attention. He turned to look at the young gypsy and I felt as if my heart had been torn out of my body. With tears in my eyes I watched as Jelonka threw herself around Ivo’s neck and kissed him passionately. How could I have been so stupid? For a moment I had had the naïve feeling that he would feel the way I felt. I had had the irrational feeling that he had returned home – to me! But of course it was a fantasy. This man was a lady-killer and I was a stupid, naïve girl. Sobbing, I tore myself away from the sight and hurried back into the waggon.