The Untamable Rogue Page 9

  *

  Grandmother Aneta was lying on her bed as I barged into the waggon. The old woman had her blind eyes closed and the curtain that divided the healing woman’s sleeping area from the rest of the waggon was half open. I lay down on my own bed and closed my colourfully embroidered curtain. Suppressing my sobbing with difficulty, I lay curled up on my side and cried hot tears. I could not explain my pain to myself, could not understand why I longed for him with every fibre in my body. He had nearly dishonoured me without taking into consideration the fact that my future would have been ruined. I should hate him, curse his black soul, but instead of that I wanted him to do unutterable things to me: things that a young woman from a good background should not even think about.

  “Valuable things are born of blood and pain.” Grandmother Aneta’s voice was suddenly heard to say.

  I sniffed quietly. Whatever did the old woman mean by that? I did not dare ask, so I remained silent.

  Chapter 15

  Blinded by tears, Jelonka ran through the forest until her sides hurt and she had to stop, gasping for air. Still sobbing, she sat down on a boulder, overgrown with moss and lichen. Gradually her wildly pounding heart calmed down and the stream of tears almost stopped. She breathed in deeply and wiped the salty wetness from her eyes and off her cheeks. The initial pain was replaced by a dull sense of hopelessness. She knew exactly what had just happened: Ivo was in love with this little madam. After this colourless creature had turned away, Ivo had roughly pushed Jelonka away from him.

  “What’s this nonsense about!” he had snapped at her and turned away from her angrily, then he had looked down at herand the expression on his face had spoken volumes. It was this stranger that he longed for, not Jelonka. He would never take her as his wife – Jelonka was now painfully aware of this. That made her situation complicated – hopeless!

  The snapping of branches made her look around. Her face smiled painfully when she saw Sergio coming towards her.

  Sergio sat down next to her on the stone and looked at her with concern. Even when they were children he had always been the one who had consoled her when she had hurt herself or if someone had made her angry.

  “Is everything OK with you?” he asked sympathetically.

  Jelonka sighed and remained silent. She did not know how to explain her sadness in words.

  “I saw you run away and I was worried,” Sergio probed again.

  Jelonka started to cry again. Sergio took her in his arms to console her and cradled her like a small child.

  “There, there. It can’t be that bad, can it?”

  “It is!” sobbed Jelonka. “It is … it’s hopeless!”

  “Has it got something to do with my wretched brother?” Sergio asked.

  Jelonka nodded, distressed.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” asked Sergio empathetically.

  Jelonka breathed in deeply a few times and cleared her throat before she blurted out: “I … I’m pregnant!”

  “By Ivo?” asked Sergio, visibly horrified.

  “Yes.”

  “And … what does he have to say about this?” asked Sergio.

  “He doesn’t know,” stated the Jelonka.

  “Why aren’t you telling him? If he’s the father then he must carry the responsibility.”

  He looked searchingly at Jelonka.

  “Or don’t you want him any longer? – I mean, I could understand that. Ivo is not exactly the sort of man that one can imagine as a faithfully caring father and husband.”

  “I thought – I wanted him – but now …” Jelonka’s voice sounded despairing.

  “So what’s happened?”

  “He won’t love me. He …”

  “Ivo doesn’t love anyone. He’s …”

  “No!” interrupted Jelonka. “It’s not that. He – I think he loves the fair-haired girl, this …”

  “Liz?” blurted Sergio in disbelief.

  Jelonka nodded.

  “Yes, I mean her,” she said and looked hard at Sergio. “Why are you so horrified by that? Do you love her, too?”

  Sergio had become pale. He did not appear to be listening to her any more.

  “… what’s wrong? Is something wrong?” Jelonka’s voice finally got through to him.

  “It … it’s OK,” Sergio tried to assure her, unconvincingly.

  “So you love her, too!” stated Jelonka dryly. It was unbelievable that all the men that meant something to her had suddenly fallen in love with a stranger: a woman that was unattainable for any Sinti, who came from a completely different world.

  “Well, yes, I’ve fallen in love with her – yes. – It looks as if we both have the same problem. I love Liz. You love Ivo. – And those two …”

  For a while they were both silent, then Sergio took Jelonka’s hand and raised it to his lips, kissing it gently.

  “It’s best if we sleep on it for a few nights, then talk again and see what we should do. What do you think about that?” he suggested.

  Jelonka was still deeply hurt but she then realised that rational action was needed and in this condition, controlled by her emotions, she was not in a position to act. A plan was needed. A plan that would definitely work!

  “Under no circumstances should we talk to the two of them about it now. You’re right, we’ll sleep on it for a few days. With a bit of distance one can see some things more clearly. It has done me a lot of good talking to you. I can’t believe that you and Ivo … that you’re brothers. You are so nice and … oh, I’m saying stupid things!”

  “Thank you!”

  Jelonka looked at Sergio, clueless.

  “What for?”

  “For thinking that I’m nice. I like you, too. Our chat has helped me, too. – Come on! Let’s go back, it’s getting dark.”

  Chapter 16

  It was three days now since Ivo had returned to the camp and after the initial unrest, life on the camp had resumed its usual course. I was visited by bewildering dreams. Every morning I awoke exhausted, and although I could only vaguely remember the dreams I knew that they were all about Ivo. During the day I carried out my tasks routinely but without any pleasure. I was conscious that Grandmother Aneta knew what had gone on between me and Ivo and although the old woman was completely blind I felt as though I was being watched by her. The old gypsy had her own way of seeing even without her eyesight. I desperately needed to get out of the camp otherwise I would go mad. Murmuring a few words of apology I put down my embroidery, on which I was just working and left the waggon.

  When I had left the camp behind me I breathed a sigh of relief. It was a pleasantly warm day and the birds were singing their most beautiful songs, accompanied by the humming of insects hovering from flower to flower. I followed a half-overgrown path that Grandmother Aneta had shown me. One had to be careful in places not to get caught in the thorns of the blackberry and raspberry bushes. The sweet scent of nectar hung heavily in the warm summer air and I breathed in deeply. I noticed that I was practically running and I slowed my hasty walk. My heartbeat gradually calmed down and I breathed in the beautiful landscape. The path ended and I crossed a meadow and a small stream and went along it for a while. When I got to an old willow I decided to rest and sat down under the old tree, leaning against the trunk. I watched the gurgling water. The sun threw silver reflections onto the surface and now and then I spotted the slim form of a fish swimming passed. The water splashed invitingly and I wanted to dip in a little.

  I took off my shoes and tied my skirts up high then I waded into the crystal clear water. It was ice-cold and I squealed quietly, but I found it beautiful and hopped contentedly like a small child from stone to stone. It had been a long time since I had felt so free and unencumbered. I almost forgot everything around me, but suddenly had the feeling that I was being watched. I looked up and froze. Ivo was standing on the bank, staring at me with his unfathomable gaze. His hair was ruffled and his shirt was open. He was unshaven and he looked like a rogue – a damned attrac
tive rogue. My heart leapt into my mouth and I swayed slightly so that I nearly slid off the slippery stone that I was standing on. I just managed to steady myself and jumped onto the bank. Ivo was still standing on the other side of the stream and his expression did not show what he was thinking. I felt myself becoming hot and my bodice suddenly felt too tight for me. Part of me wanted to run away – a long way from this bewildering man – and the other part of me longed to feel his hands again, his lips …

  Suddenly he leapt across the water to me and I screamed in shock. I had hesitated too long. Hastily I turned and ran away. Not used to running barefoot, every twig and stone under the sole of my feet hurt, but I forced myself to keep on running. I could hear him behind me. He was bound to catch up with me. Like a deer in flight I jumped over fallen tree trunks, holding onto my skirts, tied up for paddling, so that they did not come undone and hold me back or even make me stumble. I knew without turning round that he was immediately behind me and I uttered a quiet scream. Finally he was directly behind me and grabbed me. Again I screamed in shock. He did not get a proper hold on me and I darted sideways to shake him off, but at his next attempt he took me by the arm and pulled my round so that I banged hard against him.

  “Help!” I screamed loudly and twisted and turned under his grip, but he threw his arms around me and held me so tightly that I could barely move.

  He laughed devilishly and I spat into his face, but it appeared to make no impression on him.

  “A proper little wild thing, you are,” he murmured, laughing. “My little wild mare. I’ll soon tame you.”

  “Let me go immediately! You … you filthy bastard! You miserable sex fiend! You stinking barbarian!”

  My little tirade of insults made him roar with laughter. He looked stunning when he laughed. But I warned myself to think about what a devil he was. With this malicious attack he was displaying his true self.

  For a while I kept on struggling, then my strength left me and my resistance waned. My heart was pounding so violently that I was almost afraid that it would burst. He had stopped laughing. His ardent look released a scorching heat in my body. Droplets of sweat collected upon by brow and my hair was clinging in damp strands to my face, but I could not push them away because he was still holding onto me tightly. I could feel his fast, strong heartbeat against my chest. Slowly Ivo went down on his knees and forced me to do the same. Neither of us said a word, only our gasping breath could be heard as we wrestled on the ground. He managed to undo the cord on my skirt and, despite me fighting against it forcefully, he tied my wrists above my head with it and slung the cord around the trunk of a young beech tree. I pulled at the cord but it was so tightly bound that I could no longer free myself.

  “No! – Untie me! – Heelllp!”

  “Go ahead and cry. No one’s going to hear you here,” he said.

  Breathless from the struggle, he sat back on his knees and looked at me. His eyes were like two pieces of black coal. My eyes fell upon the throbbing pulse in his neck. His intention was written clearly in his face and I began to pull at my fetters.

  “Please don’t,” I just about managed to say, my voice weak.

  Tears ran over my cheeks and a shiver ran through my body. Fear and excitement fought in my heart and I felt completely at his mercy: on the one hand my body was beginning to tingle at the very thought of his kisses and caresses; on the other hand the intensity of my emotions filled me with fear. He had the upper hand, the power.

  “Please let me go! Please – not like this …” I begged again.

  Ivo shook his head.

  “No! I don’t know what you’re doing to me, you witch, but I can’t leave you alone,” he snarled sinisterly.

  I pulled again and again at the cord but it would not move. There was no escape and even if I did manage to release the ties, I still would not escape from him. I was desperate!

  I looked at the man who sat astride me. He looked to me like a dark angel of revenge, devilishly beautiful and – unimaginably cruel. In his black eyes a dangerous fire was blazing and his sweaty, tangled hair made him look even wilder. His lips were fixed in determination – he seemed to be having difficulty controlling himself. My pulse was racing and my blood was rushing in my ears so that I felt faint. I had to close my eyes, and the tight bodice was doing its best to stop me breathing. As if he realised my problem he leant forward and put his hands under my body to untie the lacing. Almost relieved I took a deep breath without realising how seductively my bosom then rose. I heard him quietly murmur then I felt his hands on the lacing at the front of my blouse. I wanted to protest, to stop him, but instead I sighed quietly as his hands lay my breasts bare and a light, pleasant, refreshing breeze brushed over my heated flesh. Goose bumps appeared and immediately my nipples hardened. A sweet, aching pain shot into my breasts and continued right down to my sex, making my body quiver.

  With apparent pleasure Ivo registered this sign of desire and rubbed my stiff nipples with his thumb, watching my face whilst doing so. Slowly he moved one hand down my neck and circled my breasts, then went further, to my bodice, which he pulled down with an impatient tug. My stomach was flat and without blemish – completely absorbed, he brushed around my navel, then back up my side to my sensitive shoulders. I shuddered. A gasping sound left my half open lips and he closed my mouth with a possessive kiss. Hungrily he pushed his tongue between my lips. I swayed between fear, shame and arousal, as I lay beneath him, semi-naked and helpless. His wildness shocked and aroused me in equal measure. Adrenalin rushed through my veins – one shudder followed the next. I knew that I should never give myself to him. My bad conscience called out to me to tell him to stop. But then another voice said that I could not hold him off, especially as I was tied up. Was it not senseless to fight against it?

  “Please don’t!” I gasped again, but this time only half-heartedly.

  “But you want it as much as I do!” he murmured.

  “Why are you doing this?” I asked, my voiced stifled.

  “Because I want to!” he said simply and kissed me again.

  I sobbed helplessly. The hot tears ran over my face. Why did he always have to treat me so condescendingly? I felt humiliated and yet longed for him to carry on.

  Suddenly he got off me, swore quietly and jumped up. He looked down at me intensely and I felt naked and at his mercy. Without warning he pulled a knife from his bag and I screamed in fear.

  “Keep quiet! I’m not going to hurt you!” he snapped at me, and he knelt down next to me to cut the ties. Then he put the knife away, got up and ran away.

  Chapter 17

  4th August 1888

  James Atkins slammed the study door shut – he was incensed. The search had been unsuccessful. It was as if his unmanageable ward had been swallowed up by the ground. No one had seen her. She had apparently not gone into any inn – he had checked in all of them within a fifty mile radius.

  If she were not to reappear then he would inherit the estate, which would suit him very nicely, but it would cost time and there were a lot of legal clauses which were intended to protect his niece’s rights. Moreover he had a feeling that she would reappear – when she was of age.

  He swore loudly. Times were not as they used to be. These days women even wanted to have the right to vote. May God forbid that it ever comes to that. Did not God himself decree that woman is inferior to man? Was it not written by Paul in the Letters to the Corinthians that women should remain silent? He held no regard for this new freethinking of women. And every man should have his wife and his daughters, as well as his female servants, so firmly in his grasp that they never partake in such nonsense, and definitely do not petition for a strike like these women recently in the match factory. The fact that his very own ward had now upped and gone! Previously no woman would have dared do such a thing! “Such a God-damned piece of shit! This bitch! The daughter of a whore!”

  Enraged, he swept books and pen-holders from the desk. He was going wild, but none of that
brought him any satisfaction. If he could only get hold of her, then …

  There was a timid knock at the door.

  “Yes!” roared James Atkins.

  The door opened and one of the maids peeked fearfully into the room.

  “Sir? A Mr Davidsson has arrived downstairs. Should I tell him that you are busy?”

  “No! No, tell him that I’m coming right away,” Atkins ushered her away, shaking his head crossly.

  “Of course, sir, as you wish!” said the maid, relieved that the master of the house seemed to have calmed down a little. She disappeared, closing the door.

  *

  Mr Davidsson was of Swedish descent; a man in his fifties; small and with his thin legs, which were in stark contrast to his barrel-shaped stomach, he made a grotesque figure. He was wearing a worn, dark grey frock-coat with olive-green trousers and he was holding a somewhat damaged top hat that he was nervously turning in his hands when James Atkins entered the drawing room. His reddened face with his bushy, white eyebrows displayed a nervous smile that bared a row of brown, discoloured teeth.

  “G-good day s-sir, I hope this is n-not an incon- inconvenient time f-for you,” he greeted Atkins, tensing his shoulders to lend his pitiful appearance more worth.

  James Atkins snorted sullenly, ignored the hand stretched out in greeting and sat down in an armchair.

  “It’s a damned long way from London to here,” he said, instead of a greeting.

  “M-my clients felt that it was n-necessary that I v-visit you here. In consideration of the s-sum for which you are in debt to Blake and Partner, my travelling expenses are small.” He cleared his throat and continued: “I a-am to inform you that you m-may count on m-much m-more unpleasant vis-visitors if you cannot pay at lea-least forty p-percent of the s-sum.”

  With great difficulty James Atkins suppressed his anger. Most of all he wanted to strangle this miserable little man. He put on a false smile that did not reach his eyes.