Brenda Joyce - A Dangerous Love

Gray eyes assailed her and she prayed her father would not guess at the subject of her musings. “I guess everyone is excited about Amanda’s ball.”

“Yes, they are, as it has been some time since there has been a lavish event at Rose Hill. Ariella, did you like Montgomery at all?”

She stiffened, incredulous. “I thought a match was Dianna’s idea.”

“It is. But she confided in her mother, who told me. You have no interest in him.” It was not a question.

“I am sorry, I do not.”

He sighed. “Ariella, when you were a small child, I worried about your future. At the time, I decided I would make certain to arrange the perfect marriage for you, when you came of age.”

Ariella was in disbelief. “I had no idea!”

He smiled. “That was a long time ago. I realized when you became an independent young woman, of whom I am so extremely proud, that I would do no such thing. In many ways, you remind me of myself before I met Amanda.”

Her relief knew no bounds. “Thank you. But Father, you were a privateer, not a bluestocking.”

“I treasured my freedom, darling, as you do. However, I believe that one day you will come to me with stars shining in your eyes. You will tell me you wish to wed—and that you are madly in love.”

Ariella smiled. “You do know that you are far more romantic than I am?”

Cliff laughed. “Am I?”

“I fear I am not like you, Father. My passion is for knowledge. I did try to explain earlier to Dianna that being unwed doesn’t bother me at all. I do not think about handsome men or moon over them like other women my age.” The moment she spoke, she quickly looked away, because she had been doing exactly that since meeting the Rom with the gray eyes.

“That’s only because you have not yet met the man who is unique enough to stir your interest.”

She continued hastily, afraid he might sense her distraction. “The men I meet are scholars and historians, and very few of them are noblemen.”

He laughed. “And if you bring me a radical lawyer without means, I will approve—as long as he loves you in return.”

Ariella did not reply. She had been thinking about Emilian throughout the evening, almost against her own will. There was something provocative and unsettling about him, although she couldn’t quite identify what disturbed her.

“It may take you some time to realize that your heart has been captured, but the day will come, I have no doubts. You are too beautiful and intriguing to escape love. And when you ask me for my blessing, I will be pleased to give it, no matter whom you have chosen.”

She smiled. “I hope you are not in the rush that Dianna seems to be in. I cannot settle, Father. I have no interest in a traditional marriage. Dianna should marry before I do.”

“I won’t allow you to settle for anything less than what you deserve.” Cliff kissed her cheek. “I will never rush you. Now, I fear I must leave you stargazing by yourself. Good night.”

Ariella watched him hurry upstairs. She became aware of an odd tension within her. Emilian’s gray eyes seemed to be engraved permanently in her thoughts. She hadn’t ever been so preoccupied with a man, not in her entire twenty-four years. She wasn’t sure what her strange distraction meant, but their brief interaction had haunted her throughout the evening.

We are Rom .

She remained haunted, she realized, for she was standing alone in the front hall, in the night-darkened, eerily silent house, wondering about him. He was proud and hostile, and she couldn’t comprehend why he was so defensive, or why he had seemed to dislike her and her father so much. But he had found her attractive. She was woman enough to understand the kind of look he’d given her. Gentlemen had been looking at her with some admiration since she had turned sixteen, but it had never made her think twice—until now.

Her heart was racing.

There was no reason to linger in the front hall, but Ariella stepped closer to the window and pressed her face to the cool glass pane. She thought she heard music.

Ariella realized she should not be surprised. The Romany Gypsies were renowned all over the world for their music.

She was swept with curiosity and excitement. She swiftly crossed the hall, stepping into the parlor, and then she opened the terrace doors. The moment she did, she heard the unfamiliar, exotic music.

She went still. She had heard similar melodies in the Middle East, but she had never heard music with so much passion and joy. And did she hear laughter, as well?

She realized she had crossed the terrace and stood by the railing, staring down the hill. It was a bright night, with a million stars overhead and a waxing moon, but she could see only the light of their fires and the ghostly shapes of the covered wagons. There was no doubt in her mind that the Roma Gypsies were having a celebration.

She wanted to go down the hill. She told herself she did not dare. It was highly improper—and even imprudent. A woman could not wander about the countryside after dark alone. She didn’t care about the scandal, but it could be dangerous.

But no one need know. If she kept hidden, the Romany Gypsies wouldn’t see her, and her family was soundly asleep for the night. If she was careful to avoid any encounters, there wouldn’t be any danger to her person.

She trembled with excitement. When would she ever have this opportunity again? She hadn’t seen Gypsies since she was a child. She might never come across such an encampment again. How could she ignore the music, the festivities? Stories abounded about the Gypsies, about nights filled with music, dance and love.

And what about their charismatic leader?

Ariella breathed hard, her pulse pounding. She knew she found him highly attractive, as well as enigmatic. She was curious about him, too. He seemed so well-spoken, as if educated. He was clearly used to giving commands, and he hadn’t deferred to her father. What kind of man was he? Where had he come from?

The Roma would be gone in the morning.

He would be gone in the morning, too.

Her decision was made. She lifted her pale skirts and stepped down from the terrace onto the lawn. A moment later, she hurried across the drive, her pace increasing along with her excitement. She could identify more than guitars now, for she also heard at least one violin, and the rich song was punctuated with cymbals and clapping hands.

And she could finally see the wagons ahead. The blazing fires within their midst illuminated them. She heard more laughter and conversation, and she glimpsed the dancers, a flurry of movement and jewel tones.

She paused behind the closest wagon, breathing hard. The music was fierce and demanding now. It almost beat inside her, causing her stomach to churn. The tempo had escalated, as had her pulse. Gray eyes dominated her mind’s eye.

Ariella crouched low beside the wagon, slipping around the front. Seeing the dancers, she stiffened in amazement.

In the center of the clearing, he danced alone. He held his arms high, fingers snapping, his white shirt unbuttoned to the waist. His chest gleamed in the firelight as he danced. The fabric of his breeches strained over his thighs and hips, and each step was impossibly seductive and sensual. Each step brought him a bit closer to where she stood. Her mouth became dry.

His eyes were closed. His dark lashes were fanned out on his high, flushed cheekbones. His expression was tight, one of sheer pleasure. A sheen of perspiration covered his face, too, and as he gyrated, she could see his navel. Ariella tugged at her bodice. Every solid inch of his anatomy was visible in that open shirt and those doeskin breeches and she was terribly, uncomfortably hot.

She swallowed. She could not look away and she did not care. She knew her thoughts had become more than improper. She was thinking about his masculinity, his virility and his barely leashed power. He was dancing alone, but somehow, it was terribly suggestive—as if he would soon take a lover to his bed.