Seduce Me At Sunrise

Chapter Nine

After attempting to sleep on a bed that had turned into a torture rack, Kev had awoken with a heavy heart. And other, more urgent discomforts.

He'd been plagued with stimulating dreams in which Win's naked body had been writhing against him, beneath him. All the desires he kept at bay in the daylight hours had expressed themselves in those dreams.… He had been holding Win, thrusting inside her, and taking her cries into his mouth… kissing her from head to toe and back again. And in those same dreams she had behaved in a most un-Win-like manner, delicately feasting on him with a wanton mouth, exploring him with inquisitive little hands.

Washing in frigid water had helped his condition marginally, but Kev was still aware of the heat burning far too close to the surface.

He was going to have to face Win today and converse with her in front of everyone, as if everything were ordinary. He was going to have to look at her and not think about the softness between her thighs, and how she had cradled him as he had thrust against her, and how he had felt her warmth even through the layers of their clothes. And how he had lied to her and made her cry.

Feeling wretched and explosive, Kev dressed in the town clothes that the family insisted he wear when in London. "You know how much value gadje place on appearance," Rohan had told him, dragging him to Savile Row. "You have to look respectable, or it will reflect badly on your sisters to be seen with you."

Rohan's former employer, Lord St. Vincent, had recommended a shop that specialized in bespoke tailoring. You won't get anything decent in made-to-measure, St. Vincent had said, flicking an assessing glance over Kev. No pattern would fit him.

Kev had submitted to the indignity of having measurements taken, being draped with countless fabrics, and going for endless fittings. Rohan and the Hathaway sisters had all seemed pleased with the results, but Kev couldn't see any difference between his new attire and the old. Clothes were clothes, something that covered the body to protect it from the elements.

Scowling, Kev donned a white pleated shirt and black cravat, a vest with a notched collar, and narrow-legged trousers. He pulled on a wool town coat with front flap pockets and a split at the back. (Despite his disdain for gadjo clothing, he had to admit it was a fine, comfortable coat.)

As was his habit, Kev went to the Hathaway suite for breakfast. He kept his face expressionless, even though his gut was twisting and his pulse was rampaging. All at the thought of seeing Win. But he would manage the situation adeptly. He would be calm and quiet, and Win would be her usual composed self, and they would get past this first unholy awkward meeting.

All his intentions, however, vanished as he entered the suite, went to the receiving room, and saw Win on the floor. In her underclothes.

She was lying prostrate on her stomach, trying to push upward, while a man leaned over her. Touching her.

The sight exploded inside Kev.

With a bloodthirsty roar, he reached Win in a flash, snatching her up in possessive arms.

"Wait," she gasped. "What are you-oh, don't! Let me expl-no!"

He deposited her unceremoniously on a sofa behind him, and turned to face the other man. The only thought in Kev's mind was swift and effective dismemberment, starting by ripping the bastard's head off.

Prudently the man had rushed behind a heavy chair, placing it between them. "You must be Merripen," he said. "And I'm-"

"A dead man," Kev growled, starting for him.

"He's my doctor!" Win cried. "He's Dr. Harrow, and-Merripen, don't you dare hurt him!"

Ignoring her, Kev went forward about two strides before he felt a leg hook around his, sending him hurtling to the floor. It was Cam Rohan, who pounced on him, knelt on his arms, and gripped the back of his neck.

"Merripen, you idiot," Rohan said, struggling to keep him down, "he's the damned doctor. What do you think you're doing?"

"Killing… him Kev grunted, lurching upward despite Rohan's restraining weight.

"Bloody hell!" Rohan exclaimed. "Leo, help me hold him! Now."

Leo rushed over to help. It took both of them to keep Merripen down.

"I love our family gatherings," he heard Leo say. "Merripen, what the devil is your problem?"

"Win is in her underclothes, and that man-"

"These are not my underclothes," came Win's exasperated voice. "This is an exercise costume!"

Merripen twisted to look in her direction. Since Rohan and Leo were still pinning him down, he couldn't look all the way up. But he saw that Win was clad in loose-fitting drawers and a bodice with bare arms. "I know underclothes when I see them," he snapped.

"These are Turkish trousers, and a perfectly respectable bodice. Every woman at the clinic wears this same costume. Exercising is necessary for my health, and I am certainly not going to do it in a gown and cors-"

"He was touching you!" Kev interrupted harshly.

"He was making certain that I had the correct form."

The doctor approached with caution. There was a flicker of humor in his alert gray eyes. "It's a Hindu exercise, actually. It's part of a strength-training system I've developed. All my patients have incorporated it into their daily schedules. Please believe that my attentions to Miss Hathaway were entirely respectful." He paused and asked wryly, "Am I safe now?"

Leo and Cam, still struggling with Kev, both answered simultaneously, "No."

By this time, Poppy, Beatrix, and Miss Marks had hurried into the room.

"Merripen," Poppy said, "Dr. Harrow wasn't hurting Win a bit, and-"

"He's really very nice, Merripen," Beatrix chimed in. "Even my animals like him."

"Easy," Rohan said quietly to Kev, speaking in Romany so that no one else could understand. "This is no good for anyone."

Kev went still. "He was touching her," he replied in the old language, even though he hated using it.

And he knew Rohan understood that a Rom found it difficult, even impossible, to tolerate any other man putting a hand on his woman, for any reason.

"She's not yours, phral" Rohan said in Romany, not without sympathy.

Slowly Kev forced himself to relax.

"May I get off him now?" Leo asked. "There's only one kind of exertion I enjoy before breakfast. And this is not it."

Rohan allowed Kev to stand but kept one arm twisted behind his back.

Win went to stand beside Harrow. The sight of her wearing so little, being so near another man, caused muscles to twitch all over Kev's body. He could see the shape of her hips and legs. The entire family had gone insane, letting her dress that way in front of an outsider and acting as though it were appropriate. Turkish trousers… as if giving them such a name made them anything but underdrawers.

"I insist that you apologize," Win said. "You've been very rude to my guest, Merripen."

Her guest? Kev stared at her in outrage.

"No need," Harrow said hastily. "I know how it must have appeared."

Win glared at Kev. "He has made me well again, and this is the way you repay him?" she demanded.

"You made yourself well," Harrow said. "It was a result of your own efforts, Miss Hathaway."

Win's expression softened as she glanced at the doctor. "Thank you." But when she looked back at Kev, the frown returned. "Are you going to apologize, Merripen?"

Rohan twisted his arm a bit more tighdy. "Do it, damn you," Rohan muttered. "For the sake of the family."

Glaring at the doctor, Kev spoke in Romany. "Ka xlia ma pe tute." (I'm going to shit on you.)

"Which means," Rohan said hastily, " 'Please forgive the misunderstanding; let's part as friends.'"

"Te malavel les i menkiva," Kev added for good measure. (May you die of a malignant wasting disease.)

"Roughly translated," Rohan said, "that means, 'May your garden be filled with fine, fat hedgehogs.' Which, I may add, is considered quite a blessing among the Rom. "

Harrow looked skeptical. But he murmured, "I accept your apology. No harm done."

"Excuse us," Rohan said pleasantly, still twisting Kev's arm. "Go on with breakfast, please… We have some errands to accomplish. Please tell Amelia when she rises that I'll return at approximately midday." And he steered Kev from the room, with Leo at their heels.

As soon as they were out of the suite and in the hallway, Rohan released Kev's arm and turned to face him. Raking his hand through his hair, Rohan asked with mild exasperation, "What did you hope to get out of killing Win's doctor?"

"Enjoyment."

"No doubt you would have. Win didn't seem to be enjoying it, however."

"Why is Harrow here?" Kev asked fiercely.

"I can answer that one," Leo said, leaning a shoulder against the wall with casual ease. " Harrow wants to become better acquainted with the Hathaways. Because he and my sister are… close."

Kev abruptly felt a sickening weight in his stomach, as if he'd swallowed a handful of river stones. "What do you mean?" he asked, even though he knew. No man could be exposed to Win and not fall in love with her.

" Harrow is a widower," Leo said. "A decent enough fellow. More attached to his clinic and patients than anything else. But he's a sophisticated man, widely traveled, and wealthy as the devil. And he's a collector of beautiful objects. A connoisseur of fine things."

Neither of the other men missed the implication. Win would indeed be an exquisite addition to a collection of fine things.

It was difficult to ask the next question, but Kev forced himself to. "Does Win care for him?"

"I don't believe Win knows how much of what she feels for him is gratitude, and how much is true affection." Leo gave Kev a pointed glance. "And there are still a few unresolved questions she has to answer for herself."

"I'll talk to her."

"I wouldn't, if I were you. Not until she cools a bit. She's rather incensed with you."

"Why?" Kev asked, wondering if she had confided to her brother about the events of the previous night.

"Why?" Leo's mouth twisted. "There's such a dazzling array of choices, I find myself in a quandary about which one to start with. Putting the subject of this morning aside, what about the fact that you never wrote to her?"

"I did," Kev said indignantly.

"One letter," Leo allowed. "The farm report. She showed it to me, actually. How could one forget the soaring prose you wrote about fertilizing the field near the east gate? I'll tell you, the part about sheep dung nearly brought a tear to my eye, it was so sentimental and-'"

"What did she expect me to write about?" Kev demanded.

"Don't bother to explain, my lord," Cam interceded as Leo opened his mouth. "It's not the way of the Rom to put our private thoughts on paper."

"It's not the way of the Rom to run an estate and manage crews of workmen and tenant farmers, either," Leo replied. "But he's done that, hasn't he?" Leo smiled sardonically at Kev's sullen expression. "In all likelihood, Merripen, you'd make a far better lord of the manor than I will. Look at you…… Are you dressed like a Rom? Do you spend your days lounging by the campfire, or are you poring over estate account books? Do you sleep outside on the hard ground, or inside on a nice feather bed? Do you even speak like a Rom anymore? No, you've lost your accent. You sound like-"

"What is your point?" Kev interrupted curtly.

"Only that you've made compromises right and left since you came to this family. You've done whatever you had to, to be close to Win. So don't be a bloody hypocrite and turn all Rom now that you finally have a chance to-" Leo stopped and lifted his eyes heavenward. "Good Lord. This is too much even for me. And I thought I was inured to drama." He gave Rohan a sour look. "You talk to him. I'm going to have my tea."

He went back into the suite, leaving them in the hallway.

"I didn't write about sheep dung," Kev muttered. "It was another kind of fertilizer."

Rohan tried unsuccessfully to smother a grin. "Be that as it may, phral, the word 'fertilizer' should probably be left out of a letter to a lady."

"Don't call me that."

Rohan started down the hallway. "Come with me. There actually is an errand I want you for."

"Not interested."

"It's dangerous," Rohan coaxed. "You might get to hit someone. Maybe even start a brawl. Ah… I knew that would convince you."

One of the qualities Kev found most annoying about Cam Rohan was his persistence in trying to find out about the tattoos. He had pursued the mystery for two years.

Despite the multitude of responsibilities he shouldered, Rohan never missed an opportunity to delve further into the matter. He had searched diligently for his own tribe, asking for information from every passing vardo and going to every Romany camp. But it seemed as if Rohan's tribe had disappeared from the face of the earth, or at least had gone to the other side of it. He would probably never find them-there was no limit to how far a tribe might travel, and no guarantee they would ever return to England.

Rohan had searched marriage records, birth and death records, to find any mention of his mother, Sonya, or himself. Nothing so far. He had also consulted heraldic experts and Irish historians to find out the possible significance of the pooka symbol. All they had been able to do was dredge up the familiar legends of the nightmare horse: that he spoke in a human voice, that he appeared at midnight and called for you to come with him, and you could never refuse. And when you went with him, if you survived the ride, you were changed forever when you returned.

Cam had also not been able to find a meaningful connection between the Rohan and Merripen names, which were common among the Rom. Therefore Rohan's latest approach was to search for Kev's tribe, or anyone who knew about it.

Kev was understandably hostile about this plan, which Rohan revealed to him as they walked to the hotel mews.

"They left me for dead," Kev said. "And you want me to help you find them? If I see any of them, especially the rom baro, I'll kill him with my bare hands."

"Fine," Rohan returned equably. "After they tell us about the tattoo."

"All they'll say is what I've already told you-it's the mark of a curse. And if you ever find out what it means-"

"Yes, yes, I know. We're doomed. But if I'm wearing a curse on my arm, Merripen, I want to know about it."

Kev gave him a glance that should have felled him on the spot. He stopped at a corner of the stables, where hoof picks, clippers, and files were neatly organized on shelves. "I'm not going. You'll have to look for my tribe without me."

"I need you," Rohan countered. "For one thing, the place we're headed to is kekkeno mushespuv."

Kev stared at him in disbelief. Kekkeno mushes puv, translated as "no-man's-land," was a squalid plain located on the Surrey side of the Thames. The open muddy ground was crowded with ragged Gypsy tents, a few dilapidated vardos, feral dogs, and nearly feral Roma. But that wasn't the real danger. There was another, non-Gypsy group called the Chorodies, descendants of rogues and outcasts, mainly Saxon in origin. The Chorodies were truly vile, dirty, and ferocious, without customs or manners. Going anywhere near them was virtually asking to be attacked or robbed. It was hard to imagine a more dangerous place in London except for a few Eastside rookeries.

"Why do you think anyone from my tribe could be in such a place?" Kev asked, more than a little shocked by the idea. Surely, even under the rom baro's leadership, they wouldn't have sunk so low.

"Not long ago I met a chal from the Bosvil tribe. He said his youngest sister, Shuri, was married long ago to your mm baro.'" Rohan stared at Merripen intently. " It seems the story of what happened to you has been told all through Romanija."

"I don't see why," Kev muttered, feeling suffocated. "It's not important."

Rohan shrugged casually, his gaze trained on Kev's face. "The Rom take care of their own. No tribe would ever leave an injured or dying boy behind, no matter what the circumstances. And apparently it brought a curse on the rom baro's tribe… Their luck turned very bad, and most of them came to ruin. There's justice for you."

"I never cared about justice." Kev was vaguely surprised by the rustiness of his own voice.

Rohan spoke with quiet understanding. "It's a strange life, isn't it?… A Rom with no tribe. No matter how hard you look, you can never find a home. Because to us, home is not a building or a tent or vardo… home is a family."

Kev had a difficult time meeting Rohan's gaze. The words cut too close to his heart. In all the time he had known Rohan, Kev had never felt a kinship with him until now. But Kev could no longer ignore the fact that they had too damn much in common. They were two outsiders with pasts full of unanswered questions. And each of them had been drawn to the Hathaways, and had found a home with them.

"I'll go with you, damn it," Kev said gruffly. "But only because I know what Amelia would do to me if I let something happen to you."