Seduce Me At Sunrise

Chapter Twenty-two

The rom phuro came forward and knelt beside the berth. "Hello, Camlo," he murmured.

Cam regarded him with puzzled wonder. "Noah. You're older."

His cousin chuckled. "Indeed. The last time I saw you, you barely came up to my chest. And now you look as if you could be nearly a head taller than me."

"You never came back for me."

Kev broke in tautly. "And you never told him he had a brother."

Noah's smile turned regretful as he regarded them both. "I couldn't do either of those things. For your own protection." His gaze swerved in Kev's direction. "We were told you were dead, Kev. I'm glad to find out we were wrong. How did you survive? Where have you been living?"

Kev scowled at him. "Never mind about that. Rohan has spent years looking for you. Looking for answers. You tell him the truth now, about why he was sent away from the tribe, and what that cursed tattoo means. And don't leave anything out."

Noah looked mildly taken aback by Kev's autocratic manner. As the leader of the vitsa, Noah wasn't used to taking orders from anyone.

"He's always like this," Cam told Noah. "You get used to it."

Reaching beneath the berth, Noah pulled out a wooden box and began to rummage through its contents.

"What do you know about our Irish blood?" Kev demanded. "What was our father's name?"

"There is much I don't know," Noah admitted. Finding what he had evidently been looking for, he pulled it from the box and looked at Cam. "But our grandmother told me as much as she could on her deathbed. And she gave me this-"

He raised a tarnished silver knife.

In a lightning-swift reflex, Kev seized his cousin's wrist in a crushing grip. Win gave a startled cry, while Cam tried unsuccessfully to lift up on his elbows.

Noah stared hard into Kev's eyes. "Peace, Cousin. I would never harm Camlo." He let his hand open. "Take it from me. It belongs to you; it was your father's. His name was Brian Cole."

Kev took the knife and slowly released Noah's wrist. He stared at the object, a boot knife with a double-edged fixed blade approximately four inches long. The handle was silver, with engraving on the bolsters. It looked old and costly. But what amazed Kev was the engraving on the flat of the handle… a perfect stylized symbol of the Irish pooka.

He showed it to Cam, who stopped breathing for a moment.

"You are Cameron and Kevin Cole," Noah said. That horse symbol was the mark of your family.… It was in their crest. When we separated the two of you, it was decided to put the mark on both of you. Not only to identify you, but also as an appeal to the second son of Moshto, to preserve and protect you."

"Who is Moshto?" Win asked softly.

"A Romany deity," Kev said, hearing his own dazed voice as if it belonged to someone else. "The god of all things good."

"I looked…" Cam began, still staring at the knife, and shook his head as if the effort to explain was too much.

Kev spoke for him. "My brother hired heraldic experts and researchers to go through books of Irish family crests, and they never found this symbol."

"I believe the Coles removed the pooka from the crest about three hundred years ago, when the English king declared himself the head of the Church of Ireland. The pooka was a pagan symbol. No doubt they thought it might threaten their standing in the reformed Church. But the Coles still had a fondness for it. I remember your father wore a big silver ring engraved with the pooka."

Glancing at his brother, Kev sensed that Cam felt just as he did, that it was like having been in a closed room all his life and suddenly having a door opened.

"Your father, Brian," Noah continued, "was the son of Lord Cavan, an Irish representative peer in the British House of Lords. Brian was his only heir. But your father made a mistake-he fell in love with a Romany girl named Sonya. Quite beautiful. He married her in defiance of his family, and hers. They lived away from everyone long enough for Sonya to have two sons. She died in her childbed when Cam was born."

"I always thought my mother died having me," Kev said softly. "I never knew about a younger brother."

"It was after the second son that she went to God." Noah looked pensive. "I was old enough to remember the day Cole brought the two of you to our grandmother. He told Mami it had been a misery trying to live in both worlds, and he wanted to go back where he belonged. So he left his children with the tribe and never returned."

"Why did you separate us?" Cam asked, still looking exhausted but far more like his usual self.

Noah stood in an easy movement and went to the corner near the stove. As he replied, he made tea with deft assurance, measuring out dried leaves into a little pot of steaming water. "After a few years, your father remarried. And then other vitsas told us that some gadjos had come looking for the boys, offering money for information and doing violence when the Rom wouldn't tell them anything. We realized your father wanted to get rid of his half-breed sons, who were the legitimate heirs to the title. He had a new wife, who would bear him white children."

"And we were in the way," Kev said grimly.

"It would seem so." Noah strained the tea into a pot. He poured a cup, added sugar, and brought it to Cam. "Have some, Camlo. You need to wash the poison out."

Cam sat up and leaned his back against the wall. He took the cup in a wobbling grip and sipped the hot brew carefully. "So to reduce the chances of both of us being found," he said, "you kept me and gave Kev to our uncle."

"Yes, to Uncle Pov." Noah frowned and averted his gaze from Kev. "Sonya was his favorite sister. We thought he would be a good protector. No one expected that he would blame her children for her death."

"He hated the gadje" Kev said in a low voice. "That was something else he held against me."

Noah made an effort to look at him. "After we heard that you had died, we thought it too dangerous to keep Cam. So I brought him to London, and helped him find work."

"In a gaming club?" Cam said, a note of questioning skepticism in his voice.

"Sometimes the best hiding places are in plain sight," came Noah's prosaic reply.

Cam was shaking his head ruefully. "I'll bet half of London has seen my tattoo. It's a wonder Lord Cavan never caught wind of it."

Noah frowned. "I told you to keep it covered."

"No, you didn't."

"I did," Noah insisted, and put his hand on his forehead. "Ah, Moshto, you were never good at listening."

Win sat quietly beside Merripen. She listened as the men talked, but she was also busy taking in her surroundings. The vardo was old but scrupulously maintained, the interior clean and tidy. A faint, crisp scent of smoke seemed to emanate from the walls, the boards seasoned by thousands of meals that had been prepared in the vehicle. Children played outside, laughing and quarreling. It was odd to think that this caravan was a family's only refuge from the outside world. The lack of sheltered space compelled the tribe to live mostly out-of-doors. As foreign as that idea was, there was a kind of freedom in it.

It was possible to imagine Cam taking to this way of life, adapting to it, but not Kev. There would always be something in him that would drive him to control and master his surroundings. To build, to organize. Having lived with her kind for so long, he had come to understand them. And in understanding them, he had become more like them.

She wondered how he felt at having his Romany past finally uncovered, the mysteries explained. He seemed perfectly calm and controlled, but it would be unsettling for anyone to experience this.

"… with all the time that has passed," Cam was saying, "I wonder if there's still danger to us? And is our father still alive?"

"It would be easy enough to find out," Merripen replied, and added darkly, "He probably wouldn't be happy to find out that we were still alive."

"You're more or less safe as long as you remain Roma," Noah said. "But if Kev reveals himself as the Cavan heir and tries to claim the title, there could be trouble."

Merripen looked scornful. "Why would I do that?"

Noah shrugged. "No Rom would. But you are half gadjo."

"I don't want the title or what comes with it," Merripen said firmly. "And I want nothing to do with the Coles, Lord Cavan, or anything Irish."

"And ignore half of yourself?" Cam asked.

"I've spent most of life not knowing about my Irish half. It will be no problem to ignore it now."

A Romany boy came to the vardo to let them know that the sling had been finished.

"Good," Merripen said decisively. "I'll help him outside, and he-"

"Oh no," Cam said, scowling. "There is no possible way I'm going to let myself be carried in a sling to Ramsay House."

Merripen gave him a sardonic glance. "How are you planning to get there?"

"I'll ride."

Merripen's brows lowered. "You're in no condition to ride. You'll fall and break your neck."

"I can do it," Cam insisted stubbornly. "It's not far." "You'll fall off the horse!"

"I'm not going in the bloody sling. It would frighten Amelia."

"You're not worried about Amelia nearly so much as your own pride. You'll be carried, and that's final."

"Bugger you," Cam snapped.

Win and Noah exchanged a worried glance. The brothers seemed ready to come to blows.

"As the tribe leader, I may be able to help settle the dispute-," Noah began diplomatically.

Merripen and Cam answered at the same time, '"No."

"Kev," Win murmured, "could he ride with me? He could sit behind me and hold on to me for balance."

"All right," Cam said immediately. "We'll do that."

Merripen scowled at them both.

"I'll go as well," Noah said with a slight smile. "On my own horse. I'll tell my son to saddle him." He paused. "Can you stay a few minutes more? You have many Romany cousins to meet. And I have a wife and children I want to show to you, and-"

"Later," Merripen said. "I need to take my brother to his wife without delay."

"Very well."

After Noah had gone outside, Cam stared absently into the dregs of his tea.

"What are you thinking?" Merripen asked.

"I'm wondering if our father had children by his second wife. And if so, how many? Are there half brothers and half sisters we don't know about?"

Merripen's eyes narrowed. "What does it matter?"

"They're our family."

Merripen smacked his forehead with his hand in an uncharacteristically dramatic gesture. "We've got the Hathaways, and we've got more than a dozen Roma running around outside, who are all apparently cousins. How much more damned family do you want?"

Cam only smiled.

Not surprisingly, Ramsay House was in an uproar. The Hathaways, Miss Marks, the servants, the parish constable, and a doctor were crowded in the entrance hall. Since the short ride had depleted Cam 's strength, he was forced to lean on Merripen as they went inside.

They were immediately surrounded by the family, with Amelia pushing her way to Cam. She gave a sob of relief as she reached him, fighting tears as she ran frantic hands over his chest and face. Letting go of Merripen, Cam wrapped his arms around Amelia, his head lowering nearly to her shoulder. They were quiet amid the tumult, breathing in measured sighs. One of her hands crept up to his hair, fingers closing in the dark layers. Cam murmured something against her ear, some soft and private reassurance. And he swayed, causing Amelia to grip him more tightly, while Kev took his shoulders to steady him.

Cam lifted his head and looked down at his wife. "I drank some coffee this morning," he told her. "It didn't sit well."

"So I heard," Amelia said, smoothing her hand across his chest. She threw a worried glance at Kev. "His gaze isn't focused."

"He's higher than a jackdaw," Kev said. "We gave him raw opium to calm his heart before Win brought the antidote."

"Let's take him upstairs," Amelia said, using the edge of her sleeve to scrub her wet eyes. Raising her voice, she spoke to the elderly bearded man who stood outside the group. "Dr. Martin, please accompany us upstairs and you will be able to evaluate my husband's condition in private."

"I don't need a doctor," Cam protested.

"I wouldn't complain, if I were you," Amelia told him. "I'm tempted to send for at least a half-dozen doctors, not to mention specialists from London." She paused long enough to glance at Noah. "Are you the gentleman who helped Mr. Rohan? We are indebted to you, sir."

"Anything for my cousin," Noah replied.

"Cousin?" Amelia repeated, her eyes widening.

"I'll explain upstairs," Cam said, lurching forward. Immediately Noah took one side and Merripen the other, and they half-dragged, half-carried Cam up the grand staircase. The family followed, exclaiming and talking excitedly.

"These are the noisiest gadje I've ever met," Noah remarked.

"This is nothing," Cam said, panting with effort as they ascended. "They're usually much worse."

"Moshto!" Noah exclaimed, shaking his head.

Cam 's privacy was marginal at best as he was deposited on the bed and Dr. Martin began to examine him. Amelia made a few attempts to shoo family and relatives from the room, but they kept pushing back in to see what was happening. After Martin tested Cam 's pulse, pupil size, lung sounds, skin moisture and color, and reflexes, he pronounced that in his opinion, the patient would make a full recovery. If there were any troublesome symptoms during the night, such as heart palpitations, they could be soothed by imbibing a drop of laudanum in a glass of water.

The doctor also said that Cam should be given clear liquids and bland foods and he should rest for the next two or three days. He would probably experience a loss of appetite, and almost certainly some headaches, but when he was fully rid of the last traces of digitalis, everything would be back to normal.

Satisfied that his brother was in good condition, Kev went to Leo in the corner of the room and asked softly, "Where is Harrow?"

"Out of your reach," Leo said. "They took him off to the gaol just before you returned. And don't bother trying to get to him. I've already told the constable not to let you within a hundred yards of the pinfold."

"I should think you'd like to reach him first," Merripen said. "You despise him as much as I do."

"True. But I believe in letting due process take its course. And I don't want Beatrix to be disappointed. She's hoping for a trial."

"Why?"

"She wants to present Dodger as a witness."

Lifting his gaze heavenward, Kev went to the corner of the room and leaned his back against the wall. He listened as the Hathaways exchanged their versions of the day's events and the constable asked questions and even Noah became involved, which then led to the revelation of Kev's and Cam 's pasts, and so forth. Information flew in animated volleys. It was never going to end.

Cam, in the meantime, seemed more than content to lie on the bed while Amelia fussed over him. She smoothed his hair, gave him water, straightened the covers, and caressed him repeatedly. He yawned and struggled to keep his eyes open, and turned his cheek into the pillow.

Kev turned his attention to Win, who was sitting in a chair near the bed, her back straight as always. She looked serene and proper, except for the loose strands of hair that had slipped from their pins. One would never guess that she was capable of setting a wardrobe on fire. With Dr. Harrow in it. As Leo had put it, the deed may not have reflected well on her intelligence, but one had to give her points for ruthlessness. And it had gotten the job done.

Kev had been rather sorry to hear that Leo had pulled Harrow out, smoky but unharmed.

Eventually Amelia announced that the visit must soon come to an end, as Cam needed to rest. The constable departed, as did Noah and the servants, until the only ones left were immediate family.

"I think Dodger's under the bed." Beatrix dropped to the floor and peered under it.

"I want my garter back," Miss Marks said darkly, lowering to the carpet beside Beatrix. Leo regarded Miss Marks with covert interest.

Meanwhile, Kev wondered what to do about Win.

It seemed that love was working through him inexorably, more exotic and sweet and disorienting than raw opium. More pervasive than oxygen from air. He was so damn tired of trying to resist it.

Cam had been right. You could never predict what would happen. All you could do was love her.

Very well.

He would give in to it, to her, without trying to qualify or control anything. He would surrender. He would come out of the shadows for good. He took a long, slow breath and let it out.

I love you, he thought, looking at Win. I love every part of you, every thought and word… the entire complex, fascinating bundle of all the things you are. I want you with ten different kinds of need at once. I love all the seasons of you, the way you are now, the thought of how much more beautiful you'll be in the decades to come. I love you for being the answer to every question my heart could ask.

And it seemed so easy, once he capitulated. It seemed natural and right.

Kev wasn't certain if he was surrendering to Win or to his own passion for her. Only that there was no more holding back. He would take her. And he would give her everything he had, every part of his soul, even the broken pieces.

He stared at her without blinking, half-fearing that the slightest movement on his part might precipitate actions he wouldn't be able to control. He might simply launch toward her and drag her from the room. The anticipation was delicious, knowing he was going to have her soon.

Drawn by his gaze, Win glanced at him. Whatever she saw in his face caused her to blink and color. Her fingers fluttered to her throat as if to soothe her own racing pulse. That made it worse, his desperate need to hold her. He wanted to taste the blush on her skin, absorb the heat with his lips and tongue. His most primitive impulses began firing, and he stared intently at her, willing her to move.

"Excuse me," Win murmured, standing in a graceful motion that impassioned him beyond sanity. Her fingers made that little flutter again, this time near her hip, as if her nerves were jumping, and he wanted to seize her hand and bring it to his mouth. "I will leave you to rest, dear Mr. Rohan," she said unsteadily.

"Thank you," Cam mumbled from the bed. "Little sister… thank you for…"

As he hesitated, Win said with a quick little grin, "I understand. Sleep well."

The grin faded as she risked a glance at Kev. Seeming inspired by a healthy sense of self-preservation, she left the room hastily.

Before another second had passed, Kev was at her heels.

"Where are they going in such a hurry?" Beatrix asked from beneath the bed.

"Backgammon," Miss Marks said hastily. "I'm sure I heard them planning to play a round or two of backgammon."

"So did I," Leo commented.

"It must be fun to play backgammon in bed," Beatrix said innocently, and snickered.

It immediately became clear that it would not be an arbitration of words, but of something far more primal. Win went swiftly and silently toward her room, not daring to look back, though she had to be aware that he was following closely. The carpeted floor absorbed the sound of their footsteps, one set hurried, the other predatory.

Still without looking at him, Win stopped at her closed door, her fingers curling around the handle. "My terms," she said softly. "As I told them to you before."

Kev understood. Nothing would happen between them now unless Win had her way implicitly. And he loved her for her stubborn strength, while at the same time his Romany half bristled. She might have mastered him in some regards, but not all. He shouldered the door open, nudged her into the room, and closed them both inside. He turned the key in the lock.

Before she could take another breath, he had secured her head in his hands and he was kissing her, opening her mouth with his. The taste of her inflamed him, but he went slowly, letting the kiss become a deep, luscious gnawing, sucking to draw her tongue into his mouth. He felt her body mold against his, or at least as much as her heavy skirts would allow.

"Don't lie to me again," he said gruffly.

"I won't. I promise." Her blue eyes were brilliant with love.

He wanted to touch the soft flesh beneath the layers of cloth and lace. He began to pull at the back of her gown, unfastening the ornate buttons, tearing off the resistant ones, tugging his way down until the whole mass of it loosened and she was gasping. Crushing the billows with his feet, he stood with her in the deep pink folds of the ruined gown as if they were at the heart of some gigantic flower. He reached for her undergarments, untying the ribbon at the neckline of her chemise and the tapes of her drawers. She moved to help him, her slender arms and legs emerging from the crumpled linen.

Her pink-and-white nakedness was breathtaking. The slim, strong calves were sheathed in white stockings tied with plain garters. It was unbearably erotic, the contrast of luxurious warm flesh and prim white cotton. Intending to unfasten the garters, he knelt in the soft heaps of pink muslin. She crooked one of her knees to help him, the shy offering distracting him insanely. He bent to kiss her knees, the silken inner thighs, and when she murmured and tried to evade him, he gripped her hips and kept her still. He nuzzled gently into the pale curls, into the roseate fragrance and softness, using his tongue to separate her. Open her. Her moan was soft and pleading.

"My knees are shaking," she whispered. "I'll fall."

Kev ignored her, searching deeper. He lapped and sucked and ate her, his hunger surging at the first taste of female elixir. She pulsed around him as he thrust his tongue deeply, and he felt the response resonating through her body. Breathing into the plush folds, he licked one side of her, then the other, then straight between to the place where her pleasure centered. Entranced, he stroked her over and over, until her hands were gripped in his hair and her hips urged forward in tight undulations.

He took his mouth from her and came to his feet. Her face was dazed, her gaze distant, as if she didn't quite see him. She was trembling from head to toe. His arms slid around her, gathering her naked body against his clothed one. Lowering his mouth to the tender crook of her neck and shoulder, he kissed her skin and touched his tongue to it. At the same time, he reached for the fastenings of his trousers and undid them.

She clung to him as he lifted her and pressed her against the wall, one of his arms protecting her back from abrasion. Her body was supple and surprisingly light, her spine tensing as he eased her weight down and she realized what he meant to do. He settled her fully, watching her mouth draw into a soft O of surprise as she was impaled in a slow, sure glide.

The stockinged legs clamped around his waist, and she held on to him desperately, as if they were on the tossing deck of a storm-ravaged ship. But Kev kept her pinned and secure, letting his hips do the work. The band of his trousers slipped free of the anchoring clips of his braces, and the garment slid to his knees. He averted his face to hide a brief grin, momentarily considering the idea of stopping to take his clothes off… but it felt too good, the lust rising until it eclipsed every trace of amusement.

Win let out a little breath with each wet, rolling drive, feeling herself being filled, ransacked. He paused to kiss her hungrily, while he reached down with gentle fingers and teased the swollen lips apart. When the rhythm resumed, his thrusts grazed the little peak with each firm inward plunge. Her eyes closed as if in sleep, her intimate flesh working on him in frantic pulses.

In, and in, rooting deeper, driving her further to the edge. Her legs went tight around his waist. She stiffened and cried out against his mouth, and he sealed the kiss to keep her quiet. But little moans slipped through, her pleasure shuddering and overrunning. As Kev buried himself in the lovely milking softness, ecstasy shot through him, spilling hotly, gradually easing into helpless throbs.

Gasping, Kev lowered her legs to the floor. They stood, their bodies moistly locked, their mouths rubbing in soothing kisses and sighs. Win's hands slipped beneath his shirt and moved over his sides and back in gentle benediction. He withdrew from her carefully and stripped the clothes from his steaming body.

Somehow they made it to the bed. Kev dragged them both into the cocoon of wool and linen and nestled Win against him. The scents of her, of both of them, rose in a light saline perfume to his nose. He breathed it in, stirred by the mingled fragrance.

"Me voliv tu," he whispered, and brushed her smiling lips with his. "When a Rom tells his woman, 'I love you,' the meaning of the word is never chaste. It expresses desire. Lust."

That pleased Win. "Me voliv tu," she whispered back. "Kev…"

"Yes, love?"

"How does one marry the Romany way?"

"Join hands in front of witnesses, and make a vow. But we'll do it the way of the gadje, too. And every other way I can think of." He took off her garters and unrolled her stockings one by one, and wiggled her toes individually until she made a little purring sound.

Reaching for him, she guided his head to her breasts, arching upward invitingly. He obliged her, taking a pink tip into his mouth and circling it with his tongue until it contracted into a tender-hard bud.

"I don't know what to do now," Win said, her voice languid.

"Just lie there. I'll take care of the rest."

She chuckled. "No, what I meant was, what do people do when they finally reach their happy-ever-after?"

"They make it a long one." He fondled her other breast, gently shaping the roundness with his fingers.

"Do you believe in happy-ever-after?" she persisted, gasping a little as he gave her a playful nip.

"As in the children's tales? No."

"You don't?"

He shook his head. "I believe in two people loving each other." A smile curved his lips. "Finding pleasure in ordinary moments. Walking together. Arguing over things like the timing of an egg, or how to manage the servants, or the size of the butcher's bill. Going to bed each night, and waking up together each morning." Lifting his head, he cradled the side of her face in his hand. "I've always started every day by going to the window for a glimpse of the sky. But now I won't have to."

"Why not?" she asked softly.

"Because I'll see the blue of your eyes instead."

"How romantic you are," she murmured with a grin, kissing him gently. "But don't worry. I won't tell anyone."

Merripen began to make love to her again, so engrossed that he didn't seem to notice the slight rattle of the door lock.

Peeking over his shoulder, Win saw the long, skinny body of Beatrix's ferret stretching upward to pluck the key from the lock. Her lips parted to say something, but then Merripen kissed her and spread her thighs. Later, she thought giddily, ignoring the sight of Dodger squeezing beneath the door with the key in his mouth. Perhaps later would be a better time to mention it…

And soon she forgot all about the key.