I shook my head. ‘I refuse to allow you to land yourself in trouble at this late stage of the game.’ I rose up onto my toes and kissed his cheek. ‘I wish you peace, love, prosperity and happiness, Cingar, for it is surely what you deserve.’
‘Stay by me, please,’ he asked, casting his eyes past our deserted camp to the next.
‘As long as need be,’ I replied, accompanying the captain to meet his destiny.
Both clans were gathered around one of the caravans, and Cingar was cheered by the gathering as he made his appearance. He forced a smile of greeting and was courteous to all his well-wishers.
The captain went to stand next to Chavi, who introduced him to his prospective father-in-law and mother-in- law, Beval and Carmen, who had been closeted with Chavi all of the previous evening.
‘Where is Jessenia?’ Cingar wondered why she was not present.
‘We did not think it appropriate that she attend,’ her father replied sternly. Obviously, Jessenia had also protested to the marriage of Cingar to her sister and I felt for them both.
‘Time to introduce you to your truly intended.’ Beval directed Cingar’s attention to the closed door of the bridal caravan, whereupon the gathering all began chanting for the bride’s presence.
The caravan door was flung open and in the doorway stood a plump girl who bore no resemblance to Jessenia whatsoever. She waved at Cingar, smiling sweetly, while the captain looked at his grandmother, horrified. ‘Please,’ he muttered aside to her, ‘you are joking?’
The bride’s father caught the comment and his face went red in rage before he burst out laughing, as did all the new arrivals and Chavi. ‘Yes, it is a joke.’ Beval slapped his son-in-law’s arm to reassure him, then turned the captain’s head with his hand so that Cingar could note that Jessenia followed the first maiden from the bridal caravan.
‘I don’t understand?’ Cingar was bemused. ‘Are your daughters twins?’
‘We have only one daughter, Cingar,’ Beval placed a hand on the captain’s shoulder to express his sincerity, ‘and she has set her heart on you.’
When Cingar looked at Jessenia and her smile and nod allayed all his fears, my eyes flooded with tears of happiness for them both.
‘What did I say?’ Chavi posed to me, as Cingar kissed his intended.
‘You are so cruel.’ I voiced my view of her game.
‘Not so,’ she defended. ‘I just know my grandson…he will never commit to anything that he does not feel was his own idea.’
‘So,’ Beval asked the young couple, ‘shall there be a wedding here tomorrow?’
The confirmation of the event was unanimous! FROM THE HONEYMOON JOURNAL OF LADY SUSAN DEVERE
We befriended and bribed many officials between Orleans and Marseilles in order to finally track down the gypsy caravan that we suspected Ashlee was travelling with.
We had our carriage stop some way from the gypsy camp, behind a cluster of trees, where we contemplated our next move.
Lord Devere was all for riding straight up to the camp and confronting our dear sister with the truth.
‘If she doesn’t see us coming and run off again,’ Mr Devere argued. ‘It has taken so long to find her I don’t want to scare her off before I get a chance to explain myself.’
‘Could I make a suggestion?’
The Devere men had drawn pistols and taken aim before I had even spotted the gypsy fellow who stood peering in our carriage window.
‘Please, gentlemen,’ he smiled, warmly. ‘I am to be wed tomorrow and have no desire to die.’
‘Who are you?’ I asked, rather well disposed toward the handsome vagabond.
‘I am Cingar Choron, the captain of this band,’ he announced.
‘Then you know the whereabouts of Miss Ashlee Winston,’ Mr Devere stated, without lowering his pistol.
‘And you must be Devere.’ Cingar kept his good humour.
‘My wife has mentioned me?’ Mr Devere was surprised.
‘As the man who broke her heart,’ Cingar said bluntly and Devere lowered the gun, hurt by the truth of it.
‘So, she does despise me,’ he concluded sadly.
‘No, quite the contrary,’ Cingar said cheerily and gave a big grin—he was an odd, but very likeable fellow.
Devere’s spirits lifted and he exited the carriage quickly to speak with the gypsy. ‘Would you take me to her?’
Cingar laughed at his proposal. ‘Hardly. I am her friend, she is my saviour and
‘Mr Choron.’ I thought to speak up for my dear brother.
‘Lovely lady,’ he flattered as he awarded me his full attention.
I do declare I forgot what I was going to say for a moment. ‘I have known Ashlee…Miss Winston, for ten years; there is no greater friend to her than I. Thus, I can assure you that there has been a terrible misunderstanding, and my dear friend could be in grave danger. She needs Mr Devere close to her, whether she realises it or not. Won’t you help us? Please.’
