“He didn't steal me. He called,” Kira said gently. “I believe that for the rest of my life I'll come whenever he calls me.”
“It's so strong already? Ah, well, it is only what I expected. Come, we'll have breakfast and then we will begin to prepare you for tonight. Perhaps it's best Zack decided not to tolerate my interference. Now you will be able to concentrate on the soul tonight, instead of the body.”
Would she, indeed? Kira somehow doubted it. Her body was still exquisitely sensitive and became even more so when she remembered Zack's hands moving… She drew a deep, shaky breath. “I really wouldn't count on my being preoccupied with the soul tonight, Marna.”
Marna's dark eyes were suddenly twinkling. “Maybe I should have said you'd be able to concentrate on the soul as well as the body. As for me, today I'm going to enjoy myself. I will talk to the women, and laugh, and be a Gypsy again.”
Marna looked years younger and as free and irresponsible as Paulo. She had exchanged the neat black dress she always wore outside the encampment for bright clothing. The full blue skirt and yellow cotton blouse she wore now made her appear almost another person. Kira had never really thought about Marna's age. She had always been merely Marna, as ageless and steady as these hills around them. Now Kira suddenly realized that Marna was only in her early forties.
“You really miss this life, don't you, Marna? You gave up so much when you left your people to take care of me.”
“I gained so much,” Marna corrected. “But it is good that they are still here for me now.”
But they wouldn't be here for her for very long. She would have to leave her people and her country and go into exile again. There was no question that it was entirely Kira's fault. Marna had been drawn into her problems through duty and devotion and now was going to have to suffer for it. “Oh, Marna, I wish-”
Marna's big hand caressed her cheek in a gesture that was half-pat, half gentle slap. “How many times have I told you that it is useless to wish for things. You either do something to get what you want or accept what you have. Stop worrying about me. I will enjoy what I have while I have it. It is the Gypsy way. My way.”
Kira's expression betrayed how troubled she felt. “That's not good enough. Not for you, Marna.”
Marna shrugged. “It will have to be.”
“We'll have to see about that.” She suddenly smiled as she linked her arm with Marna's. “But right now, we'll follow your Gypsy philosophy and enjoy ourselves. It's been a long time since I've been free to do that, and there's no one who knows how to do it better than the Romany.”
KIRA SHOOK HER head as she looked in the mirror Marna was holding before her. “Are you sure this isn't going a bit too far? I saw an old Maria Montez movie on the late-late show on television when I was in college, and even she didn't look this theatrical.
“Seven is lucky.” A gentle smile softened Marna's face. “You look beautiful.”
Kira turned around, trying to see a back view of the outfit. There was no denying it was outrageously flattering. The full circle skirt, a pale-pink and fawn-beige print, swung gaily as she turned. It was cinched by a wide, dark brown suede belt which laced and tied in the front, reminiscent of those worn by seventeenth-century peasant women. The lace-trimmed white blouse was completely off the shoulder and made her breasts appear even more ripe and womanly. Luckily, her own calf-high brown suede boots looked good with the ensemble.
She turned back to Marna with an impish grin. “I've changed my mind. It's much more like the outfit Esmerelda wore in
“Zack would not be pleased with that particular comparison,” Marna said dryly. “And I wouldn't bring it up if I were you. Paulo says Zack's humor hasn't been of the best today.” Her gaze narrowed curiously on Kira's face. “What did you say to him this morning?”
“Just a little misunderstanding. I'll straighten it out when I see him.”
“That would be wise. I don't think many people would be comfortable having Zack ‘misunderstand’ them. You will be in a very vulnerable position after tonight.”
She was in a very vulnerable position right now, Kira realized. What Zack thought and did and felt had already assumed monumental proportions in her life. There were moments when it frightened her. The only time she'd ever known that Zack felt a similar dependence was when he was making love to her this morning, and a sexual dependence would never be enough for her now. She mustn't borrow trouble, though, she reminded herself, because this was only the beginning. There would be time to encourage whatever he felt for her to blossom and grow into something close to the love she was feeling for him. Love. It still felt strange and new and a little intimidating. “Hadn't you better tell me what to expect during the ceremony? Will there be violins and dancing and singing?”
Marna shook her head. “This is the
Kira drew a deep, shaky breath. She hadn't expected to be this nervous. “Yes.”
The next hour was strangely hazy and remote, as if viewed in the center of a dark crystal that misted and cleared and misted again. The silent walk through the autumn woods, then her first sight of the wagon in the little glade of pines. The wagon was painted a brilliant scarlet and a camp-fire crackled before it, sending sparks up into the darkness.
Zack was standing in front of the wagon with an expression on his face that was more grim than serious. He was dressed in the same gray cords he had worn last night, but evidently Paulo had found him another shirt and a pair of knee-length black boots. The shirt was deep burgundy, with long full sleeves, and the rich color set off his darkness like a flame. He had left the first few buttons undone and she could see the heavy muscles that corded his chest and the beginning of the dark wedge of hair that roughened it. The cool breeze stirred the hair on his forehead, giving him the reckless and romantic appeal of Byron. Lord, he was stunning. She found herself staring up at him with the dreamy-eyed lovesickness of a teenager.
He frowned. “Why the devil are you looking at me like that? Have I grown two heads or something?”
She smiled bemusedly. “You're definitely not Quasimodo.”
“What?”
Marna stepped forward. “It is nothing. Kira is a bit fey tonight. Where is Paulo?”
“Here.” Paulo stepped from the shadows behind the wagon. “We begin?”
Marna nodded. “We begin.”
The crystal misted again as she and Zack knelt on the white sheepskin pallet before the fire. How beautiful to see things with perfect clarity and yet enhanced by this diamante veil.
The ceremony was not long. Rich red wine was sipped from a single goblet. Marna murmured a Tamrovian blessing as she stood before them. The halves of an ancient coin that had been severed glittered in the firelight on two separate golden chains. The first talisman was slipped over Zack's head and the second around her own neck. Then Marna stepped back and there was silence for a long moment.
Kira looked up at her inquiringly. Was it over?
Marna shook her head. “Face each other and put your left hands palm to palm.”
Her hand felt small and helpless as it pressed against his large palm. Fair against his darkness. Woman against man. Against? No. Merging, blending, bonding. Her startled eyes lifted to Zack's.
“Yes, I felt it too.
“Mine,” she repeated softly. Together. The current flowing between them was as deep and timeless as it had always been. How many times, how many moments, how many
She was barely aware that Marna was backing away from the fire, leaving them alone in the circle of intimacy
