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Vangie rushed to them. “How is he?”
Puri Daj met her eyes before combing the groups huddled around the other wounded. “He’s injured the worst. His ribs are cracked and his arm broken.”
“No Roma are dead, truly?” Vangie inhaled an unsteady breath, struggling to contain her tears of relief.
“No, praise God.” Puri Daj paused, sitting back on her heels. She assessed Vangie with her intelligent eyes. Affection sparkled in their depths. “You are leaving.” Covering her hand with her own she said, “That is how it should be.” She cast a glance at Ian and smiled. “He loves you.”
Warmth infused Vangie. “Aue, I know.”
An hour later, just as dawn whispered her palette of colors across the sky, she hugged Puri Daj. “I’ll return with the land deed in a fortnight.”
Grandmother brushed an errant curl from her cheek. “Your father and mother would be proud, tikna. What you’ve done for our people…”
Emotion clogged Vangie’s throat, and she sent a loving look to Ian sitting patiently atop Pericles. He threw his head back, laughing at something Yoska said. “Ian made it possible, and he is the one who deserves the Roma’s gratitude.”
Besnik lifted her to sit before Ian, and Yoska handed her Lancelot. Her gaze fell on Jasper, sitting on the dog cart seat. His spine ramrod stiff, he led the caravan from the encampment. The two surviving bandits, had been stuffed into the box of the dog cart, bound and gagged. Gerard and the other stable hands led a string of horses. Pericles brought up the rear of the odd entourage.
Shifting, she peered over Ian’s shoulder and smiled at Ailsa standing beside Besnik. Vangie waved gaily. “We’ll return for the wedding. Two weeks will pass before you know it.”
Besnik stood with his arms folded, a surly scowl on his face.
Ian cocked a slanted eyebrow. “Sweeting, why’s he so churlish?”
She giggled. “He wanted the wedding to take place immediately, but Ailsa insisted on waiting two weeks. She said her family would want to attend. She wasn’t even going to remain in camp, but Besnik, poor besotted fool, wouldn’t hear of her leaving.” Tapping her chin, Vangie mused. “Would Charlotte mind overly much if I sent one of her gowns for Ailsa to remake?”
He nuzzled her neck and squeezed Pericles in the sides with his heels. “Send her a dozen of the blasted things.”
The stallion ambled forward, and with one last wave to her grandmother, Vangie settled against Ian, peeping at him through her lashes. “I don’t understand it.” She smiled coyly while trailing a finger across his chest. “Besnik wasn’t the least pacified. Even after Ailsa kissed him soundly.”
“I doubt he’ll have to wait two weeks for what he wants,” he muttered as he tugged Vangie against him and cupped her breast beneath her shawl.
“Ian, stop.” She pushed at is hand. “Someone will see.” She cast a worried glance around them.
Grinning, he wiggled his fingers beneath the covering.
“Lout.” She swatted at his hand.
Lancelot latched onto one of Ian’s fingers, sinking his needle-like puppy teeth into the soft flesh.
Ian yelped. “Let go, you little bugger.”
“He thinks you’re playing.” Vangie erupted into giggles.
Shaking the off pup, Ian returned to exploring beneath her wrap. He brushed the nipple protruding through the soft fabric of her blouse, and Vangie bit the inside of her cheek to keep from groaning aloud.
“Ian?” She tried to sound scandalized, difficult to do when sultry yearning permeated every syllable. “You’re wrong about Ailsa.”
He murmured in her ear, “Am I?”
Unconscionable cur, teasing her so.She nearly melted from the delicious sensations his warm breath tickling her ear aroused. Instead, she sagged against him and filled her lungs with a deep gulp of bracing air. “Indeed. I heard her myself. ‘I’m no easy wench you can tumble before our vows, Besnik Bailey.’”
“Ah, my lady, therein lies the difference. We’ve exchanged our vows.”
Vangie tried to hide her blushes for the next several miles as Ian proceeded to explain in great detail, precisely how he intended to tumble her. When Pericles stopped before the mansion at last, she wiggled her numb bottom against Ian’s loins.
“Stop it, minx,” he ground out. “I’m already hard as stone.”
“Fifteen minutes, my lord.”
“Fifteen minutes?”
She drew his head downward and whispered in his ear.
