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Vangie glanced to the sun again. Perhaps two minutes had passed since the last time she’d checked. Stop looking. It was late afternoon. Ian hadn’t returned last evening like he’d promised. Sighing in resignation, she lowered her gaze in disappointment. She shouldn’t care. She didn’t care. Liar, her heart taunted.

She’d believed him to be a man of his word before they married. Now, she didn’t know what to make of him. The hoofbeats of an approaching horse echoed in the distance, but she was afraid to look. Afraid it wasn’t him. Afraid it was.

From beneath her lashes she dared a peek. There he sat, straight and tall and handsome, and staring straight at her. He slowed Pericles from a gallop to a canter when he reached the periphery of the Romani camp.

Relief swept over her—only because she’d been concerned for his welfare, of course. Vangie firmly set her other emotions aside. She remained beside Puri Daj and the young girl, Lala, Pur Daj was treating for a campfire burn.

Ian rode Pericles directly across the clearing, stopping before her. Something delicious skimmed across her senses before she returned her attention to the child. She handed Puri Daj a soft linen cloth to wrap Lala’s calf in.

He had returned.

She truly hadn’t thought he would. Surely the fluttering in her middle wasn’t gladness? After what he did? She wasn’t completely addle-witted. No, she’d not eaten anything since morning. She was hungry—thatwasall.

Nonetheless, from the corner of her eye, she watched him. Holding the reins in his left hand, he grasped the horse’s mane and then swung his right leg over the stallion’s hindquarters. Giving a powerful shove, he dropped to the ground.

With a smart bow, Ian honored Puri Daj by greeting her first. “Droboy tume Romale.”

A pleased expression flashed across her face. She inclined her head in welcome. “Thank you, Ian. You learn our language. This is good.” She smiled her approval.

He was learning Romanese? Vangie squelched the happiness attempting to bubble to the surface. Balderdash and rubbish. It meant nothing. If he thought he could wheedle his way into her affections by learning a bit of Romanese—Drat, now he turned that rakish smile on Lala.

Ian bowed to the child. “Droboy tume tinka.”

Lala giggled, burying her face in Puri Daj’s skirt.

Vangie dipped her head and hid a smile. He could charm a stick into throwing itself into a fire then have it thanking him for the honor of burning to ash.

“Vangie.” His deep voice interrupted her musings. “I’m sorry I didn’t return last evening.” He rubbed Pericles’ forehead before patting the horse’s sweaty neck. “I was delayed.”

Obviously.

“It’s of no importance.” Vangie placed the stopper on the jar of pungent ointment. She wiped her hands on her apron, and searched his face. Lines of fatigue marred his brow and crinkled the corners of his eyes. Had he slept at all? Unease washed over her. Something was wrong. Picking up the ointment, she tucked the jar into the medicine basket.

“Come tinka,” Puri Daj said, taking Lala by the hand. “Let’s see if your mother has finished the pirogo. Mayhap she’ll give us a taste while it’s yet warm. It’s my favorite dessert.”

“Mine too,” the child piped as she limped away.

Vangie watched them go. She couldn’t even think of an excuse to ask Pur Daj to stay. The silence after her departure hung heavy and awkward with constrained emotion. Ian’s gaze kept wandering; first to Yoska’s vardo, then the river and corral, and finally to the hillside behind the camp.

“All is well here?” He scanned the clearing again before he settled his gaze on her once more. Something indecipherable glimmered in his eyes before he masked it. “You are well?”

“Yes.” Vangie tilted her head, scrutinizing him.

Ian appeared reserved and preoccupied. Did he regret his promise to return? His gaze roved around once more. “A letter arrived for you.” He withdrew the slightly crumpled paper from inside his coat pocket. “It’s from your cousin.”

She took the rectangle. “Thank you.”

“Forgive me, Vangie, but I must speak with Yoska and Tobar.” He bowed and then leading Pericles, he went in search of the men.

Eyebrows pulled together, she stared after him, perplexed. Untying her simple apron, she tossed it across the makeshift table. She didn’t know what to make of his peculiar greeting. He’d seemed happy to see her, almost anxious to talk to her. Then he’d retreated into his shell of indifference. She’d not seen him behave that way since the night she shot the highwayman.

Well, there had been those few moments in Somersfield’s drawing room too.

Why had he returned if he only meant to keep her at a distance?

Do I really want to know?

No. Yes. No. Oh, bother and blast. She’d never been so double-minded in her life.