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She turned the letter over. Yvette’s dainty writing slanted across the front of the foolscap. Finding a quiet spot behind Puri Daj’s wagon, and comfortably settled on a blanket, Vangie broke open the wax seal. She quickly scanned the contents.
Papa is expanding his shipping enterprises once more. He is moving us to Boston, Massachusetts for two years. Dearest cousin, how can I bear being away from you so long? We are to leave in September. Papa has said I may come for an extended visit next month…
Yvette was leaving England? For two years?
Vangie fought bitter tears. She should be overjoyed at the prospect of a visit from her beloved cousin, but despair better suited her mood. She worried her lower lip while twisting a strand of hair. What was she to do? She wasn’t ready to explain her altered marital status to anyone yet, most especially her family.
Heaven help her, she could already envision the secretive pitying looks. It simply wouldn’t do to have Yvette visit if Vangie weren’t in residence at Somersfield. But how could she tell Yvette she couldn’t come? And she did so want to see her cousin before she sailed.
“Latchi divvus, Zora.”
Vangie hadn’t heard Besnik approach. Smiling a welcome, she patted the blanket. “Good day to you too. Come, sit with me, dear friend.”
Besnik’s dark gaze searched her face. “You are well, nukkidai?
“Aue.”
“Will you remain with us now?”
Something in Besnik’s tone caused her to twist and peer at him intently. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly.
Angling back onto his elbows, one knee crooked, he smiled, revealing strong, white teeth. He truly was a handsome man, and if her heart weren’t already engaged, she might have come to love him.
“You kam him?” he asked.
Vangie dipped her chin and closed her eyes in acknowledgement. “Aue, I love him.”
“I would still gladly make you my rommadi.” His dark gaze roved her face.
Yes, if only she hadn’t met Ian, hadn’t danced with him at that wretched ball. She’d have been blissfully happy as Besnik’s wife. But now? It wouldn’t be fair to him when her heart, though mangled, belonged to another. Laying her hand on his muscled arm, she offered a nascent smile. “Thank you, but no. My heart is too full of him. You deserve someone who will love you with her whole heart.”
He accepted her rejection with the merest inclination of his raven head. “I thought as much, but I wanted to be sure.” He looked around. “Where is your jakkel?”
“Ailsa is playing with Lancelot.”
His gaze followed the fair-haired lass as she darted through the encampment with her usual entourage of children. As if sensing his perusal, she looked up. She smiled and waved cheerily before continuing on her way.
“She’d make a good wife, Besnik.” Vangie had seen the yearning looks Ailsa gave him.
“It is easier to milk a cow that stands still,” he said frowning. “With that one, I’d not have a moment’s peace.”
Grinning—her first heartfelt smile in days—she stole a sideways glance at him. The twitching of his lips and the intensity aglow in his eyes were far more revealing than the words of denial he spoke.
He rose then helped her to her feet. “There will be dancing tonight. Will you join us?”
She shook her head. “No. I’m sorry.” She couldn’t. Not yet.
“In time, nukkidai.” After squeezing her shoulder, he turned to go.
“Thank you, Besnik.”
He stopped, bending his mouth into an understanding smile. Shrugging his wide shoulders, he said, “Ma-sha-llah. As God wills.”
Her gaze trailed him as he swiftly made his way to Yoska’s vardo. He was a good man. Far better than the fops she’d met in London. She relaxed against a tree trunk, observing Ailsa and her playful antics with the children and Lancelot. Yes, indeed. The bubbly maid might be exactly what the gypsy king needed.
A dust cloud on the horizon drew her attention. Numerous riders grew closer. It wasn’t unusual for the Roma to have visitors. Truth be told, it was quite common, even expected. Nonetheless, uneasiness gripped her. Guests didn’t stampede into the camp. They approached respectfully and waited for an invitation to enter. These visitors didn’t bode well. She folded the letter and tucked it into the pocket of her skirt.
Where was Ian? She must find him at once. Her intuition screamed something was wrong. Hurrying to the front of the wagon, she searched the encampment. Lifting her skirt, she ran to the improvised corral. Upon seeing her approach, he excused himself and ducked beneath the rope.
