My Own True Love (4 page)

Strong hands came around her waist, and turned her. As she faced the man who held her a flash of details rose out of her memory. A fox face. Sharp blue cat's eyes. Raven black hair. Memory mixed with vision as her gaze met Toma the Magnificent's. She reached up, tracing a finger unthinkingly along the angle of one wide-set cheekbone, down to the tip of his sharply pointed chin. His flesh was warm, smooth, flushed with exertion.

He was smiling, bright blue eyes full of laughter and triumph. "Sara. I knew you'd be here."

She knew him!

In her dreams she'd always known him.

A hand tangled in her hair, drawing her closer. His mouth covered hers and thought was swiftly lost to sensation. His lips and tongue filled her with heat while his hand moved over her back and hips with distracting skill. The tips of her breasts grew hard against his bare chest as she found herself pressed close against him. Her bare toes curled in the warm dust of the enclosure and her arms came around him.

Her hands slid up the slick length of his back, tracing the wiry, corded muscles of his shoulders and arms.

Silky hair caressed her cheek. The scent of smoke and spice filled her nostrils. Her tongue twined playfufly with his and she could feel his surprise as she answered his demanding skill with her own.

He pulled away from kissing her. "Sara?"

"Hmmm?" she responded as she slowly opened her eyes. Her body was flooded with the heady rush of sensation. Her body. Yes, definitely her body. Never mind what she'd said about this body belonging to somebody else; this arousal belonged to her.

He was still holding her tightly around the waist. She looked up into Toma's bright blue eyes. Eyes full of concern, and sensual promises. Maybe this was her own true love after all.

She was almost ready to thank the ring when her attention was distracted by the sound of giggling.

Childish giggling. Oh, right. Beth. She eased herself away from Toma and turned to look at the girl.

"Is this who I was supposed to meet?" she questioned needlessly.

She looked back at Toma, who gently ran a finger across her lips. Lips still sensitized by the intensity of their kiss. She felt an odd clutching at her heart and recognized it as jealousy because he'd been kissing a Sara who wasn't her.

Toma's glance moved past her, to the still-laughing Beth. "What are you doing here, mud lark?" he asked the girl.

Beth rubbed her fingers together suggestively. "I'm a proper chaperon ... until I get paid."

"You're a rascal and a thief," he told her.

"I should 'ope so," the girl answered back. She bounced to her feet. She gave a sly smile that Sara found totally unsuited to her young face. "For another coin I'll stand lookout for Beng."

"Beng?" Sara asked. "Who's Beng?"

Toma looked at her strangely.

"She's dizzy again," Beth explained. "Found her out front during the show."

"I saw you," he said to Sara. "You looked as if you were going to eat me, little one," he added with a slow smile.

A pair of small coins appeared in his hand. He tossed them to Beth while Sara wondered just where in his tights there could possibly be room for pockets. Beth caught the coins and quickly ducked out into the alley.

Now that she was alone with Toma, Sara wasn't sure what to do next. She knew what she was tempted to do. She wanted to start by kissing him again. He certainly didn't look as if he'd mind. He stepped away from her, and she put her hands firmly behind her back as he went over to the water barrel. She knew what she should do. Was going to do. She was going to make the ring take her home.

It was best to leave it at just one memorable kiss.

She couldn't take her eyes off him, even as she sternly reminded herself she didn't really know this man. He thought she was someone else. He picked up the cup and doused his chest and head a few times.

"I smell like a pig," he said as he grabbed a dry cloth and began scrubbing his chest and hair. "I'd like a bath, but I'd better hurry up and change. Beng's bound to show up. No use making more trouble by having him find me half-naked with his daughter," he added. He gave her another warm look. "Or completely naked." He took a step toward her. "It's very tempting. 1 didn't realize you knew how to kiss.

Here I was trying to take you by surprise and—"

"You've never kissed her before?" The words escaped before Sara could stop them. She hadn't liked the thought of Toma and the other Sara being lovers. It wasn't jealousy, she told herself. It would just be more weirdness than she could handle, that was all.

Puzzlement crossed his sharp-featured face. "Kissed who?"

"Her. I mean me. You've never kissed me before?"

Toma smirked. "If I had you'd remember. And don't worry about getting your words mixed up," he added kindly. "I did too when I was the gypsy half-breed at the charity school. You speak the
gajos'

language better all the time. I'm a better teacher than Beth," he added in Romany. "Better at lots of things."

"I bet," she mumbled in reply, her hand covering her mouth to keep the words from reaching him.

He went to the chest and took out a white shirt. He pulled it on, belted it, and added a dark blue vest.

His hair was drying quickly in the hot sunlight. He shook out the dark, silky locks and tied a blue headband around his forehead. Sara found the effect piratical, and perfect for him. She hadn't failed to notice the bone-handled knife sheathed on his belt, either. The weapon helped remind her that she really wasn't in the twentieth century. Toma, she told herself, was probably a dangerous young man. She wished she didn't find the idea intriguing; it spoiled her own civilized image of herself.

"Have you talked to Beng yet?" he asked as he finished dressing.

She'd gotten the idea Beng was the other Sara's father. She wondered what she was supposed to talk to him about.

"No," she answered truthfully. "What should I say?"

She hoped the leading question would give her some clue to what was going on. She could ask the ring, but it had been quiet since Beth had led her to Toma. She rather liked it that way. She couldn't spend too much more time with Toma. Better to give him her full attention than to be distracted by the ring's asinine comments.

Beth came racing in before Toma could answer. "Sandor brought ‘im!" she exclaimed. She grabbed Sara's hand and pulled. "Sara, 'ide! "E'll beat you for sure this time. 'E said 'e would!"

The little girl looked panic-stricken. So Sara did the first thing that came to mind: she hugged her.

"It's okay," she soothed the girl. "No one's going to hurt anybody. Calm down, sweetheart."

Beth struggled in her embrace. Sara and Toma's glances met over the little girl's dirty head. A gleam of warm affection showed briefly in Toma's eyes before he turned swiftly at the sound of a roar.

"Sara!" a deep masculine voice shouted from the entrance.

Sara pushed Beth behind her and turned to confront whoever it was.

"Dad?" she questioned in confusion when she saw the angry figure framed in the gap in the flimsy wooden wall. The man was a bit shorter than the twentieth-century version of her father, the shoulders were wider, the eyes were brown instead of blue. But the face was the same. The stance was the same.

The paternal outrage was similar to that time after the senior prom when he'd caught her and Joe Malkos

...

"Dad?" she repeated as the spitting image of her father strode furiously toward her, large hand raised to strike her. Beth cowered behind her. She saw Toma reaching for his knife.

She planted her hands on her hips and shouted, "What do you think you're doing?"

He responded to her tone if not her words. He dropped his hand to his side. "What are you doing here?" he demanded. He pointed at Toma. "Haven't I told you to stay away from this Calderash filth?"

Before she could respond Toma stepped between her and the angry Rom father.

"She's here because I asked her here. We are chaperoned," he added.

Beth sidled around Sara and spoke up. "I wouldn't let 'im touch Sara, Beng."

"A
gajo
girl is no chaperon," Beng told Toma. "You leave my girl alone. No decent man will want her if you're seen with her."

"A decent man already wants her," Toma answered.

Beng bristled. "Sara, we're going. There's work for you," he added. He jerked a thumb toward the opening. "You're wanted."

There were two large men waiting in the alley, their hulking forms just visible beyond the gap in the wall. Waiting for her? '

Sara didn't know what to do. Beth grabbed her hand and began her insistent tugging again. "You're wanted. Can't keep 'em waitin'."

"I..." Sara began.

Toma said, "Stay." He didn't take his eyes off Beng.

"We're going with the
gajo,"
Beng told her.

"Not until we're through," Toma said.

"She doesn't listen to a half-breed Calderash."

Toma took a step closer to Beng. He was more lightly built than the broad-shouldered man, but Sara had no doubt about which of the two was the more dangerous.

"Don't push him, Beng," she suggested. She definitely didn't want these two fighting over her, or whoever it was they were fighting over.

Toma put his hands on his narrow hips and said calmly, "I have no family here, no mother to make arrangements. I have no one but myself who can speak, and Sara has no mother, so it must be between you and me."

"I do not hear you," Beng countered, his jaw set stubbornly. "Sara will leave now."

Sara stayed where she was, between Toma and Beng, and the strangers beyond the wall. She didn't know what was going on as she watched their confrontation, but she didn't like it. Beth continued to tug on her skirts, trying to get her to obey Beng. She ignored the girl. She didn't know who wanted to see her, but she wasn't going anywhere.

Toma shot her a quick, reassuring smile before addressing Beng once more. "I know Sara's value, and am more than willing to pay it. I ask for her hand in marriage, as the
gajos
say."

Beng went red with outrage; then he spat on the ground at Toma's feet. "You don't get her hand. You don't get nothing, Calderash."

"Marriage?" Sara asked, going hot and cold with pleasure and stunned disbelief. She gaped at the men. Both of them were staring at her. Hope and encouragement shone in Toma's eyes.

"Marriage," she repeated hoarsely. "Wait a minute." She spoke to the ring more than to the watching men. "Own true loves are one thing, but who said anything about marriage?"

Sara shook her hand.
"Are you broken? Are you listening to me?" Beth was still tugging on her arm.

One of the hulks appeared in the doorway and crooked a commanding finger at her. Beng was herding her toward the exit. She could feel Toma's beseeching gaze on her.

"Hurry up," Beng ordered.

"Marry me," Toma repeated.

Sara moved toward the menacing figure blocking the doorway. She was afraid that if she didn't, the anxious Beng was going to start nipping at her heels like an exasperated border collie.

"Sara," Toma called, but she didn't look back at him. She could still taste his kiss; the memory of it was almost more disturbing than the unknown menace waiting by the wall. It wasn't her he wanted to marry, she firmly reminded herself. He wanted the other girl. The ring may have misplaced her in time, but that was as far as her own involvement went.

"Who are these guys?" she asked as she was urged forward. Nobody answered. Most annoyingly, the ring didn't answer. Hell of a time for its batteries to go dead, she thought as she reached the gate.

The big man standing there turned an evil grin on her. "'Allow, Sara. The missus says you're shy but she wants to 'ave a little talk. So me and Billy come to fetch you personal."

"How kind," Sara said, "but I don't think—"

The big man looked past Sara to Beth. "The gypsies must be feeding you, girl. You look like you've grown tall enough to set yourself up on the game. Tall don't matter none if you're lying down, does it?"

He laughed at his own wit while Beth disappeared behind Sara's skirts. Sara felt the girl's hands clutching tensely at the worn fabric as she hid behind her. Having watched a great deal of British television on PBS Sara recalled that "on the game" was slang for prostitution. What the man had just suggested was disgusting.

To divert the man's attention from the frightened child, Sara gently pushed Beth away and said, "Let's go."

He nodded. "Come on, then. She don't need no company," the man added when Beng would have joined them. "She's just going to see me missus."

“Women's business," Beng agreed reluctantly. "You just talk to the Cummings woman and no one else, girl," he ordered Sara before backing away.

Leaving Beth and the unsettled situation with Toma and Beng behind, she went down the alley with the

stranger. The one he'd called Billy, a tall, heavyset teenager, followed close behind. The pair moved closer to her when they left the alley for the crowded paths of the fairgrounds. They obviously had no intention of letting her slip away from them. Just what did they want with her anyway?

She was alone with them in a narrow street beyond the noise and color of the fair before it occurred to her that this was a really bad idea. She'd been too worried about all the undercurrents and overt threats in the mixed-up situation to think about any danger to herself. Danger? Here she was stuck in 1811 with a malfunctioning magic ring and she hadn't thought about being in danger?

"I am so stupid sometimes," she muttered as she looked around, trying to find a way to slip away from the men.

Much to her relief the first thing she saw when she looked up was Toma, leaning with his arms crossed against the corner of a building they were approaching. She didn't know how the acrobat had gotten to the corner before them, but she found the confident way he pushed himself away from the wall and swaggered up to them infinitely reassuring.

"Sastipe,"
he said, falling in step beside her.

"'Ere, now," her big escort protested. "Who asked you along?"