Claiming the Forbidden Bride. Gayle Wilson

materials she’d promised the Englishman in the pocket of her apron. ‘He doesn’t remember what happened with Angel or how he came to be here.’

      ‘He doesn’t remember saving her?’

      ‘No. And I’m not sure it’s to our advantage to tell him.’

      ‘As it stands now, he believes he’s beholden to you. Magda had immediately grasped her dilemma.’If you tell him what he did for your daughter, the shoe is on the other foot.’

      ‘Exactly.’

      ‘And yet you feel like a cheat for not telling him.’

      Nadya looked up at the old woman, marvellingagain at how easily she was able to read her thoughts. ‘He deserves my gratitude, Mami. If he hadn’t been there…’A tightness in her throat prevented her from finishing the thought.

      ‘It wasn’t only that he was there, chavi. According to the girl, he put his life at risk to save Angel.’

      ‘I know. And for a child he didn’t know. A child who was nothing to him.’

      ‘An English child. One of his own kind,’ Magda reminded her.’If your daughter had looked like you, chavi, I wonder if he would have gone into the water to rescue her.’

      Nadya couldn’t argue with what her grandmother was suggesting. She had lived her entire life with the kind of unthinking prejudice that held her people to be less worthy of every measure of respect accorded to the fairer-skinned population among whom they lived.

      ‘What do you think?’ Magda asked.

      ‘About what?’Without meeting her grandmother’s eyes, Nadya wiped the rim of the bowl she’d just filled with the edge of her apron.

      ‘Do you think he would have done that for another child? For Tara? Or Racine?’

      ‘How should I know what the gaujo would do? All I know is what he did.’

      ‘And that’s enough for you?’

      ‘It’s enough for today,’ Nadya said as she straightened.

      ‘And for tomorrow?’

      ‘Tomorrow he’ll be gone, and I won’t have to wonder about him ever again.’

      The dark, far-seeing eyes of her grandmother held on hers. Then the thin lips, surrounded by their network of fine lines lifted, curving at the corners.’There are lies more believable than the truth, chavi. The one you just told isn’t one of them.’

      ‘Your old sayings may work with the gadje, Mami, who are willing to believe anything you tell them. You’ve forgotten who you’re talking to. Besides, Stephano has decreed I have to get rid of the Englishman before he returns.’

      ‘When have you ever worried about obeying Stephano’s orders? Except when they track with your own desires.’

      ‘Then isn’t it convenient that in this case they do? Go peddle your fortunes to the villagers. We shall need their shillings come winter.’

      ‘Before it, if we keep feeding strangers.’ One dark brow rose in challenge, but the old woman’s grin widened.

      And when Nadya turned to take the gaujo’s breakfast to him, she, too, was smiling.

      As she rounded the corner of her vardo, she discovered the Englishman dressed and sitting on its high seat. Flat on his back, he had sent her normally unflappable senses reeling. Upright, he proved to be even more of a threat to them.

      Much the worse for its recent immersion as well as for the now-mended mutilation she’d performed on it, the lawn shirt was stretched across a pair of broad shoulders. She had removed his cravat when she undressed him. He hadn’t bothered to replace it today, so that the strong brown column of his neck was visible at the open throat.

      ‘Out for the sun?’ She shaded her eyes with her free hand to look up at it.

      ‘I thought it was past time I was up.’

      ‘Then you’ve discovered the answer to your question.’

      ‘My question?’

      ‘About when you’ll be well enough to ride.’

      His lips flattened, but he didn’t respond to her teasing. She waited a moment, unsure what had just happened, and then held the bowl she carried up to him.

      ‘Do English lords eat porridge?’

      ‘I’m sure they do.’The green eyes again held a trace of amusement.

      ‘Do you?’

      ‘I have been known to partake of porridge. When I was lucky enough to have it at hand.’

      ‘Then…’ She lifted the bowl a little higher.

      He hesitated a moment before he reached down to take her offering. ‘I’ll be more than happy to pay you for whatever you’ve expended on my care. If you’ll provide me with—’

      She wasn’t sure what he saw in her face, but whatever it was stopped him in mid-sentence. ‘It’s porridge,’she said. ‘We’ve plenty of it. And no matter what you’ve heard, we aren’t accustomed to charging our guests for their food.’

      ‘I’m hardly a guest.’

      According to his lights, he was right. He didn’t remember what he’d done to earn her gratitude, and she had thus far, for her own selfish reasons, chosen not to tell him. But it was past time for the truth.

      ‘You are my guest. An honoured one. For as long as you wish to stay.’

      ‘That’s very kind, but—’

      ‘You saved my daughter’s life,’ she interrupted. ‘At considerable risk to your own.’

      ‘Your daughter? Angel?’

      ‘She’d fallen into a stream, and you rescued her. I’m not sure when or how you struck your head, but it was in the course of that rescue.’

      ‘She told you that? I thought.’

      ‘The girl who was supposed to be watching her witnessed it all. You still don’t remember?’

      A furrow appeared between his brows as if he were trying to. Finally he shook his head.

      ‘None of it. I remember riding out that morning, revelling in the freedom of being in the saddle, and then… I remember being placed on a cart. At least I think I do. That may have been something else—’ Again he hesitated.

      ‘Something else?’

      It seemed the Englishman, too, had things he’d chosen not to reveal, but she couldn’t imagine what. If he remembered the rescue, then in his situation, it would be to his advantage to lay claim to his heroic actions.

      ‘Another memory, perhaps. I remember thinking at the time that I was being carried from the field. And then. then I thought I must have dreamed it.’

      ‘The field? A battlefield? You were a soldier?’

      ‘Better or worse than being a lord? ‘The amusement was back.

      ‘From my perspective? I suppose that would depend on whether or not you were a wealthy soldier.’

      ‘Another disappointment, I’m afraid. All the wealthy soldiers were lords. It takes a great deal of money to buy a commission these days.’ He spooned a bite of the porridge, blowing on it before he put it into his mouth.

      ‘Ah, well,’ she comforted as she watched him, ‘I suppose you’ll just have to share porridge with the rest of us then.’

      ‘And very good porridge it is, too. Thank you.’ He lifted the spoon in a small salute before he used it to secure another bite. ‘For this and everything else.’

      ‘I