One of the gypsy men laughed, his teeth a white flash in the gloom, but she ignored him and glared at Colter, a mixture of anger and fear making her heart thump madly. They drew the attention of others in the camp, but she refused to retreat, shaking her head and avoiding his reaching hand.
Colter moved swiftly, like a striking snake, to grab her by the arm, fingers steely even through the thick folds of the wool cape.
“Jesus, it’s too damn cold to stand out here and argue, Celia, so just cooperate for the moment while I try to work out something else.”
“I won’t stay here,” she repeated. “You have to think of another plan, Colter, you must.”
“Get into the wagon and we’ll talk.” He pulled her up the four steep steps, then inside, and left her with a promise to come right back. “I’ll talk to Santiago. Stay here where it’s warm and I’ll be back in a moment.”
But when he returned, she found to her dismay that the something else he had worked out was not at all agreeable.
“Please,” she hissed. “Reconsider! If you leave me here, any hope I ever had of salvaging some of my reputation will be ruined. Isn’t it bad enough that you dragged me from the theater, then to a…a house of prostitution? Now you intend to leave me with gypsies and God only knows when I’ll see you again. Take me back to London. I’d rather take my chances there!”
They were alone in the cramped quarters of the wagon, a wheeled hut that held a bed, tiny table and storage in drawers built under the bed and along the walls. Windows wore gaily colored curtains, and personal items indicated the owner was a man.
“Be quiet,” Colter said with a scowl, “and don’t insult Santiago’s hospitality. No one will think to look for you here. Christ, Celia, I can’t keep you safe in London when I’m not even certain who attacked you. I thought I knew, but I was wrong.”
She stared at him, distress making her voice quaver slightly. “How long would I have to stay here?”
One corner of his mouth tucked into a grimace. “Just long enough for me to take care of what I have to do.”
“That could be weeks!”
“A lifetime if you’re in danger. Look, Celia, I don’t claim that you’ll be happy here, but it won’t be as bad as you think. Santiago will look after you. He’s fiercely loyal to me, and has agreed to keep you out of harm’s way.”
“I seem to recall his daughter putting me in harm’s way,” she snapped, and when he only looked amused, she added acidly, “But, of course, if you think putting me on a horse that could have very well killed me is keeping me safe, who am I to argue?”
“You’re reacting with emotion instead of logic. Marita took you at your word when you said you could ride.”
?
?A horse that wasn’t even trained!”
“But you did it.” He gave her an odd look, half admiring. “If you hadn’t ridden into gunfire, nothing would have happened.”
It was obvious he wouldn’t listen. She pressed her lips tightly together.
“I’m leaving early in the morning, Celia. You’ll stay here,” he said shortly, “and I want your word you’ll not try to leave until I come back for you.”
“I have no intention of promising any such thing!” It wasn’t just the fact that he was leaving her behind that was distressing, it was the uncertainty of it, the fear and the knowledge that someone—a complete stranger—wanted to hurt her. How could she ever feel safe again? And, how did she keep from telling him that she felt safe only with him, that if he left her behind she would be afraid?
His hand shot out to grasp her by the wrist, and he held her tightly, his face angry. “Bloody hell, this is no game we’re playing. Men attacked you. If given the chance, they may do so again. Is that what you want to risk?”
“No, of course not.” Her lower lip trembled slightly before she could stop it. She didn’t try to pull away from him but remained still, watching his face as she said softly, “I’d rather risk danger with you if I must risk it at all.”
His gaze flickered, but he didn’t look away. “I can’t do what I have to do if I’m worried about you, Celia. If I know you’re safe I can do what must be done. It’s quicker this way, believe me.”
She did believe him. Even if he hadn’t told her everything, he hadn’t really lied to her. She was the only one who had been dishonest, and when the time was right, she’d tell him everything, about her mother and his father and the reason she’d come to England. She’d tell him all, sparing no details.
It was burdensome living a lie. These past three months had put her on edge far too often. The risk of being found out, and the necessity of hiding the truth had taken a toll. And there was the guilt over being dishonest with people who cared about her. It was time she stopped it, time she told Jacqueline, and time she told Colter.
But not just yet, not until he came back for her, until she knew he was safe and all this was behind him. Until she knew who had tried to hurt her and why.
“Very well,” she said. “I’ll stay here and not try to leave. But come back quickly, Colter. I won’t be able to bear it while you’re gone.”
His brow quirked. “Lovely little liar, you won’t miss me at all.”
Yes, she swore silently. I will miss you more than I want to admit.