Claiming the Forbidden Bride

Surprised, her eyes came up, as she debated whether or not to tell him the truth. And then, deciding that it couldn’t possibly matter if he knew, she did. ‘My name is Nadya Argentari.’

‘Your servant, Miss Argentari.’ He repeated her earlier gesture, making rather more of it than she had.

‘Somehow I doubt that, my lord.’

‘Major,’ he corrected again.

‘Major Morgan. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have other patients who seem to still be in need of my skills this morning.’

‘But none, I assure you, who will be more grateful for them.’

‘No matter your denial, I see that you are indeed a milord.’

‘A simple soldier, ma’am, I assure you. And quite willingly at your service.’

He inclined his head slightly. Despite all her strictures to the contrary, Nadya found her senses once more stirred.

Like a schoolgirl taken with the first handsome gentleman she encounters.

Or at least the first she had encountered in a very long time, Nadya admitted. And, she reiterated, this time strictly to herself, the sooner he is gone, the better it will be for everyone concerned.

Especially for me.

Chapter Five

The following morning Nadya was surprised to discover her half-brother back in camp. As she crossed the centre of the compound, she saw one of the men taking Stephanos black stallion to the horse pens to be cared for. Sadly, the animal appeared to be in need of the attention.

Riding his mount to exhaustion was not something Stephano would normally have done, but the act was typical of his single-mindedness of late. Consumed with events in his past, he was, in her opinion, abdicating his current responsibilities.

Not that he was interested in her opinion.

If only his lack of interest might extend to her activities.

Taking a deep breath, she walked toward her grandmother’s caravan. There was no sense in postponing the confrontation she knew would occur. She had deliberately disobeyed Stephano’s orders, and he would demand an explanation. And she had none, other than the one he’d already rejected.

As she approached Magda’s caravan, eyes on the ground, her half-brother jumped down from it and came toward her. She saw that he had been in camp long enough to change out of his gadje attire and back into the traditional garb of their people.

The small gold earring he wore when in camp glinted in the sun. The colourful vest, long-sleeved shirt and loose trousers were exactly the same as those worn by the other men, but Stephano’s good looks and air of confidence would make him stand out anywhere.

Even among the English Ton he professed to despise, she thought with a small sense of pride.

Today, nothing about his appearance suggested his mixed heritage. And when he was with the Rom, that was exactly the way Stephano wanted it.

When he reached her, there was no kiss of greeting, as there usually was between them. Apparently her half-brother had already discovered that the Englishman was still here.

The first words out of his mouth confirmed that impression.’I told you to get rid of him.’

‘And I told you he’ll leave as soon as he’s well enough.’

‘He’s well enough now.’

Without slowing, Stephano strode past her and toward her caravan, so that Nadya was forced to run to catch up with him. She grabbed his arm, but he shook her off.

‘Listen to me.’ This time she used both hands to grasp his wrist, holding tightly enough that he would have had to use force to free himself. She was relieved when he turned toward her instead.

Although his face was closed, Nadya tried once more to argue her case. ‘The man saved Angel’s life. Surely that means something to you, if for no other reason than because it means so much to me.’

The hard black eyes softened almost imperceptibly. If she had not known him so well, however, she might not have been able to tell her argument had had any impact. The stern lines of Stephano’s face hadn’t altered.

Which shouldn’t be surprising, she conceded, considering he’d had a lifetime of practice in not revealing what he felt.

‘Magda says he’s well enough to leave,’ her brother said.

‘The next time you suffer an injury, shall I let Magda decide your treatment?’

His lips tightened, but he didn’t dispute her point. She was the drabarni. Questions about healing were her domain, not that of their grandmother.

‘But he is conscious?’ Stephano demanded.

‘Yes.’

‘So who is he?’

‘His name is Rhys Morgan. He’s an ex-soldier, recently returned from Spain.’ She couldn’t see how revealing what his service had cost the Englishman could advance her cause. Stephano had grown so hard that he might instead take those wounds as a sign of weakness.

‘And?’

‘That’s all I know. That and the fact he was travelling to his godfather’s house when he rescued Angel.’

As she mentioned Rhys’s godfather, she realized that her half-brother would be the ideal person to deliver his message. Not only would he be returning to London shortly, he also knew the ways of the gadje and, because of that, would be less likely to raise concerns within Rhys’s family.

‘He asked me to find someone to deliver a note to him.’ She removed the folded paper Rhys had given her from her pocket and held it out to him.

‘To his godfather? Did he mention a name?’

‘Keddinton, I believe.’

‘Keddinton? Are you sure?’

The name had meant nothing to Nadya, but clearly it did to her half-brother. He unfolded the paper to read what Rhys had written, the gesture revealing the silver bracelet her father had made for him.

‘Do you know him?’

Stephano laughed. ‘I don’t travel in the elevatedcircles Lord Keddinton occupies. Not any more.’The bitterness of the last was apparent.

‘Then.?’

‘I know of him,’ he clarified, closing Rhys’s note. ‘So would you if you weren’t so concerned with your “daughter” and your herbs.’