Margaret stood on the small balcony beside her bedroom, gazing over the mountains and feeling the cool breeze sweep through the valley, over the water, and into the villa. Her eyes were drawn uncontrollably toward the gypsy's camp and the soft glow of their fires. There was no music floating on the wind and no laughter soaring over the trees. Her sleeping gown clung to her, the lace moving against her now sensitive breasts and nipples. The movement sparked her newly awakened sex. The throbbing between her legs was unending. Lila's dance had stirred those swollen lips and her fingers had finally teased them. The thoughts caused her blood to circle back and forth in her body, following the path that Lila's mouth had taken twice. She had sent Lila away that afternoon, after the man the gypsies called Quinn had interrupted them, but she had regretted it a thousand times. She had started down the path toward the gypsy camp half a dozen times only to remind herself that she should not torment herself with what she could not keep.
"Mistress?" a soft voice asked. Elaine, of childhood laughter and adult servitude, stood behind her employer. Elaine, who moved like a ghost through the house, doing things that Margaret never thought about having to be done, stood a few steps behind Margaret. "Your bed is ready."
Margaret did not answer immediately. She continued to stare at the flickering light of the gypsies' fires. "Elaine, have you ever been with a man?" She paused, but not enough time for the servant to answer. "Don't talk to me as the Mistress of Ravendorf. Talk to me as the friend you used to play with."
Elaine did not answer right away, but Margaret could not bring herself to turn around and face her old friend. "I have," was the woman's final, quiet answer.
"I haven't," Margaret answered. "Did your mother talk to you about . . . what it would be like?"
"Some, but I learned most of what I knew from the girls in town. They told me what it was like for them, so I knew what to expect."
"Was it what you expected?"
Elaine waited again, carefully forming her answer. "More than I expected," she finally decided. "I understand if you are nervous about marrying Master Phillip. I know that he will be gentle with you on your wedding night." She hesitated. When her hand curled over Margaret's shoulder, the Mistress of Ravendorf jumped. "Would you like to ask me some questions?"
Margaret lowered her eyes from the distant fires. She had many questions, most of them raised in the last few days by the exotic gypsy with the dark eyes. Margaret knew she would be unsatisfied with answers from anyone except Lila. "Thank you."
"Will that be all, Miss?" Elaine questioned softly.
Margaret wanted to say no. She didn't want to be left alone with the energy and feelings flowing through her body, but she could think of no legitimate reason to keep Elaine at her side. "Rest well," she muttered, wondering which fire Lila crouched beside.
Elaine retreated quietly, as she always did. Margaret wondered how Elaine managed to move throughout Ravendorf like a spirit. Even that mystery could not hold her attention, though. She moved away from the window and lay down on the bed, letting the breeze waft over her from the mountains. She shifted, trying to find a position that offered her some relief. The lace of the gown brushed and rubbed against her sensitive nipples, making her breasts feel heavier. That slight scratching connected to her belly and the damp spot between her legs.
She rolled to her back, raising her knees and allowing the long gown to fall to her waist. She glided her hand along the inside of her thigh, toward the moist juncture of her thighs. She thought of how Lila's hand had caressed her so softly. She worked her hands up to her thatch of thick curls, unsurprised to find them damp. She combed her fingertips through the forest, thinking of Lila's smooth mound and wondering what it would feel like. Her fingertips danced along the slit between her throbbing lips and she felt her nipples tighten even more. A groan of pleasure escaped her lips, surprising herself. She yanked her hand away and sat up, her face flushed. She had to stop thinking about Lila.
She pushed her gown down and stood up, pacing the floor of the room, her thoughts wondering. Her mind bounced. Her body yearned. There was one thing that would distract her from Lila. She grabbed her robe and pushed out of her bedroom, padding quietly down the hall. She tiptoed passed her father's room and paused outside of Phillip's bedroom. The only thing that would make her forget Lila's touch was some one else's touch. She would offer herself to her husband-to-be, even though their wedding was still days away. He would make love to her and his love would drive the thought of Lila's passion far away.
She lifted her fist to rap her knuckles against the hard wood of the door, but hesitated before she tapped. Phillip would welcome her into his bed. She was certain he would receive her, but it wouldn't make her forget Lila. It might make him lose respect for her. She could live with her yearnings for a few days.
She trailed her fingers over the wood, her mind and body whirling. Her knees trembling slightly with desire and need, she returned to her room. She crossed to the balcony again, looking across at the soft glow of the fires of the gypsy camp. She imagined Lila kneeling beside one of those fires. Her dark skin would be warm from the heat radiating from the pit. The flames would cast dancing illuminations on her face. The smoke would snake into her thick, dark hair and the smell would linger as they moved away from the fire into the darkness of a tent.
Margaret started when her bare feet touched the cool grass. She wasn't even aware that she had climbed over the balcony and scampered down the trellis. In her vivid imagination, she had blocked out the real world. Her body longed for Lila so much that it had taken control of her actions. She hesitated, gripping the lattice work in her fingers and staring up at the balcony. She shook her head and tried to pull back up to her room. Her eyes drifted over her shoulder to the dark forest. She could feel Lila's touch on her skin and imagine the woman's voice whispering in her ear. Lila was calling to her.
She disentangled herself from the lattice and sprinted across the courtyard. She didn't even pause in the rose garden to seek her mother's direction. She tore through the soft blanket of the woods, the soles of her feet crunching on the bed of dry leaves. She reached the lake and steered toward the gypsy camp, her feet kicking sand either direction. She was breathless by the time she reached the edge of the gypsy camp. She skidded to a halt and crouched behind a bush, her eyes skimming the camp activity for her heart's desire.
A group of men and town ladies were laughing together on one side of the camp. Her eyes studied every face, making certain that Lila was not among the harlots. Quinn was sitting on a tree stump with a girl on each knee. He had his arms around their waists and was taking turns being kissed by them. Neither woman was Lila. One tent's flaps were folded back, revealing the dancing shadows of a lantern on the face of the older man who led the gypsies. He was Lila's father. Did she still share a tent with her parents? Margaret pinched her lips together, trying to decide what to do.
Even as she was contemplating returning to the manor, a rustle at the side of the camp attracted her attention. Lila emerged from a tent on the outskirts of the camp. Margaret felt her breath catch and restrained herself from making a dash across the open camp. The ladies from town might see her though, and word would drift back to her father and Phillip.
She watched as Lila drifted to one of the fires. The gypsy woman seemed to float. Margaret could feel her heart pounding in her ears in excitement and anticipation. Lila bent near the fire, her dress spread around her, and reached for a pot. The Roma poured herself a cup of coffee. Keeping to the shadows and not allowing her eyes to drift away from Lila, Margaret maneuvered herself around the camp toward the now vacant tent. Quinn called Lila's name and she turned her attention to the big man. Margaret was too far away to hear their words. She reached the empty tent and carefully slipped through the flaps.
Her heart was drumming even harder now. She couldn't catch her breath. She placed her hands on her knees, fighting all her conflicting emotions. She was here. She would not flee. She took a deep breath and managed to stand, looking around the sparse tent. A lantern cast a soft glow over part of the room that shifted as the wind rustled. There was a soft pallet of quilts in the corner and Margaret knew that it would hold Lila's heavy smell. A trunk made a table and chair.
She jumped when the flap opened suddenly. "Listen, baby, I appreciate the offer, but I told Quinn I wasn't interested. You are off the hook. Go on."
Margaret turned toward the voice, confusion on her face. Lila stopped talking, taking two steps to close the distance between them. She grabbed Margaret's hands. "What are you doing here?"
Margaret's mouth moved wordlessly. She didn't know why she was there and she was so overcome with emotion that words would not form anyway. She pushed toward the gypsy, pressing her body to Lila's and lifting to her tiptoes to press her lips to Lila's. Lila only hesitated a second before returning the kiss. Their lips met firmly. Margaret tilted her head and parted her lips, sucking on Lila's lower lip. Lila slipped her tongue between Margaret's open lips, swirling and exploring tenderly. Margaret lifted her arms and wrapped them around Lila's neck. Lila's arms locked around Margaret's waist as they deepened their kiss.
When they finally pulled away, Margaret was still breathless. She laid her head on Lila's shoulder. "I couldn't stay away. I couldn't stop thinking about you."
A tender expression crossed Lila's face as she stroked Margaret's hair. "Don't be foolish."
