anyone to hold onto before. Arabel smiled into the fabric of his jacket and a sense of delicious enjoyment overtook her. This, she realized, was the heady delight of infatuation.
Eli was very aware of Arabel’s arms around his waist and he wished he could return her embrace, although he couldn’t very well turn around just then and kiss her as he’d like. Soon, he promised himself. He hadn’t slept well last night. He’d been haunted by visions of Arabel and her enticing beauty. In the dream she’d been entreating him to kiss her, to make love to her. And he’d been resisting. More fool, I, Eli thought now, grinning in the dark, her hands warm against his belly.
The moon hung high overhead and their way was facilitated by its pale white light. Once they’d entered the woods Eli slowed Jovah down to a canter and farther in he walked him. Eli hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d told Arabel there was mud. There was, and as promised, an abundance of it. There’d been too much rain lately and it had turned this part of the forest into a veritable mud pit. Arabel was glad of her sturdy black boots as they’d withstand the muddiest of conditions but she’d be holding her riding habit up as high as it would go to prevent ruining the hem.
There were lights in the distance and Arabel could hear the beat of a drum. The forest was alive with people and activity and her heart leapt in excitement. She was here, deep in the forest to search the Gypsy lair and her adventurous spirit revelled in the knowledge. Arabel was so used to being alone that it felt strange to have a companion. But this new sensation of partnership she took in stride, it had fallen into place so effortlessly; she would do nothing to jinx it.
They dismounted a short distance away from the cluster of caravans and Arabel looked around in amazement. Torches burned every few feet and the main meeting ground was filled with brightly dressed women and men. The Gypsies were sitting on benches sharing stories or playing card games of chance around fold-up tables, and children; everywhere there were children, running through the trees playing chasing games or sitting on wide laps with satisfied grins.
A dog or two scampered between the children and a cat meowed nearby for scraps from a spit being turned by a toothless old man. He nodded to them and Eli returned the motion. Everywhere Arabel looked, the forest teemed with life, with energy, with spirit. Arabel found she was smiling as she surveyed the scene.
“How magical it is!” she whispered.
Eli took Arabel’s hand and led her through the maze of Gypsies and down a side path well worn and slightly less muddy. They walked past groups of caravans, past more torches and playing children and barking dogs. A chorus of guitars serenaded them as they passed a group around a fire and the beat of the drums echoed a primal, sensual rhythm.
Arabel felt her blood heat. There was something so seductive about the music, the scent of the pines, and the feel of Eli’s strong hand within her own. Arabel felt alive in a way she’d never felt before. It excited her and she felt truly reckless, free for once of the heavy feeling of responsibility that weighed upon her all the rest of the time. Until this very moment, Arabel hadn’t realized just how tense her shoulders were, or how hard she’d been trying to figure things out, and how much her head ached from the resulting effort.
Arabel squeezed Eli’s hand and he turned to smile at her.
“That’s my parents’ caravan, on the left,” Eli said, pointing to an indigo coloured structure deep within the forest greenery. Arabel felt a twinge of nervousness. She suppressed it and they approached
Eli was very aware of Arabel’s arms around his waist and he wished he could return her embrace, although he couldn’t very well turn around just then and kiss her as he’d like. Soon, he promised himself. He hadn’t slept well last night. He’d been haunted by visions of Arabel and her enticing beauty. In the dream she’d been entreating him to kiss her, to make love to her. And he’d been resisting. More fool, I, Eli thought now, grinning in the dark, her hands warm against his belly.
The moon hung high overhead and their way was facilitated by its pale white light. Once they’d entered the woods Eli slowed Jovah down to a canter and farther in he walked him. Eli hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d told Arabel there was mud. There was, and as promised, an abundance of it. There’d been too much rain lately and it had turned this part of the forest into a veritable mud pit. Arabel was glad of her sturdy black boots as they’d withstand the muddiest of conditions but she’d be holding her riding habit up as high as it would go to prevent ruining the hem.
There were lights in the distance and Arabel could hear the beat of a drum. The forest was alive with people and activity and her heart leapt in excitement. She was here, deep in the forest to search the Gypsy lair and her adventurous spirit revelled in the knowledge. Arabel was so used to being alone that it felt strange to have a companion. But this new sensation of partnership she took in stride, it had fallen into place so effortlessly; she would do nothing to jinx it.
They dismounted a short distance away from the cluster of caravans and Arabel looked around in amazement. Torches burned every few feet and the main meeting ground was filled with brightly dressed women and men. The Gypsies were sitting on benches sharing stories or playing card games of chance around fold-up tables, and children; everywhere there were children, running through the trees playing chasing games or sitting on wide laps with satisfied grins.
A dog or two scampered between the children and a cat meowed nearby for scraps from a spit being turned by a toothless old man. He nodded to them and Eli returned the motion. Everywhere Arabel looked, the forest teemed with life, with energy, with spirit. Arabel found she was smiling as she surveyed the scene.
“How magical it is!” she whispered.
Eli took Arabel’s hand and led her through the maze of Gypsies and down a side path well worn and slightly less muddy. They walked past groups of caravans, past more torches and playing children and barking dogs. A chorus of guitars serenaded them as they passed a group around a fire and the beat of the drums echoed a primal, sensual rhythm.
Arabel felt her blood heat. There was something so seductive about the music, the scent of the pines, and the feel of Eli’s strong hand within her own. Arabel felt alive in a way she’d never felt before. It excited her and she felt truly reckless, free for once of the heavy feeling of responsibility that weighed upon her all the rest of the time. Until this very moment, Arabel hadn’t realized just how tense her shoulders were, or how hard she’d been trying to figure things out, and how much her head ached from the resulting effort.
Arabel squeezed Eli’s hand and he turned to smile at her.
“That’s my parents’ caravan, on the left,” Eli said, pointing to an indigo coloured structure deep within the forest greenery. Arabel felt a twinge of nervousness. She suppressed it and they approached
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