Dare to Love by Jennifer Wilde

me down and then whirled me around again, laughing gleefully all the while.
    â€œEnough!” Inez barked. “Leave her be!”
    â€œRudolpho,” I said breathlessly. “It’s so good to see you.”
    â€œYou remember, eh? You remember Rudolpho and all the things I teach you? I show you how to pick a pocket, no? I show you how to look forlorn and hold out your hand for coins. I teach you all the dances.”
    â€œZut! Zut! Leave her be! She and I, we have things to talk about. We go into zee tent.”
    â€œInez, I—I’d like you and Rudolpho to meet my friend Brence Stephens. He was kind enough to bring me today.”
    They looked at him, Rudolpho with a friendly grin, Inez with narrowed eyes that were openly suspicious. Brence nodded politely. Inez placed her hands on her hips and looked him up and down.
    â€œEss beautiful,” she observed. “Ess good for you? Zat is zee question. You take charge of him, Rudolpho. Show him zee camp. Get him out uv zee way for a while.”
    Brence gave me a good-natured smile and let Rudolpho lead him toward the caravans and crackling campfires. Inez’s eyes narrowed again as she watched them leave. After a moment she muttered something under her breath and took me inside the tent where a candle, burning in an old pewter holder, cast a soft golden glow. There was no crystal ball, but a pack of soiled Tarot cards set on the rickety table and a series of faded cabal signs hung on the purple tent walls. The smell of garlic and damp cloth was almost overwhelming, but I was so happy to be with Inez that I hardly noticed.
    â€œSit down,” she ordered. “We talk.”
    â€œThere’s so much to talk about I don’t know where to begin,” I said, taking one of the chairs. “Tell me about you, Inez. Tell me about you and Rudolpho and everything you’ve been doing.”
    Sitting down across the table from me, Inez propped her elbows up and made a face, shrugging her bony shoulders.
    â€œGypsy life always zee same. We steal chickens. We sell zee trinkets and tell zee fortunes. We move from place to place. Gypsies come and go. Nothing changes. I hear you go to fine school, study dancing.”
    I told her about the school in Bath, describing my classes, and when I told her about Aunt Meg’s death, I was unable to conceal my grief. Her face was like carved mahogany as she listened, black eyes glowing. There was a moment of silence after I finished. When Inez spoke, her voice was a harsh growl.
    â€œZis man. He help you forget your grief?”
    â€œHe’s been … marvelous, Inez.”
    She grimaced and began to toy with the Tarot cards, turning up first one, then another, her expression fierce. For some reason, she didn’t like Brence, but she undoubtedly still saw me as a child and still had a protective feeling toward me.
    â€œThese past twelve days have been the happiest days of my life,” I told her. “We—every afternoon I go to Land’s End, and he meets me there. I’ve taken him to all my favorite places—he’s a stranger to Cornwall, you see. We’ve been to the haunted caves and to the Druid stones. One afternoon we had a picnic on the moors, and another day we went to one of the small fishing villages down the coast. A fisherman showed us how to mend nets and took us out on his boat.”
    Inez slapped another card down and again made a face.
    â€œSeveral times we just rode in the carriage,” I continued, “taking any road we happened to fancy, exploring, talking, getting to know each other and just—just being together.”
    â€œYou luff him?”
    â€œWith all my heart. I never knew such happiness was possible, never knew I could feel so close to another person. It’s as though I’m truly alive for the first time, as though life before Brence was a kind of dream and I’m only now awake.”
    â€œHe luffs