Free A Dangerous Love by Brenda Joyce

much as his.
    He smiled again. He leaned close. “But an improper lady might venture out at such an hour. Can I help your investigation? ”
    â€œI didn’t mean it that way.”
    â€œOf course you did. You want to compare.” He sent her a rather cool smile and took her arm.
    He tugged her to a small table near one of the wagons, farther from the dancers. He poured two glasses of wine from a hefty jug, handing one to her. Before she could refuse, he drank thirstily, as if the wine were water. His gaze moved down to the edge of her silk bodice.
    Her nipples tightened. That look was as bold as if he’d reached inside her dress, past chemise and corset. “I didn’t mean that I had come to investigate.”
    â€œOf course you did. Drink the wine. You will enjoy the night even more fully.”
    â€œI have already had wine with supper.”
    His white teeth gleamed. “But you are so nervous, as much as a schoolgirl or debutante. I do not bite, Miss de Warenne. Nor do I cheat or steal—or seduce unwilling ladies. It is Miss de Warenne, is it not?” His attention strayed to her left hand.
    She came to her senses. “It is Miss de Warenne. I don’t believe in stereotyping. Of course you don’t cheat or steal—or seduce unwilling women.” She thought she flushed. This man had a way of making his every word seem sexually suggestive.
    His brows lifted. “So you are the single gadjo without prejudice? How laudable.”
    â€œBigotry is wrong and I am not a prejudiced person,” she managed.
    He turned aside, lashes lowering, but not before sending her a long glance.
    Ariella raised her glass and took a gulp of the wine. Had that look meant what she thought it did? She gulped again. She had seen her father, her uncles, even her brother and cousins look at women that way. That look had one meaning. What should she do?
    She should stay and let him kiss her.
    Almost in disbelief, ready to wonder if this were a dream, she took another draft of the wine. She was an enlightened thinker. She didn’t care about propriety and she had never been interested in a kiss before. There was no doubt about it—she was highly interested now.
    As if he sensed her decision, he murmured, “If you did not come here to investigate, then I wish to do so.” He laid his hand on her waist.
    She tensed, but not with fear. Instead, her body hummed. “What do you mean?”
    â€œI mean that I wish to understand why a beautiful, unwed and proper lady of your age is wandering into my encampment in the middle of the night.”
    â€œI am passionate,” she whispered, “about knowledge. I want to know more about the Romany people.”
    â€œThe Romany people—or me?”
    She went still.
    â€œGive up the pretense,” he murmured. His hand moved up her side, a shocking caress. “You didn’t come for the music or for them. You came for me. I am your investigation.”
    Ariella couldn’t speak. He was right.
    His smile twisted as he pulled her closer. “You aren’t the first Englishwoman to wish for a Romany lover.”
    She started to protest but he murmured, “Why else would you come to me, gadji, at such an hour?”
    She had no answer to make. She stuttered, “I don’t know…I wanted to come…I was drawn.”
    â€œGood. Be drawn. I wish for you to want me.” His eyes smoldered. “We are open about our passions. Wait here.”
    Ariella stared after him, shaken, while he went back to the crowd. She saw him pause before the violinist, an older white-haired man. She realized she was hardly the only woman staring at him with yearning. The younger Romni women were beautiful, and a few of them were watching Emilian as closely as she was.
    But he returned to Ariella, smiling and holding out his hand. “Dance with me.”
    Dancing had never interested her and she had two left feet. Did he think