Free The Dark Knight by Tori Phillips Page A

courtyard, unnerved by her physical reaction. The shock of his physical presence made her body tingle in the most secret places. She could not ignore the attraction that drew her to him. She wondered if he felt it, too.
    The Gypsy did not release her when she stood on her feet within his embrace. Not looking up at him, she asked again, “What do you mean to do with me?”
    Sandorswallowed. This pretty gadji filled his senses with a fierce desire that refused to concede to common sense. He wanted Tonia, both her body and her spirit. Hot blood coursed through his veins like a raging torrent. ’Tis lust only. I have been too long without a woman. Though Tonia did not look at him, she quivered in his hands. His experience told him that she desired him as much as he wanted her. Uncle Gheorghe had said it was Sandor’s right to have her. Yet, the lady was a virgin and did not realize what a whirlwind their lovemaking would unleash.
    Sandor drew in a deep breath. Tonia was marked for death and by his hand. He would not send her to the Lord God broken and stained by him. In any case, the death warrant expressly forbade him to shed the lady’s blood and that included the scarlet tears of her maidenhead. He dropped his hands to his sides and stepped away from her.
    She regarded him for a heartbeat. “Are you going to kill me now?”
    Sandor clenched his hands behind his back. “Nay, Tonia.” He tried to introduce some levity into this dark and dangerous moment. “You are not ready, I am not ready and your grave is not ready to receive you. Also, I must give Baxtalo a good rubdown after his…ah…exercise. Please.” He pointed toward the doorway. The sooner he locked her out of his sight the better it would be for all of them.
    She gave him a searching look, then turned on her heel and went inside the ruined keep. Sandor followed close behind her. His fingers itched to reach out and touch the wild tangle of her hair that cascaded down her back. He gritted his teeth and fought against the demons of his desires.
    Toniastumbled at the entrance to her cell. Sandor reached out to steady her, but she held up her hand to stop him. Then she lifted her chin and walked with a firm stately grace into the tiny, dank chamber. She stood with her arrow-straight back to him while he swung shut the heavy timber door and turned the key in the lock. He all but fled back to the guardroom.
    Sandor sank down on the bench, pulled off the irritating mask and mopped the cold sweat from his face. What was he to do? The beautiful gadji had bewitched him, just as his mother and his aunt had always warned him. He should kill Tonia and be done with it. Demeo needed his freedom. What if the boy had already caught some pestilence? The gadje Tower guards would not lift a finger to help a mere Gypsy; they would let him die among the vermin. Sandor’s return was already overdue. He should have been on the road today. His obligations to his family pressed against the back of his neck. Rubbing his eyes, he noticed that his hands trembled.
    “Black Sara, help me,” he prayed to the Rom’s most beloved saint, Sara-la-Kali, the Egyptian hand-maiden of the Blessed Virgin Mary. “Tell me what I should do.” He closed his eyes.
    The image of his grandmother surfaced in his memory. She was reading the tarot—his fortune. He saw the Death card in her thin fingers and heard again her laughter. “Afraid of change, are you, Sandor? Remember what I say. You will have a friend who was your enemy. You will find life holding hands with death.”
    Opening his eyes, Sandor stared at his hands as if he had never seen them before. Wide palms with long fingers—good for working with horses—and for loving a woman. These were not killing hands. Curling his fingers into a ball, he cursed the misfortune that had sent him into the northern mountains on this ill-favored mission.
    He fumbledin his ditty bag, then pulled out the garrote. He fingered the hard knots in the leather