Seduce Me at Sunrise (The Hathaways #2)(32)

"I'll go with you, damn it," Kev said gruffly. "But only because I know what Amelia would do to me if I let something happen to you."

Chapter Ten

Somewhere in England, spring had covered the ground with green velvet and coaxed flowers from the hedgerows. Somewhere the sky was blue and the air was sweet. But not in no-man's-land, where smoke from millions of chimney pipes had soured the complexion of the city with a yellow fog that daylight could barely penetrate. There was little but mud and misery in this barren place. It was located approximately a quarter mile from the river and bordered by a hill and a railway.

Kev was grim and silent as he and Rohan led their horses through the Romany camp. Tents were loosely scattered, with men sitting at the entrances and whittling pegs or making baskets. Kev heard a few boys shouting at one another. As he rounded a tent, he saw a small group gathered around a fight. Men angrily shouted instructions and threats to the boys as if they were animals in a pit.

Stopping at the sight, Kev stared at the boys while images from his own childhood flashed through his mind. Pain, violence, fear… the wrath of the rom baro, who would beat Kev further if he lost. And if he won, sending another boy bloodied and broken to the ground, there would be no reward. Only the crushing guilt of harming someone who had done no wrong to him.

What is this? the rom baro had roared, discovering Kev huddled in a corner, crying, after he had beaten a boy who had begged him to stop. You pathetic, sniveling dog. I'll give you one of these- His booted foot had landed in Kev's side, bruising a rib-for every tear you shed. What kind of idiot would cry for winning? Crying after doing the only thing you're good for? I'll drive the softness out of you, big bawling infant- He hadn't stopped kicking Kev until he was unconscious.

The next time Kev had beaten someone, he had felt no guilt. He had felt nothing.

Kev wasn't aware that he'd frozen in his tracks, or that he was breathing heavily, until Rohan spoke to him softly.

"Come, phral."

Tearing his gaze away from the boys, Kev saw the compassion and sanity in the other man's eyes. The dark memories receded. Kev gave a short nod and followed.

Rohan stopped at two or three tents, asking the whereabouts of a woman named Shuri. The responses were grudging. As expected, the Roma regarded Rohan and Kev with obvious suspicion and curiosity. The Roma's dialect was difficult to interpret, a medley of deep Romany and what was called "tinker patois," a slang used by urban Gypsies.

Kev and Rohan were directed to one of the smaller tents, where an older boy sat by the entrance on an overturned pail. He carved buttons with a small knife.

"We're looking for Shuri," Kev said in the old language.

The boy glanced over his shoulder into the tent. "Mainl." he called. "There are two men to see you. Roma dressed like gadjos."

A singular-looking woman came to the entrance. She was not quite five feet tall, but her torso and head were broad, her complexion dark and wrinkled, her eyes lustrous and black. Kev recognized her immediately. It was indeed Shuri, who had only been about sixteen when she had married the rom baro. Kev had left the tribe not long after that.

The years had not been kind to her. Shuri had once been a striking beauty, but a life of hardship had aged her prematurely. Although she and Kev were nearly the same age, the difference between them could have been twenty years instead of two.

She stared at Kev without much interest. Then her eyes widened, and her gnarled hands moved in a gesture commonly used to protect oneself against evil spirits.

"Kev," she breathed.

"Hello, Shuri," he said with difficulty, and followed it with a greeting he hadn't said since childhood. "Droboy tume Romale."

"Are you a spirit?" she asked him.

Rohan looked at him alertly. "Kev?" he repeated. "Is that your tribal name?"

Kev ignored him. "I'm not a spirit, Shuri." He gave her a reassuring smile. "If I were, I wouldn't have grown any older, would I?"

She shook her head, her eyes slitting in a leery squint. "If it's really you, show me the mark."

"May I do it inside?"

After a long hesitation, Shuri nodded reluctantly, waving both Kev and Rohan into the tent.

Cam paused at the entrance and spoke to the boy. "Make certain the horses aren't stolen," he said, "and I'll give you a half crown." He wasn't certain whether the horses would be more in danger from the Chorodies or the Roma.

"Yes, kako," the boy said, using a respectful form of address for a much older male.

Smiling ruefully, Cam followed Merripen into the tent.

The structure was made of rods stuck into the ground and bent at the top, with other supporting rods fastened to it with string. The whole of it was covered with coarse brown cloth that had been pinned together over the ribs of the structure. There were no chairs or tables. To a Rom, the ground served perfectly well for both purposes. But there was an abundant pile of pots and trenchers in the corner, and a light pallet covered with cloth. The interior of the tent was heated by a small coke fire glowing in a three-legged pan.

At Shuri's direction, Cam sat cross-legged by the fire pan. He stifled a grin as Shuri insisted on seeing Merripen's tattoo, which provoked a long-suffering glance from him. Being a modest and private man, Merripen was probably cringing inside at having to undress in front of them. But he set his jaw and tugged off his coat, and unbuttoned his vest.